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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 day

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The Only Way Out is Through (2)

Vlad overshadows Jack as part of a diabolical plan to get rid of him and win Maddie's heart. Unfortunately, the plan goes awry when Vlad finds he can neither take control over Jack, nor leave.

For the prompts: Vlad's murderous plan for vengeance goes awry when he finds himself unable to stop possessing Jack's body. Jack is very much still alive and complaining about the "insufferable spook inhabiting his form". He's forced to live Jack's life until he can come up with a solution. IF he can... [from Balshumet], Vlad wishes his friendships could go back to the way they were in college, little does he know that Jack and Maddie have similar sentiments. [from @half-deadmagicperson], and Jack wants to save Vlad, but he'll have to face the harm he caused twenty years ago in order to accomplish this. [from @kuzann]

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Chapter 2: Forgive, but Never Forget (Chapter 1)

[Warning for past trauma, guilt and blame, and mentions of death]

Jack stared.

Before him, he saw the rotten specter who'd tried to possess him and gotten stuck... and he also saw his best friend, Vlad Masters. And he had no idea what to make of it.

"I... I don't understand," he said.

"Of course you wouldn't understand, you oaf," the Wisconsin Ghost sneered at him. "I can't stand to be near you for even another second."

Then, with a flourish of his cape, the ghost flew through the portal and was gone, leaving Jack alone with his friend and no less confused.

"Vlad, are you alright?" he asked. He reached out to his friend, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Don't touch me," Vlad said, though there was little bite to it.

He looked... sad. Sadder than Jack had ever seen him, and he was overcome with the desire to help, though he still hadn't the foggiest idea what he needed to help with.

"Vlad... what's going on?" he asked, trying and failing to put all the pieces together. It just didn't add up.

Had the Wisconsin Ghost possessed Vlad before coming to do the same to Jack? But... how would it have even done something like that? It was impossible. Still, Vlad would know better than Jack, he always did, so it probably would be best to ask.

"Did the Wisconsin Ghost overshadow you, too, Vlad?"

"I wasn't overshadowed by the Wisconsin Ghost," Vlad muttered darkly. "I am the Wisconsin Ghost. Or I was, anyway. Your device seems to have separated me from my ghost half, and now it has apparently abandoned me in its disgust. I hardly blame it for wanting to get away from you."

"I don't understand—"

"I told you, didn't I?" Vlad replied. "You killed me. I came to get revenge. It's as simple as that."

Jack shook his head, still as confused as when he'd first dispossessed himself of that ghost and seen Vlad standing there, if not more so. It certainly didn't seem like anything about this situation was at all simple. Actually, it seemed quite confusing. Most confusing of all, however, was that, even though Vlad's words should have sounded angry... he just sounded sad.

"Is... is something wrong, Vladdie?" Jack asked. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? The man I once called friend betrayed me by stealing away the woman I love, sending me to an early grave in his incompetence, turning me into a half formed freak, neither truly human nor truly ghost, trapped me in his body for a week, and then split my two sides apart from each other, leaving me a broken man in every sense of the word."

Jack wasn't always the best at picking out sarcasm, but he didn't think Vlad was being genuine when he claimed he was fine. He actually sounded rather displeased and depressed about the whole thing. But Jack knew the cure for that.

"Come on, old chum," he said, grabbing Vlad by the arm despite his protests. "I'm taking you upstairs for some hot-chocolate and a warm blanket and we're going to talk this out."

Too bad Jack didn't know what to do about any of the rest of Vlad's problems. He didn't even know what Vlad was babbling about when he said half those things. Stealing away the woman he loved? Jack didn't know Vlad was dating anyone, or even crushing on anyone. And the only person Jack had dated since meeting Vlad was Maddie. By all accounts, it didn't make sense.

Once they got upstairs, Jack sat Vlad down on the sofa, grabbed a blanket from under the coffee table, and threw it over his friend's shoulders. It was a good blanket, thick, and warm, and soft. Jack knew because he'd knitted it himself, and he said as much. Then he told Vlad to stay put while he made some cocoa.

While Jack went through the familiar process of warming the milk, and mixing in the powder, and hunting down the marshmallows from wherever Maddie had hidden them this time, he tried to think over what Vlad had said before. There was something about a woman, and a half-formed... something, and a ghost? Or rather, not truly a ghost.

He felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle when he had only been given every other piece, and he'd gone and lost half the pieces he did have. It was, admittedly, rather frustrating, but Jack had done many puzzles with missing pieces—because he had a tendency to lose real puzzle pieces as much as metaphorical ones. He never gave up until he could see what the picture was, missing pieces or no.

When he returned to the living room with two cups of cocoa—he'd made one for himself while he was at it, just because—he saw Danny standing across from Vlad with an angry expression.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Vlad, but I want you out of here. Fly home. Now," he said in a low, growling tone.

"I would love to, Daniel, but alas... I don't have my powers." Vlad replied. "I won't be flying anywhere."

"What do you mean you don't have your powers?" Danny hissed. "You've been overshadowing my dad for like, a week, you're telling me you've lost your powers in the last ten minutes?"

"He used something called a 'ghost catcher' to separate us." Vlad shrugged.

Danny cringed hard. "Oh."

"Worked a bit too well, it seems. My ghost half flew off who knows where. I'm sure it'll come back for me when Jack's asleep."

"Fine, but I'm watching you, Vlad," Danny told him. "If you try anything funny, I'll dropkick you into the Ghost Zone and let you flail. Play nice with Dad, don't flirt with mom, and generally don't be such a fruit loop, or you're done here. Got it?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

With that, Danny turned around and left Vlad sighing behind him.

"What was that all about?" Jack asked as he entered the room, at last, two mugs of hot-cocoa in hand.

"You really have no listening comprehension, do you?" Vlad sighed, accepting a mug of cocoa, but not drinking it yet.

"Or maybe you haven't explained anything very well," Jack replied, starting to get a bit huffy.

Vlad couldn't put this all on him, when Vlad had just been saying things that didn't make any sense and expecting him to just know what they meant.

"Like that thing about me stealing the woman you love," Jack continued. "What's that all about? You never told me you were dating anyone. I didn't even know you liked anyone. And the only person I've dated since we met is Maddie, so how could I have stolen the woman you love?"

"Maddie is the woman I love, you utter buffoon," Vlad grumbled, then took a sip of his cocoa.

"Really?" Jack asked. "But... you never said anything. You never told me. How was I supposed to know?"

"I would have thought I was rather obvious about it."

"That's not fair," Jack replied. "With the number of times you've talked about how oblivious I am, it's not fair of you to assume I know things just because they're obvious. You know more than anyone how bad I am at noticing things. You're my best friend, if you liked Maddie, you should have told me."

"And what would you have done if I had? Hm?" Vlad asked. "Let me have her?"

"Well... no," Jack said obviously. "I couldn't do that. Maddie's a person, not something you can just have. If I knew you liked her too, we could have told her together and let her decide. At the very least I would have wanted us both to have a fair chance, instead of just making a move on my own. In fact, we can call her down now and ask her what decision she would have made."

"Really?" Vlad asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "And what happens if she says she would have chosen me?"

"Well... then maybe we can work something out," Jack said. "I'll always support Maddie a hundred percent, no matter what she chooses. And no hard feelings from either of us, whatever she says, right?"

"Very well."

Maddie was reading a book in bed when Jack went to get her, telling her Vlad was here and they had an important question to ask her. She grimaced.

"Something wrong?" Jack asked.

"No, nothing," she said, putting on a smile. "Oh, is that ghost still attached to you?"

"No, I used the ghost catcher to separate it, and it flew off into the Ghost Zone," Jack said. "Then Vlad showed up, which... still not sure how that happened, but I'm working on it."

"The ghost catcher!" Maddie put her palm to her forehead. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. I totally forgot we made a ghost catcher."

"Don't feel too bad. I forgot, too. Now come on, Vlad's waiting downstairs."

"Right...." Maddie got up and followed, but she was walking slower than usual.

When they got to the living room, she took a seat on the armchair and Jack sat next to Vlad and started to explain.

"Did you know V-man also had a crush on you in college?" Jack asked. He opened his mouth to continue his speech, but Maddie interrupted him.

"Yes, I knew," she said.

"You did?"

"It was obvious," she and Vlad said in unison.

As much as he loved them both, they sure knew how to make Jack feel stupid at times.

"You and Vlad were both ridiculously obvious about your crushes on me," she continued. "At the time, I wasn't sure if I liked either of you, or who I liked more, so I decided that whoever asked me out first, I would go with, and if it worked, it worked, and if it didn't, it didn't."

"So... what if we'd come to you at the same time to confess our feelings and asked you to choose?" Vlad asked. "What would you have done then? Who would you have chosen?"

Maddie's eyes widened in surprise. "I... I don't know."

"Humor us," Vlad insisted. "Imagine that that had been what happened."

"Well... I suppose there are two possibilities," Maddie said. "You were both very good friends, and I wouldn't want to alienate either one of you by favoring the other. Either, I would have turned you both down to avoid hurting one of you so much that I would have lost him. Or I would have proposed an experiment to go on one date with the both of you and see which one I liked better as a boyfriend and which I preferred as just a friend."

"You always were very scientifically minded," Vlad commented.

"If you'd done the experiment, who do you think you would have picked?" Jack asked. More curious about her thoughts than actually concerned about whether she loved him or Vlad more.

She sighed. "I don't know. I really don't. It would have depended entirely on how you both met the challenge. But I was young, and naïve in college. I'd never dated anyone before, and I didn't know what to look for to know if a relationship would last. What I would have done back then, with the knowledge and experience I had back then, it doesn't really matter now, in the present.

"Knowing what I know now, I know I chose the right guy back then, even if it was just coincidence, or luck... I'm sorry Vlad. You were a good friend then, and I wish our friendship hadn't fallen apart, but the way you are now... you're pushy, and controlling, and I couldn't be happy married to a man like that. I know you both love me, but Jack understands me, and supports me, and even though he's forgetful, he cares about me as a person, and doesn't just want me, like you seem to.

"I just... I just wish we could all be friends like we were before," she said. "Before the accident, before all the resentment, and the pain, and separation. Before you turned into such a creep," she tacked on. "I miss those days. But it's too bad we can't just ignore all the time that's passed, and everything that's happened."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Vlad agreed miserably, then took another sip of his cocoa.

"Well why not?" Jack asked. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were between us in the old days?"

"Because you killed me!" Vlad snapped. "Because you were overeager, despite our warnings, and by your incompetence, made me spend two years in a hospital, suffering poor care and constant mistreatment in addition to extreme pain as the ecto-acne simultaneously killed and healed me.

"Did you know, That ectoplasm can do that? Kill someone and resurrect them at the same time? I found that out the hard way. Guess who else found that out the hard way, twenty years after I did?"

"Danny," Jack breathed out.

If the ghost really was somehow Vlad, like he'd claimed to be, then that thing he'd said about Jack killing his son and not even realizing it was starting to make sense.

"In the portal accident," he realized. Killed and resurrected at the same time.

"What?" Maddie asked.

Jack just shook his head. He couldn't explain now. He felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't even imagine how horrible something like that would be to experience. The way Vlad put it, it sounded like agony.

"Vlad... it was an accident," Jack said.

"That you caused."

"I never meant to—"

"But you did, didn't you," Vlad said. "You pressed that damned button and I didn't hear from you again for twenty years."

"We tried to visit you in the hospital, Vlad," Maddie said. "We tried so many times we were permanently banned from visitation there. They wouldn't let us see you because we weren't relatives. We didn't even know if you'd survived."

"And what about after?" Vlad asked. "After I left the hospital, I became a millionaire. I was all over the news. Why didn't you reach out then?"

"I tried!" Jack told him. "Your receptionist said she was told to screen all calls from me."

"You killed me," Vlad repeated. "Why the hell would I take your calls?!"

"He's only trying to say that we're not the only ones to blame for losing touch," Maddie intervened, leaning forward, though she didn't have the reach across the coffee table to put herself between them. "You shut us out because of your bitter resentment. How were we supposed to reach out to you when you put a wall between yourself and us?"

A wall. That was a perfect metaphor, Jack decided. Ever since they'd reconnected with Vlad, it had felt like there was a brick wall between them, as much as Jack tried to ignore it, and pretend it wasn't there, even he wasn't so oblivious that he didn't notice.

It felt like a Cask of Amontillado situation, except that Vlad was both the one who'd built the wall, and the one trapped behind it, isolated, stuck, and suffering. Jack had burst through many a wall, but he couldn't break down this one. He wanted to help his friend, to save him... he just didn't know how.

"I... I'm sorry, Vlad," Jack said.

It didn't feel like the right thing to say after everything, after what he'd done, intentionally or not. Especially now that he realized the true extent of the consequences of his poorly-thought-out actions. It wasn't strong enough to express his remorse, or tangible enough to fix the damage, but he'd realized, out of nowhere, that he'd never actually said it.

In all these years, he'd never actually apologized. Or, if he had, he didn't remember, which wasn't exactly unlikely. Still, it couldn't do any harm to say it again, if he had said it at all.

"I know I can be overzealous, and clumsy, and thoughtless," he continued. "I didn't choose to be like this, I don't do it on purpose, but I know I do it, and I'm sorry. I don't know what I can do to make it up to you, but say the word and I'll do it."

"You could give me Maddie—"

"No, he couldn't," Maddie cut in sharply. "I am not something that can be kept or given away. I thought I already made myself clear about all this."

"Worth a shot."

"Wasn't," she scowled.

"I can't do that," Jack said. "But I will try to do better. Jazz is always suggesting things I can do to help with my forgetfulness, and I never remember to try them, but I'll work with her to start doing that. I'll find ways to stop me being so impulsive. And I'll try to think more. You're always getting on my about how I don't think enough."

"That'll be a real challenge for you," Vlad replied.

"I know," Jack replied with a short laugh. "But I'm willing to do it. Whatever else you are, dead, alive, even a ghost—you're my best friend. And I hurt you, and I want to make amends. If you'll let me."

Vlad looked down his nose at Jack, and sipped his cocoa once more. Jack realized he hadn't even touched his own drink during all this. It was probably lukewarm by now.

"I'll consider it," he said finally. Then he put his drink back down on the table and added, tersely, "It's late, you should go to bed. I'm sure I'll be gone in the morning. I'd like to be left alone for a while... to think."

"Of course," Maddie said. "Come on, Jack, let's leave him be. I'm sure we've bothered him more than enough for one evening."

She stood, and took Jack by the hand to lead him upstairs to their room.

"So... what exactly happened?" she asked once they were alone in their bedroom and Jack was changing into his pajamas. "Why was Vlad doing here? And what happened to the ghost that tried to overshadow you and got stuck? And what did you mean about Danny and his accident with the portal?"

"Slow down, Maddie, I can only answer one question at a time," Jack replied. "I'll start with Vlad and the ghost. Vlad was the ghost."

"What?"

"When he said the ecto-acne killed him and brought him back at the same time..." Jack trailed off to swallow back the discomfort at that mental image. "I think it made him a ghost... but also not a ghost?"

"What, like... a half-ghost?" Maddie asked, he eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Jack imagined he must look like that pretty often. Confused, that is. He knew he didn't look anything like his wife.

"I guess so," he agreed. "When I used the ghost catcher to get rid of the ghost possessing me, it separated me from him, but it also separated Vlad's human self from his ghost self. That's what he said, anyway. Then his ghost self said he couldn't stand to look at me and flew into the portal."

"Rude."

"What do you expect from a—uh..."

Jack had been about to say 'what do you expect from a ghost', but he reconsidered when he remembered who he was talking about. We half-ghosts completely different from regular ghosts? Or were he and Maddie completely wrong about ghosts altogether.

"He was just upset," he said instead. "I think he'd been poking around in my memories, and he saw some things that upset him. He confronted me about my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother," his wife said.

"I don't anymore," he looked down at the floor and tried not to recall to much and upset himself. "His name was Johnny, but he died falling through ice when we were kids. I... I was supposed to be watching him at the time, but I got distracted."

"Oh, Jack..."

"It was a long time ago," Jack said before she could try to comfort him and only made him linger on the guilt he still felt. "We all made mistakes that day. I should have learned from mine, and not let anyone else get hurt because of my negligence, but I guess I didn't learn well enough."

"How old were you?" she asked gently.

"I was ten," he replied. "Johnny was seven."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. It wasn't something he liked remembering, let alone talking about.

"You had other questions," he said, redirecting the subject back to what they'd been talking about before. "I'm sorry, I can't remember what they were...."

"Oh, Danny," Maddie said. "You said something about Danny when Vlad was telling us about what happened to him. And his accident with the portal?"

"Right... I think Vlad was trying to tell me that Danny was like him. Half ghost, I mean," Jack explained. "He told me I'd killed Danny, before I knew it was him. And then he said that thing about ectoplasm and—"

"Someone else found out the hard way, twenty years after he did..." Maddie realized. "Oh, Danny."

"Should we say something to him?" he asked.

She shook her head, although he wasn't sure if she actually meant 'no', or if she was just thinking.

"Why wouldn't he tell us?" she asked.

"Maybe... for the same reason as Vlad?" Jack guessed. "Maybe he blames us for what happened."

"Do you think so? Or maybe... maybe he doesn't feel safe telling us?"

"What?"

"We're ghost hunters," Maddie reminded him. "What if he's worried that our feelings for him might change if we knew he was a ghost."

"Oh no... what should we do?"

"I think... we should let him come to us when he's ready," she said. "Can you imagine how scared he might be if we brought it up to him now? We should wait for him to feel comfortable telling us, and in the meantime we can have some fun reexamining all the research we've ever done on ghosts in order to draw new, differently biased conclusions so Danny doesn't think we think he's evil just because he's half ghost. If he's half-ghost."

"And if he's not, we can reexamine our research so Vlad doesn't think we think he's evil," Jack enthused. "Should we start tonight?"

If reexamining their research and studying ghosts even more carefully than before was the worst thing that came out of this whole situation, than they really were on easy street.

"No, let's start tomorrow," Maddie suggested. "I don't think we should bother Vlad any more for tonight, and no offense, sweetie, but I don't think you'll be able to sneak past him to the lab without being noticed."

"I am pretty hard to miss."

"So come to bed for now, Jack," she said, patting his side of the bed invitingly. "A good night's sleep is a good start."

"Right you are, Maddie!"

He climbed into bed, and the two of them fell asleep cuddled up in each other's arms.

—

That night, Vlad paced the lab, waiting for his ghost half to decide to come get him. Lousy, good-for-nothing spook, leaving him behind. He'd examined the ghost catcher, and discovered that, for whatever reason, one of the sides separated people from ghosts, and the other side merged the two. Why it would be designed that way, Vlad couldn't fathom, but it was certainly convenient.

While he waited, blanket still hung round his shoulders because it really was quite comfortable, he considered all the things he'd learned, both from Jack's memories, and from the conversation he'd had with his two old friends upstairs.

They missed the old days as much as he did. All three of them wanted their friendship to go back to how it had been. But they all knew now why it couldn't.

Perhaps... perhaps that didn't mean they could never be friends again, even if it could never be like back in college. Perhaps it wasn't too late to forgive and move on.

Finally, Vlad's ghost half returned, as expected. They weren't meant to be separate, after all.

"There you are," Vlad said. "Come now, we can use the device that separated us to merge us back together."

"Good," Plasmius replied. "I scared the butler half to death when he saw me."

Together, they went through the merge side of the ghost catcher.

It wasn't as seamless as Vlad would have hoped. It seemed his ghost half had taken much of his anger with him when they'd been separated, and having it back made him less willing to forgive.

But the reflection stayed with him to. The sting of Maddie telling him off for being possessive and controlling, of both her and Jack pointing out that he wasn't treating her like a person, but a prize. Was he really that awful? He'd never thought of her that way before he'd developed feelings for her.

Perhaps it would be better to just let those feelings go, after all. She'd made her decision, and she didn't regret it, or want anything other than she got. Maybe he should cut his losses and give up before it further ruined a good friendship on the verge of rekindling.

Perhaps he should forgive Jack, too.

He would never be able to forget what had gone down between them. For years he'd tried to erase those bad memories from his head, of his accident, and his long hospital stay, and his slow and painful death. He'd even gone so far as to get plastic surgery to remove the pitted scars all over his skin, but even though he couldn't see them, he couldn't forget them either.

Jack was giving him a second chance, even though he'd tried to kill him, and steal away his wife and children, and even though he was a ghost, the very thing Jack hated most in the world. Perhaps Vlad could extend the oaf the same courtesy... for old times' sake.

There was much to consider as he flew, whole again, through the Ghost Zone to his own portal, and his home.

#dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #jack Fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #maddie fenton #angst #amends #college trio #dp college buddies #fic #things i wrote #phic phight #phic phight 24

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fauchart · 10 months

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JUNE 2023 VS JUNE 2013

Decided to redraw a piece from ten years ago that was very important to me back then. Many things changed from that time, and it's always nice to have a look above your shoulder to see how far you've come ♥

The original:

Details under the cut

#ocs #the reaper #my art #it was strange drawing him again - it had been a while. I used to mostly draw him when I felt terrible as a way of venting #he was the expression and the personification and the relief from pain all at once #a bit funny for the anniversary to have been now when i've been a bit down in the dumps again. it was fitting hgbhb #anyway. it was nice to draw this old frienemy again #and revisit the old brain world #if you must get anything from this it's that you should always stay to one day be able to look back #and realize that it was worth sticking around #anyway. i don't like this piece as much as i wish i did - i'm not happy w the composition and contrast. but it shall do for this decade #can't wait to see how it will look in ten years #it's a nice goal i think

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musical-chick-13 · 6 months

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"Truly GOOD works don't have thriving fandoms because people aren't interested in fixing them, so what do they have to write fics/make art about."

Idk about you, but I don't write fic for properties I don't genuinely enjoy and think are, on some level, actually good.

#like I'm here to EXPAND on shit I like is that not a common experience?#if I think a work is bad why would I care enough to create something in response to it?#you think I did all those episode reviews and wrote all that shit about cxgf because I thought it was BAD?????#I have ten (10) wips and ONE of them is a 'rewriting canon to be in line with what I wish happened' fic?#idk if I'd even call it a FIX fic. it's more of a 'slightly less personally depressing resolution' fic #I'm sorry. truly I don't understand this viewpoint #'if a story is well-constructed enough there won't BE any extra dimensions to explore' WRONG. I'LL /ALWAYS/ FIND THINGS. U UNDERESTIMATE ME #I WILL /CREATE/ BLANKS TO FILL IN /BECAUSE/ I LOVE THIS THING SO MUCH #like yes everyone is probably going to have at least one piece of media that they don't think is High Art™ that they get unhinged over #(ctrlz squad sound off)#but I just...I'm sorry I cannot imagine spending all of my time going 'I will create things in honor of something that I believe is Bad™'#or 'this thing made me angry I'll exclusively spend my time fixing it' instead of just. watching/reading something else that I DO enjoy #also like...things that ARE widely-agreed to be genuinely good still have big fandoms sometimes?#tgp is pretty popular on here. csm is MASSIVE. both on and off tumblr.#and some things WOULD be otherwise easily fandomize-able: cxgf is one. dpat is another. but these don't HAVE huge fandoms because the shows #are not popular. like just. we live in a world where people are somehow both elitist and anti-intellectual at the same time #ANYWAY this is in response to that one post I saw about--*I am dragged offstage for my own safety*#In the Vents

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magentagalaxies · 11 days

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i have so much work to do for finals season which is frustrating bc on the one hand i'm very glad all my classes have project-based finals where i get to be creative instead of just doing an exam or a paper. however. i have a bad habit with every project-based final ever of accidentally getting an idea that's way too ambitious and creating more work for myself than i need to do

however this semester even tho i fell into that exact same trap my two most elaborate final projects each involve 1. editing a video essay which contains an interview i did with paul bellini and at least 45 seconds of it are bellini talking about why he thinks i have great potential as a comedian, and 2. editing a ten minute reel of the documentary footage i got on tour with scott. which of course involves rewatching various videos of me and scott being extremely chaotic together. so i stay winning ig

#my other finals include ''powerpoint presentation detailing the historical significance of mel brooks the producers''#and ''live sketch show that i actually don't have a significant role in but that's fine i have a different sketch class next semester''#(this sketch class was technically ''creating characters and solo performances'' and i really wish i could've done more)#(but also that whole interview-footage-debacle drained so much of my creative energy so sometimes doing the bare minimum is self care)#so i don't have a solo piece in the show. but i do get to say my favorite line in the whole show in a group sketch which is great #and i did sign up to perform an aubrey monologue in a sketch show in a suburb of boston next week #which is gonna be super interesting bc i've been looking to do more performing outside of my college #bc i've found that i don't think college kids are actually my target audience??? or at the very least i want to perform to a wider audience #it's frustrating bc for that show i have to trim the monologue down to 3 minutes but it's the tightest monologue i have and it's 5 minutes #so trimming it down feels like a game of jenga since it's so tight lmao #but honestly even if the performance bombs i'm mostly doing this so i can tell bellini about it lmao #he's so supportive of my comedy and he's been such a great help with my aubrey monologues i feel like this is bellini homework lmao #anyway i probably won't post the video essay publicly bc it's not the style of video essays i want to make #and it's too specific to the class it's for #but if people are interested in watching it i'll send you the vid when it's done #and for the tour video i'll probably post that or at least some version of it #bc that's just gonna be a fun teaser of ''here's the level of behind-the-scenes content you'll be getting from this doc!!''#and also a fun way to be like. audiences don't know me nearly as well as they know scott #but they will definitely know me by the end of this bc there are so many wild interactions i have on camera of me and scott being chaotic #anyway this post was mostly to organize my thoughts of what i still have to do this week #i am so ready to be done with school lmao i'm gonna be spending a full month in toronto this summer #and it's shaping up to be such an exciting time i can't wait

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nightmarist · 6 months

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Some Zevlor Things —

EDIT 12/2/23: Added a few more things

A fellow Tiefling Hellrider, Tilses, is with him in the caves acting as his bodyguard. He sometimes calls her Tilly.

There is one bedroll in the caves shoved off in the far corner with a book titled "The Devil You Know: An Autobiography" - not sure if it's his personal writing or if he's reading it, either way it adds to the flavor of his of his tiefling pride (and/or anguish).

It reads:

Have you ever had a god change your blood? It is a horrifying thing, even for those who may desire it. Yet few tieflings wished for Asmodeus to claim their bodies, only be given no choice in the matter. It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame. By what method can we redeem ourselves, when the crime is not ours? I would drive a blade into every warlock that aided Asmodeus' damned ritual, but personal vengeance cannot undo the will of a god, much less one as slippery as the Lord of Lies. When every passerby thinks you a thief and heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one. (cut off) The only thing that has stopped me is knowing Asmodeus wants nothing more than for all of us to fall from grace.

Around the his table are Invasion Plans for Elturgard, Traveler's Guide to Baldur's Gate, Traveler's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IV: The Risen Road (which aligns when he tells you earlier there are gnolls on the road), and "Front and Center: a Thespian's Memoir" that reads:

"... in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little bit of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts, if only by the faintest note."

Zevlor aside I think this is a sweet quote for the player and player character relationship <3

Dialogue in the Caves:

Zevlor: I Hardly need a bodyguard, Tilses. This isn't Avernus. Tilses: No sir. At least the monsters there looked like monsters.

—

Tilses: Commander— Zevlor: Just Zevlor, Tilly. We're civilians now, remember? Tilses: With respect, sir — being a Hellrider is for life. They can't take — Zevlor: They can, and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that. Tilses: ... Yes, Zevlor

—

Tilses: The Watch or the Flaming Fist? Zevlor: Pardon? Tilses: When we get to Baldur's Gate. Where are we enlisting? Zevlor: I'm done soldiering, Tilly. I'd like a clean start. But go with the Watch. You're too honest to be a mercenary.

—

Zevlor: No word from the scouts, yet? Tilses: No sir. But if there's a clear path past the goblins, they'll find it. Zevlor: Yes, of course.

ITEMS —

in the Chest there is a bronze goblet, 46 gold, and a battle-worn blade. On his person he has his gloves (Hellrider's Pride), an apple, a camp supply pack, and the key to his chest.

The blade says:

A fine by well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down.

The gloves' flavor text says:

A waft of sulphur emanates from this proudly-kept piece.

Celebration at the Camp:

"I should be out there, talking with them. In... Just a moment, maybe." "Is this everyone? Our numbers have grown so few..." "No more. I can't afford to lose any more of them." "No. Let them have fun. I'll be ruining it come morning anyway."

Mindfayer Colony:

Things he mumbles in the Pod:

The pod will show you his memories of Elturel:

After saving Zevlor, I forced myself to pick the "mean" options just to see how it goes.

If you tell him its his fault tieflings were imprisoned in moonrise, he says:

If you tell him "Do yo have a right to ask?" when he asks about the tieflings:

He doesn't argue with any of your remarks except one, when he says "For a moment I welcomed it" and you tell him "For a moment until you realized your reward would be a tadpole" he corrects you:

If you tell him if he wanted power he should live up to his own ideal:

If you tell him to get out of your sight:

When you tell him it's not his fault he was enthralled:

If you tell him "Fine. Good luck, Zevlor."

If you say you could use another blade in the fight to come:

At the Netherbrain:

(smiling <3)

"The journey has been brutal, but I stand here a Hellrider once more, and I would die a proud man if I died this day."

I know it's a Soldier thing to be proud to die for a cause but it still makes me worry for him given his background so far <:]

If you click on him, he has two unvoiced lines:

if you pickpocket him at this point, he'll have the same items on him as before (in this save he has a carrot instead of an apple for me).

His stats at this time: (Steeped in Bliss is from one of my items)

Post Game (Patch 5)

I don't know if there are other permutations of this letter, yet, but this is what I received:

I hope my penmanship has improved somewhat in the past months. When I first stumbled into this city, I shook so badly that I could scarcely hold the soup the priests pressed into my hands - let alone write and thank you as you deserve. It is only when the city itself began to shake that I felt my hands grow still. Along with the other veterans sheltering at the temple - discards of Elturel's 'unworthy' legions - I watched that monstrosity rise over the city. We felt no fear. Only anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power. I do not know what oath we cling to now, or how long it will last - but we shall use it to ensure that this city will not suffer as Elturel did. Whether it wants us or not. It is more than thanks alone I owe. No words can make amends for what I did to my people, but that is as it should be. More come to the temple every day to aid in the relief efforts, and if I am permitted to work alongside them, then I am content. Come and see us, when you can. Zevlor

It's interesting — if not bitterswet, tragic, and inspiring — to hear that Zevlor and other Paladins regained their Oaths via pure, stubborn devotion to saving people when it began to look as bad as Elturel.

#zevlor #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #act 1 spoilers #act 2 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #this man reeks of self loathing i want to bathe him in love and comfort #i also want him carnally #act 3 spoilers #bg3 meta

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writingstoraes · 10 months

Text

wrong wolff 🗯

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!wolff!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: i am once again in a slump! i keep starting works and not finishing them midway lol hope you guys like this! let me know what u think 🤍

about: amidst the talks of charles' contract renewal at ferrari, rumors associating him with Mercedes arises as he is apparently offered a seat by their very own team principal. turns out, the Mercedes boss' daughter also grew close with the driver in the middle of all negotiations.

ynwolff

liked by susiewolff, danielricciardo, pierregasly, and 1,223,991 others

ynwolff finally back at the paddock to not only watch races, but annoy my dad while i'm at it 🏎️

tagged: mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 The princess of the paddock is finally back!

susiewolff Dad has already sent 4 texts messages about how he lost sight of you 🤣

ynwolff don't worry, i was just looking around :)

brocedes23 So beautiful in person! Able to ask for a picture on her way to the Ferrari garage! ❤️

charlosluv WOAHH she watched the race there? pierresgirl Toto Wolff's daughter watching a race at the Ferrari garage now that's interesting... hold on

ynwolff

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, mercedesamgf1, and 906,445 others

ynwolff met with some nice people today :) hey, scuderiaferrari, your drivers are actually not all bad (one is surprisingly funny) 🤯

mercedesamgf1 Ferrari, please bring our boss' daughter back in one piece!

scuderiaferrari You have our word 👌

gaslys10 ok so she was actually at the ferrari garage this is so amazing of her lol

lecs1655 it's nice to see her getting along with other drivers, not a lot of this seen in the paddock ❤️

lovermidnights I think she's good friends with some drivers, recently Charles, she's with Toto usually when they go out, along with Lewis

charles_leclerc Thanks, funny is my best trait :D

ynwolff sure, i was talking about you 😁 charles_leclerc Pretty snappy response from someone who can't stop laughing at my basketball joke ynwolff i was laughing at you, not because of you, there is a difference charles_leclerc Sure, whatever you say 🤷‍♀️

ferrariscud NOT Y/N AND CHARLES FLIRTING AT THE COMMENTS?? IN FRONT OF MY SALAD???

ynwolff

liked by susiewolff, charles_leclerc, mercedesamgf1, and 1,451,556 others

ynwolff photoshoots and whatnot 📸 had to include this helmet i looove so much (glad the photographer loved it, too)

mercedesamgf1 Wolff serving as always!

susiewolff My gorgeous daughter 💓

charles_leclerc I hope next time you play badminton as good as you look

ynwolff did you just call me pretty carlossainz55 LOL charles_leclerc No? I said you suck at badminton ferrarigirlie charles is so me when flirting

charles_leclerc recently added to his instagram story!

charles_leclerc

liked by ynwolff, susiewolff, mercedesamgf1, and 1,442,985 others

charles_leclerc I, in fact, signed a contract today: to take her out for as many ice cream dates as she wishes and watch a dozen of her favorite movies in one day.

tagged: ynwolff

ynwolff pleasure doing business with you, chuckles

charles_leclerc So you admit, I was the funny one

mercedesamgf1 Business-minded just like her dad 🫡

loveswolff THIS IS SO CUTE

ricciardochamp she is both a wag and the boss' daughter, unmatched

ynwolff

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, susiewolff, and 1,238,990 others

ynwolff loving him is definitely red ❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 Finally! Charles won't stop whining asking me when I think you're going to post him 🙄

charles_leclerc Whatever happened to teammate confidentiality carlossainz55 I like her more than you, she's nicer so

susiewolff Dad would like to clear some things: he did not just say all the nice things about Charles just because you're his girlfriend, in fact, in his own words, he knew him first

ynwolff my own father competing with me? charles_leclerc 😅😅😅

----------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: this was quite lengthy i got carried away sorry lol anyway lmk what u guys think! currently working on wip's and requests hehehe also thinking of doing a permanent taglist, would anyone be interested in joining hehehehe

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random-twst-things · 3 months

Text

The Sweet Painter of Twisted things (Pt. 1)

Hi annon! Love the concept. It's no bother at all, I do love to write after all!! Ty for the request and I apologize for taking so long 😭✨🍬 (I hope you like it!)

Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt.1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus pt.2)

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt 1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus x Female reader pt.2) (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of eerie/gory paintings

Word count: 1,630

Notes: you know what? I'm just gonna post it now and finish the rest in a different post, I don't want y'all to be kept waiting any longer 😭✨🍬

More notes: I'll be posting Pt.2 whenever I have time! I will say though, I have no idea how to write for some of the characters in Pt.2 😀✨🍬

When you said you painted and wished to show him your art, Riddle had to admit he was a tad bit (a lot) excited to see

So, when you showed him your art he was absolutely bewildered.

You, the sweetest person he has ever had the chance in meeting, paints things that could cause nightmares.

Obviously, he isn't going to say that aloud, he has manners, but dear seven, how unexpected it was for him.

He's seen art before. He's been to museums by his mother to teach him strictly of the arts and the "rules" she put in place for them to determine how well a painting is.

It's been years since his mother taught him such things, and she only did it so often, and after time, those rules of art set by his mother have dwindled.

He's been able to go to museums before with Trey as a way to calm down when things are too much. Luckily, Trey was able to explain to Riddle how there are many forms of art and how it art doesn't necessarily have rules itself.

So it's safe to say he's a bit more well-versed in paintings now, even though he still finds it a bit difficult when there's no rules to follow (a habit hard to get rid of)

Now, his reaction all depends on what painting and image your showing him

He will ask you questions about why you would paint such uncanny things such as:

Why did you paint this? What caused you to begin painting such eerie things? What Inspiration were you given to paint this particular piece?

And many more questions about technique and practical things.

He can't say that he's a fan of these types of paintings, but he can say that he thinks you're very talented to be able to make such paintings

He'll praise how well done or real your painting(s) looks.

He's going to be a bit concerned about you, though, and he shows that by (trying to) subtly asking if you're okay

"What gave you the inspiration to draw this?" Riddle asks, the worry in his tone being quite evident even through his attempts in hiding it. "Have you witnessed such things for inspiration?" He asks again, his voice laced with even more worry than before.

"What? No!" You stand up from your seat to get closer to Riddle. "It's not like that," you laugh lightly, shaking your hands in the air. "I just happened to see a rotting piece of meat in the cafeteria kitchen one time while passing by."

Riddle breathes a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. Bro was stressing and worrying.

I say this in the nicest way possible to us all, but this man does not care but-!

Leona doesn't care in a sense like "I wanna show you something!" "Alright hurry it up and show me".

Maybe he's a bit smug that you're showing him something you like to do.

Anyways, when you said you wanted to show him your painting(s) he was being smug.

He didn't have any set expectations to what type of things you painted or what your style was.

Him seeing the eerie or gory painting didn't surprise him as much as Riddle either.

He doesn't have much to say, but this guy is still smug and is definitely showing it now.

Why? The guys got weird motives and definitions of respect and pride so we'll never know.

His does wonder how you acquired such Inspiration to paint like this.

He's not too curious about it to the point where he'll try to find out or becomes worried.

Again, he is smug and prideful but it's for you

He feels prideful FOR you. He's smug about you being able to paint such gory or eerie things FOR you.

(Bros so smitten with you)

You set your canvas/notebook down carefully against one of the plants nearby, careful not to get it dirty or damaged.

Leona lays there, back towards you, unbothered under the shade of a plant, but not for long as you bring your finger near his cheek and begin to poke.

Poke.

PokePokePokePokePokePokePoke.

Leona swats your hand away, but not harshly. His tail swings left to right faster then he was asleep, another sign he's awake.

He looks at you, irked that you disturbed his so-called much needed nap. He glares at you, but his eyes lack the malice in them to even consider it threatening. You look at him innocently, hands behind your back as to show it wasn't you. (He knows better, only you would ever try to wake him up like that)

He sighs deeply. "What is it herbivore?" He asks as he shifts slightly to get into a more comfortable position to get a better view of you. You turn your body slightly to grab the canvas you set down behind you, careful not to accidentally show Leona just yet. "I wanna show you something," you beam, you're more excited then you thought you'd be showing him, for the first time, your most recent painting.

Leona's tail begins to swish even faster, thumping against the leaves of the plants nearby. His tail gives away that his curiosity has been piqued. Yet his face remains unchanged, besides the slight quirk of his eyebrow in questioning.

You turn the canvas around for Leona to see.

And there it is

The smirk

The smug

The eyes of pride *sound effects*

His smirk seems to widen even more as he looks at the painting and then back at you. "Looks nice herbivore, ya got anymore?"

You excitedly nod your head, "yeah, I do. Wanna see them?", you ask, gripping your painting, even more excited then before to show him.

Leona nods his head languidly while slowly closing his eyes, "sure, but after I finish this nap", he brings his arms down and begins to get comfortable. He softly pats his stomach, "Come, sleep".

Azul knows you paint, he knows it's been a hobby of yours for a while now.

How does he know? Doesn't matter. Does he know what exactly the contents of your paintings are? No

His curiosity has been eating away at him. He was so very curious on what his darling was capable of

So, when you first told him that you wished to show him your paintings, he was elated. His curiosity will finally be quelled.

He may or may not have a set expectations of what you paint. Something sweet, something calm or maybe something like he'd find at a museum of old paintings.

What he saw was the complete opposite to say the least.

He's not disappointed, no, he's just shocked.

He's amazed. He's taken aback. He's a lot of emotions.

.....would you be willing to, perhaps, sell these paintings? Many people out there would be willing to buy, and the profits would be even and-

Old habits die hard, I suppose 🤷🏽‍♀️

You led Azul by the hand to your room/drawing room, much slower than he would like as he wished to see your paintings as soon as possible.

"Azul, i can feel you twitching in anticipation just by holding your hand," you laughed lightly. He sighed, bringing his free hand to his temple to calm his nerves. "I'm sorry, dear, but it feels as if you're walking slower just to build up anticipation," "Maaaybeee~". Azul chuckles at your antics.

Finally, after Azuls definition of agonizing seconds. He visibly relaxed as he saw the covered canvas. "My, you really know how to keep me on my toes", ",I most certainly do". You left go of his hand and stand next to the covered canvas. "Ready?", you put your hands on the sheet. Azul held his breath and nodded.

You clench the cover and quickly pull it off. You turn to face Azul to gouge his reaction. That reaction was him frozen in place, still holding his breath (you'd begun to think how he still hasn't passed out) "Azul?" You try to call out to him.

He slowly walks up to your painting, still holding his breath. He reaches out and touches the edges of the canvas delicately, scared he we're to break it if he put too much pressure. You watch his careful movements. You watch as his eyes rake over your painting as if he could take the painting and store it into his memory box. "Azul?" You try calling out again, only this time he responds.

He let's out a shaky breath, "it looks -" he turns his head to fade you. "It looks magnificent, dear," his words were barely above a whisper. You stand there absolutely frozen and shocked. Nobody has ever quite thought this kind of painting would be 'magnificent' before.

"Really?" He turns his head back at the painting."Yes, the detail is vert intricate, and it feels so eerie. It's as if you were truly there." You stare at him bewildered, mouth slightly agape.

He puts his hand on his chin in a thinking position. The gears turn in his head. He turns to face you so quickly that you'd think he'd have snapped his neck on accident. "Have you ever considered selling these?" He asks, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Sell them?... No, I never really thought of that." You bring your fingers to your chin, now thinking as well. "Well, I'll say many would be lining up the door to buy these wonderful paintings!""Really?"

"Yes! With such talent and my business skills, we could -" and there goes the business man into his spiral of possibilities.

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celticwoman · 2 years

Text

oopie tummy hurts 😖

#prob bc of the cold #i'm so very sleepy #i was standing for most of the bus ride and it sucked sooo much #i overslept tho so it's on me ig #english exam tomorrow and i feel like throwing up hehe :]#ALSO i feel like they didn't like my brownies yesterday :/ even tho they said they did but they only ate one so :/ idk #my sister was happy tho she said 'that's great more for us then!' but still #i feel like if u actually like something u eat more than one piece/portion/whatever i mean if u ask for more i take it u actually liked it #but when you say it's good but then you don't ask for more then...idk #MAYBE it's just me and i'm dumb #wish i could give brownies to the mutuals to show my love i bet you guys would like them #anyways i hope you have a great day babes #cami.txt

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velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Temper Tantrums

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n has finally entered the dating scene after refusing to even look at another guy romantically in years. As she gossips with her coworkers at the BAU about her date, Spencer sees red. As the tension grows between Spencer and Y/n, she's finally fed up and confronts him.

Warnings: Cursing, coworkers, mutual pining, immature behavior, name calling.

A/N: Actually kind of proud of this one, I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I hope you will :))

Y/N CAN FEEL THE jet humming beneath her boots, the hand she's rested her chin upon vibrating her skull so intensely she begins to wonder if she could get the adult equivalent of shaken baby syndrome from it.

Emily is settled in the seat next to her, immersed in a game of chess with Spencer on the opposite side of the chessboard. JJ sits across from y/n, and the both of them can't help but watch intently as pieces are moved and soft curses are exchanged. "I'm getting anxious just watching this," y/n whispers to JJ. JJ nods her wide-eyed approval, never moving her gaze from the restless hands attached to their coworkers.

As the intense game of chess seems to last for an eternity, JJ finally tears her gaze away from the game and speaks to the rest of the team, "I know I'm ready for drinks when we get back."

"As long as Rossi's buying, I'm in," Morgan chirps.

"I guess I'm buying," Rossi's playfully rolls his eyes, the smile tugging at his lips ratting out his amusement. If no one had mentioned getting drinks after departing the jet, Rossi would've offered to buy rounds just to get the team to go with him.

"Did I hear Rossi's buying?" Emily asks, her head finally rising from the chessboard for the first time since her and Spencer began playing games ago.

"Are you coming?" JJ asks y/n, her lips forming a pout.

"I can't, I have..plans," y/n smiles apologetically.

"Who could be more important than us?" Emily asks, her jaw slack, as if completely taken aback by her sudden plans and the fact that she hangs out with people other than them.

"If you must know, I'm going on a date."

Spencer's head snaps up from the game, his gaze burning a hole into y/n as she smiles shyly and wrings her hands in her lap.

"A date?" JJ gasps, "With who? Oh my god, you have to tell us everything!"

"I don't want to jinx it. This is the first date anyway, he could be a complete weirdo."

"Please tell us how it goes after!"

"I will."

"Oh my god, this is so exciting, y/n!" Emily exclaims.

"It's about time you got back out there," JJ agrees.

"It's just a date, guys. No need to get your panties in a twist just yet. This job isn't for the weak, especially when it comes to dating."

"Oh, we know." They both dramatically sigh.

Spencer has not ceased gawking at y/n since she announced she was going on a date, the game of chess before him completely forgotten. He only tears his eyes away from her when she looks towards him, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

"Have so much fun and be safe..."

"Believe me, I'm not that type of girl, don't look at me like my mother would," y/n laughs. The girls laugh along with her but the tension in the air is palpable to the rest of the occupants on the jet.

Luckily for the rest of the team, the jet lands with perfect timing. The girls send y/n off on her date, explaining to her over and over again about using protection, red flags to look out for on the first date, and a million other tidbits of information they felt necessary to indulge her in before she could be on her way.

Spencer is the last to leave the plane, purposely packing up his chess pieces and board slowly. When he finally steps onto the tarmac, he can't stop himself from searching for her. There's an ache in his heart as his gaze bores into the back of her head as she walks quickly to her car in the carpark, her steps light and excited.

He doesn't allow himself to wish that she was rushing to go on a date with him, instead.

Y/n pushes through the glass doors to the BAU bullpen with a smile plastered across her face. She plops down in her brown, leathery swivel chair at her desk which, unfortunately for Spencer at this moment, is directly across from his.

He watches her intently as she settles in her chair, placing her bag underneath her desk and getting comfortable enough to go over some case files. She barely even gets to open a file before JJ and Emily are rushing up to her desk. JJ sits herself on the side of y/n's desk and Emily pulls up an empty chair.

Spencer's grip on his pen turns his knuckles white, his pen almost ripping through his paper. He keeps his head down, attempting to seem uninterested in the conversation he knows they're about to have.

"How did it go?" JJ asks impatiently, resting her head in her hands, leaning closer as if that'll get the information out of y/n any faster.

"It was actually..really good. He was sweet."

"Aw, good! You totally deserve someone who's sweet. You don't strike me as the type to swoon over the bad boy."

Y/n chuckles, agreeing wholeheartedly. In theory, the bad guy seems nice, he's protective, he'll murder anyone who touches his girl, and danger is thrilling. But, y/n has known that she's too independent to deal with a guy's possessiveness and it would just piss her off. Plus, sometimes the guys who look like they wouldn't hurt a fly but would actually would murder someone just for looking at his girl wrong...even hotter.

"There's nothing better than a secretly protective man. The bad boy exterior is kind of..embarrassing," y/n whispers. The women's eyes simultaneously land on Morgan, walking down the stairs to his own desk.

Morgan pauses as he notices the stare of the 3 women in the bullpen. "What?"

All he gets is giggles as a response as they turn back to their conversation. "To be fair, the mysterious persona fits him," Emily says matter-of-factly.

JJ and y/n nod in agreement and continue to whisper to each other about y/n's date the previous night. Unable to listen to anymore explicit details, Spencer abruptly rises from his chair and storms into the kitchen to gather and distract himself from the rising rage coursing through his blood.

He rummages through the public cupboards, keeping himself busy enough to miss out on the rest of that stupid conversation. "Spence?" A soft voice calls out. He whips around, almost jumping out of his skin entirely. His temper already worn thin at all the thoughts jumbled in his head, the leash on himself becomes completely taut seeing y/n standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

"What?" Spencer snaps.

"I-I was just seeing if you were okay," she says softly. Spencer mentally chastises himself. He hates that he's taking his anger out on her when she's done nothing wrong. He's the one who's ignored and shoved down his feelings for her since he began to feel those butterflies in his stomach when she spoke to him.

"Thank you for checking up on me, but I'm fine," he deadpans. He makes no move to move out the door past her in fear he'll accidentally brush up against her skin and his restraint will snap completely.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine."

"I can tell you're not, I wouldn't be a very good profiler if I believed you. But I'm not going to push you. I just hope you're okay. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," he grumbles. He turns his back on her, continuing to go through the cabinet in hopes she leaves. His immaturity made him lose his appetite, and when he peaks over his shoulder towards the doorway, he isn't sure why his heart aches to see it empty.

Several days pass by and y/n's irritation is full to the brim. Spencer avoids her at all costs - sitting on the opposite side of the jet on the way to their newest case, if the only seats open in the conference room are directly next to her, he stands on the opposite side of the room, and ignoring any and all questions, comments, or concerns she has tried to communicate to him.

The tension between them becomes a wire stretched to it's breaking point, threatening to snap if they're not careful. The hostility that seems to be growing between them is not missed by their coworkers.

Morgan and y/n are camped out in a dark unmarked car provided to them by the local police enforcement. They were assigned to keep watch at the unsub's preferred dumpsite to see if he returns to revisit his victims like he'd done previously.

She wonders if Hotch purposely stuck her on boring duty to try to relieve the strain in the air - she wouldn't doubt it. She's honestly feels grateful for a moments reprieve. Well, she was grateful, but that was until Morgan opened his mouth.

"What's going on between you and Reid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You honestly can't think I'm stupid. I feel like I have allergies because the air around you guys is so damn suffocatingly...angry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about Derek."

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's completely fine. I'm just worried about you, kid."

She sighs and rests her head back on the head rest. She allows herself a moment to regain her composure - her coworkers shouldn't be punished because of Spencer's childish behavior.

"Thank you, Derek. I appreciate you. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay, I get it. The kid's been weird this entire case."

"Tell me about it."

"Is there a specific reason?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Fair enough, I guess."

Morgan shrugs and returns his attention back on the wooded forest in front of them. Y/n's mind chases itself in circles as she considers asking Morgan about it but she isn't sure if it would even make her feel any better. She racks her brain for an actual reason to justify the way he's been treating her but she can't. She sighs to herself, internally fighting the struggle between fighting for their friendship, or letting him ruin it.

Y/n keeps her eyes glued to the jet window, resting her head on the plane wall, unconsciously wringing her hands in frustration. "You only do that when you're nervous or angry," Emily whispers over the small table between them. Emily's eyes dart to Spencer, sitting at the tail end of the plane, exactly where y/n assumed he would be like a coward.

Y/n's eyes finally peel themselves away from the darkened night sky and are met with Emily's concerned expression. "Do what?" She asks lowly, too mentally and physically exhausted from tracking down a serial killer and dealing with the temper tantrums of a grown man turned toddler.

"Wring your hands like that."

"Oh," is all she can manage out. She looks down at her moving hands, immediately removing her hands from each other and sitting on them.

"I know you well enough to know that if you wanted to talk about it, you would have already so I won't ask. I just don't like seeing it consume you."

"Thank you, Em. I just-I'm pissed the fuck off."

"Why?"

"Spencer has been throwing tantrums since he stormed away from his desk right before we left for this case. I went to check on him and he snapped at me and completely shut me out, which fine whatever, I don't like to be pushed either. But he's done nothing but avoid me, ignore me, and just flat out pretend I don't exist this entire case and I'm at my breaking point."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"How am I supposed to do that? He couldn't even set his emotions aside for one second to hear my opinion on why the unsub was dumping where he was or why he chose the ritual of displaying them like that."

"Maybe you should just confront him, make him listen to you."

"If I thought it was that easy, I would've done it already."

"Do it after we get off the jet."

"He's going to take forever to make sure I'm half way to my car before he even thinks about exiting this damn jet."

"Just give it a try, you're just making excuses now, y/n. I'll give a heads up to the rest of the team to avoid the crossfire."

"Thank you, Em. I appreciate you," y/n sighs. She runs through the conversation in her head over and over, deconstructing and reconstructing her opening statement and the evidence she plans on bringing up to prove her point. She's sure as hell not going to deal with this for any longer and she's not going to let someone she thought was her friend drive her away from the job she loves and the people she cares about most.

The door to the jet whirs open and the rest of the team hauls out of the jet quickly. Y/n takes her time getting up from her seat, her heart beating rapidly as she takes the stairs down to the tarmac one by one. She decides to stand out of sight from his seat on the jet so she can hopefully catch him by surprise.

After a few minutes of clutching her jacket closed from the piercing wind, Spencer finally drags himself out of the jet. Once his feet hit the tarmac, she falls into step beside him. "We need to talk."

He whirls his head to where she's walking casually beside him, her gaze fixed on the expanding airstrip ahead. "There's nothing to talk about," Spencer retorts.

"You might not have anything to say, but that's fine. That means you can just listen to what I have to say," she demands, catching his arm, spinning him to face her. Fury is written all over her face and Spencer's heart starts to beat faster. He knows he deserves every ounce of fury and venom she's about to spit at him.

"Why are you acting like such a child towards me? You've done nothing but ignore, avoid, and act like I'm not even a person to you, let alone your friend, like I thought we were. I don't deserve to be treated the way you've been treating me, Spencer."

"I know you don't and I'm sorry. But that's why I've been angry."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to just be your friend. It's eating me from the inside out to continue to just be friends and hear you talk about this new guy and knowing that I'd never be man enough to tell you that I'm tired of just being friends but I never want to get in the way of your happiness so I just didn't think there was a point in saying anything now."

"What are you saying?"

"That I have loved you from the damn moment you risked your life in the Utah case 2 years ago. In that moment, I knew that losing you would tear my entire world apart."

"You absolutely fucking idiot!" Y/n cries out. Before Spencer can react, y/n takes him by the collar of his sweater and crashes her lips onto his with fiery passion. Their tongues dance in tandem together. They're both breathless and panting when they rise from their kiss, y/n's hand still gripped on his sweater. "I love you, too, you fucking bonehead."

527 notes · View notes

allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

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

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mariasont · 8 days

Text

The Manuscript - A.H

a/n: this was supposed to be based on t.s new song manuscript, but it didn't realllyyy turn out like that

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pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: while unpacking you find a series of letters aaron wrote to you in college

warnings: angst, age gap (reader is 20s, hotch is 40s), haley and jack don't exist in this universe

wc: 1.3k

Your gaze swept over the towering stacks of boxes littering your living room floor, and with a resigned sigh, you began the daunting task of unpacking them. Your hands found the nearest box deftly lifting the flaps as you began to pull out its contents. Your felt the soft crinkle of paper beneath your fingers, and gently, you drew out a stack of letters, their edges softened with time, all neatly tied together with a string.

Your heart seized a sudden halt as you realized just what they were. Your throat constricted, parched, as tears stung your eyes, threatening to spill over, your fingers coming to rest over your mouth. Instinctively, your body sank onto the cold hardwood floor, gently placing the papers down beside you. You had forgotten these had even existed, let alone made it with you on the move.

You didn't remember seeing them when you packed, did you? Your fingers shook slightly as they picked apart the knot, and with a hesitant touch, you reached for the first piece of weathered paper.

January 5

Honey,

Your letter was a welcome surprise, far sweeter than any text message could be. I enjoyed spending New Years Eve with you too, and I hope this case ends quickly so I can take you on a real date.

I'm glad to hear college is going well. Should you encounter any more issues with your professor, please let me know. You're a bright young woman, and I have no doubt he'll see that in time. I am looking forward to your next letter.

Yours,

Aaron

March 12

Honey,

I'm glad you enjoyed our date as much as I did. At times, I find my thoughts wandering to you in that dress, and it's a welcome distraction.

I'm glad you look forward to our letters, because I do too. And yes, rest assured, I'm taking all necessary precautions in the field. Don't worry, the team has my back, especially Garcia--she's got more eyes on us than stars in the sky.

Goodluck on your psychology exam. I know you will ace it.

Yours,

Aaron.

May 5

Honey,

I've read your letter several times, and I want you to know that it's perfectly normal to question your path. Trust your instincts--they've led you well thus far. Remember you are allowed to change your mind. Your parents will understand.

No matter what you decide, I have no doubt you will succeed. You have a rare combination of intelligence and empathy that will serve you well in any profession.

Once I'm back, how about we go to that restaurant you love? Consider it a date.

Yours,

Aaron.

July 19

Honey,

Summer suits you, I can tell--even from a distance. I'm proud of the work you're doing--shadowing at the occupational therpay office and working with children is no small feat. You'll have to tell me all about it when I get back.

The case is demanding, as they often are. And as for the sweatshirt, consider it yours. I had a feeling it wouldn't find its way back to me anyway.

We should talk about getting you a key to my place. Then you'll have no need to borrow my things--you'll have access to them whenever you wish.

I love you. I'll say it again when I see you.

Yours forever,

Aaron

January 14

Honey,

Congratulations on your first semester of OT school. I am incredibly proud of you and everything you have accomplished. Smarty pants.

I'm glad to hear you've been using the journal I gave you for Christmas. I would give you a thousand if that's what you wanted.

When I'm back, we'll celebrate your achievements properly. Until then, know I'm grateful for you every day. You've made me the happiest I've been, and I cherish every moment we share. I love you.

Yours forever,

Aaron

May 20

Honey,

Your last letter lingered on the topic of our age difference, and I've been giving it a lot of thought. It's a subject that, admittedly, has crossed my mind more than once. But let me reassure you, to me, it's the person you are, not the years you've lived, that matters most.

I understand the concerns that come with this, and I want you to know that it's okay. Your feelings are valid. We're navigating this together, and I remain certain in my commitment to you and to us.

We'll talk more about this when I'm home. I love you.

Yours forever,

Aaron

August 8

Honey,

I want you to know that I didn't mean to leave things unresolved, I'm sorry I was called away. I'm not writing to rehash the argument. I understand everything you said, and it's given me much to think about.

You are the most important part of my life, and us being at odds is more challenging than any case I've ever face. I love you deeply, and I'm committed to finding a way through this together. When I return, let's sit down and talk--really talk. I'm sorry for the way things were left, and I hope we can move past this.

Yours forever,

Aaron

December 22

Honey,

I find myself at a loss for words yet compelled to write to you. I've had time to reflect on everything that happened between us. I'm deeply sorry for any hurt I've caused, and how things unfolded. My only wish was for us to want the same things.

Please know, I will always be here for you, in any capacity you need. I hope you find someone who is worthy of you and can provide the life you deserve. You deserve someone who can walk with you through all stages of your life--someone who can give you the family you dream of. You have so much to offer.

You are an extraordinary person, and I have no doubt you will find great love and joy. And though it may not be with me, please remember, I still love you.

Yours always,

Aaron.

You hadn't even realized you were crying until your tears began to soak into the page, each droplet distorting the text as it spread. Your hand moved instinctively to your face, the fabric of your sleeve brushing against your wet cheek. A decade-old ache twisted inside you sharply, as fresh as if it were only yesterday.

You returned the letters to their stack, the bow tied as neatly as it was before, and laid them at the bottom of the box. As the papers found their place, your focus shifted, something else catching your attention--the journal he'd given you.

The sudden patter of footsteps coming down the stairs snapped you back to the present. Hastily, you wiped away the lingering tears and secured the lid on the box. As you turned, your face transformed with a practiced smile just as your seven-year-old daughter came skipping into view, her voice bubbling with excitement, "Mommy, mommy!"

Gathering her up in your arms, you showered her cheeks with affectionate kisses, her infectious giggles filling the empty house.

"When is daddy going to be home?"

With a gentle smile, you replied, "Soon, sweetheart," while your fingers danced along her side, eliciting more giggles. "Do you want to help Mommy unpack?"

She quickly scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Mmm, no, not really."

You laughed, and your heart swelled with love so intense it almost hurt. The front door swung open, and your daughter's voice pierced the air once more with a, "Daddy!"

Her little feet dashed off as she rushed to greet him, leaving you to resume unpacking. You barely had time to refocus when you felt a gentle touch in your hair. Aaron was there, kneeling to your level with a tender smile.

"Hi, honey," he said, his hand pausing as he noted the redness around your eyes. "What's wrong angel?"

You reach for the letters, holding them out to Aaron with a half-smile. "Just revisiting the time you were this close to losing the best thing in your life," you tease, a laugh bubbling up. But as the laughter fades, it morphs into a sob.

Aaron's laughter mingled with yours as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. "Yeah, that was a close one," he admitted, his voice a soft rumble. "Glad I came to my senses."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #criminal minds angst #cm #thomas gibson #Spotify

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gangplanksorenji · 7 months

Text

I. Apotheosis

Pairing: IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

Word Count: 10,660

A/N 1: Hello Orenjideul! I probably think this is late but it's better than never! The end was written a bit rushed and not further proofreading but I hope y'all like it! It's my special birthday fic for IVE's beautiful and captivating leader, Kim Gaeul! Wishing her the best day of her life and enjoy reading this angst, smut and fluff-filled fic!

A/N 2: Also, featuring someone at the end, hehe...

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

“Love can be the sweetest venom you can take.”

It certainly is, well, maybe, according to your experience.

You cursed yourself to never love again for the fact that it's more than unbearable to see your lover in someone's arms, comfortable, like your relationship never existed with her.

It hurts to see her go, to let her go—it fucking hurts, but, you needed to do what you need to do because you don't deserve her.

Strings of broken melodies played the piano when you cried, a symphony unfinished and cacophonous sounds ensued.

You bawled when that day came and you wanted to forget it, absolutely. Yet, simply, you just can't forget her like she never existed because you loved her so much that you gave your world to her but in the end, she annihilated yours and your heart…

Broken pieces and a scar left to you is all you had now and it still hurts to think about her. Your mind is clouded with her and her only and it hurts that you can't bring the past back.

It hurts to think about it…

It hurts.

No one can probably mend you—make you smile genuinely like she did, make you laugh like she did—no one can.

You wanted to move on, but the venom stays throughout your soul and you'd be damned to even think of getting it out—letting everything out because you still want her—

“Is everything alright, sir?”

A voice echoes around your ear, the soft tone lingers around you as you are woken up onto the reality of life that you wanted to end.

“You're like bawling your eyes out for like an hour now—”

“Isn't it obvious?” your tone harsh and laced with venom as maybe, the obliviousness of the girl is not your type of tolerating it. If you can't even tolerate the burning sensation of the alcohol scarring your throat then what more about the petite girl beside you?

“I'm s-sorry, sir. I'm just a little bit concerned about you—”

The girl's eyes glistens with fear as your tone does scares her, but she want answers and she's willing to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable in the best way possible—

“Hey, why don't you just give me a favor, hm?”

She leans her head down slowly, her senses perceived as she tries to hear the coarse, broken tone of your voice. “Okay, s-sir…”

“Why don't you just moved back and leave me the fuck alone, do you understand? Because I have no time for your reassuring bullshit—or just whatever you want to do, okay?”

The girl just nods and faces back away from you, doing what you've said. You didn't feel bad for her as you didn't care about anything and everything in this world, now.

It sucks to be heartbroken—at your lowest point with no one to lean on.

And maybe, someday, you'll regret the reckless and selfish disposition you've introduced to that girl—but who cares, anyway?

This is just a tough night to fight with, and it's not easy as the demons inside your head lures you into the abyss of unwanted vices.

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

Drink. Gulp. Exhale. And it repeats, constantly.

You weren't like this but you'll do everything just to forget everything that scarred you even if it means for you to risk your life. You can't bother to think of anything other than uttering her name and the broken sounds of discomfort as tears run down your cheek slowly.

Drink more and drink another—the burning sensation down your throat makes you groan yet the sweetness of the liquid possibly contradicts the pain you’re feeling. It probably scars down your throat, at least not adding more to your broken heart.

The remnants of the broken melodies of her voice still lingers around your ear, hearing her voice and it hurts you even more. You slam down your curled fists—the strength not enough to cause a dent nor hurt you—onto the wooden table as you let out hints of contained anger and frustration from the earlier quarrel. You even wanna drink more to give yourself to the neverending wormhole of nothingness—bending the laws of nature just to get out of the agony you’re feeling right now—yet it’s not worth it to spend couple of bucks just for another bottle of alcohol that won’t even make you let her go.

It is not worth it; you should just go home.

It’s definitely not.

You then place the glass down and course your way out of the bar, just wanting to go home and commit into a deep slumber for your body to take a rest from this strenuous day.

Drowsiness controls over your enervated body and so is the dizziness affecting the way you act. You’ll go home no matter what happens and it starts with just a single flick of the key, starting the engine of you car then closing your door—

An arm stops you from that latter advance, making you furrow your eyebrows in disbelief before looking at the petite figure that’s been stopping you from closing your car’s door.

“Don’t sir, you’re drunk. You shouldn’t drive—”

You recognized her face with just a flash of your eyes towards her. You may be tipsy and heartbroken, but you’re not stupid nor easy to be manipulated as annoyance changes your demeanor.

“You again? Gosh—what do you want from me? Why do you even fucking care—”

“Please sir—” the petite, black-haired girl stops you from closing the door as she further extends her arm, leaving you immediately furious from her attempts. “—it's not worth it and you’re drunk. Please just call an Uber or something—”

“Let. go. of. it. Now. I swear to god—just leave me alone!”

The girl is stubborn as you ever expected and you hate it. You just wanna push her off in order for everything not to be halted but she's practically a stranger to you—you never wanna cause a fight of hurt with people you don't know, especially with a girl this beautiful and modest—

“No, sir. You may even get to an accident if you—”

“Just stop—” With no other choice, you flick your finger hard onto her arm, hurting her as she lets go, the pain making her rub all over the red spot in order to ease the pain. You immediately closed the door as soon as she freed herself from the imaginary restraints. You drove off hurriedly yet carefully, leaving the girl stranded on the parking lot as you can see her wince in pain as she caresses her arm to ease the burning sensation—she probably even glared at you because of what you've done but you didn't care because you just want to go home.

This is probably risky considering how you're feeling afloat because of the alcohol but that didn't stop you from your advances of getting home and thankfully, your apartment isn't that far enough and you can drive safely and carefully without wasting so much time.

Thank god it was just like a fifteen-minute drive and thanks to little-to-no traffic, you got home faster than you expected—probably even safer, considering that if your body became so depleted that you slept and crashed onto something or someone. It is not a great sight to see as you could just imagine how your day will be worse if that did happen.

Thankfully, it didn't and you came home safe and sound.

But yet there’s no other sound that can’t be heard other than your silent cries of need—in need, of her.

You loved her so much that you almost gave up everything just for her.

You loved her so much that she's been your entire world and you’re almost into nothingness without her.

Speak of the devil, you’ve foreshadowed yourself into diving down onto the dark path of oblivion. Some may point out the obsessive form of love you have with her (in which, probably, you have) but the truth is, she made you better. Better in a sense that you became a better person today than what you are from the past and you absolutely thank her for that.

She made you the man that you are today, building up the foundations that made you stronger and such willpower that can reach even the farthest mountains yet it all went downhill, a landslide rupturing and annihilating the foundation that has been built slowly throughout the years now that she's out of your life.

You hated that you loved her, now you do.

She's your core memory you wanted to forget but you simply can't—because she's more than special.

It cuts like a knife seeing her go but there's nothing you can do to get her back.

“Why did she do that to me?” you muttered to yourself again, questioning the reality of a sin she's done that was impossible at first but now, was more than close on being possible.

While you bawl your eyes out, bottling out the deeply-contained emotions that has been kept inside you, you reach on your brown leather jacket, wanting to get your phone yet something caught your eye immediately—a note latched by a transparent adhesive onto your jacket that says: “김가을(Kim Ga-eul)” and then, possibly her number below it.

You already assumed it's that annoying girl that owes you everything and you just want to brush off that fact but you can't. Wanting to throw away the not-so-important note, you reflected on yourself and thought that she just wants to help you genuinely after all but why you and how did she know you’re going through something? If it's the others, they won’t bother talking to you nor do anything to mess with you—if you look like you always want to start up a fight, who will bother?

You know something is up with her and your gut is telling you so. Not to mention how comfortable she looks talking with you despite the possible fear evident on her countenance—it feels like she knew you a long time ago which is peculiar, to say the least.

You gotta know her more and her small actions of concern and uncanny relation to something you can't fathom just piqued your interest towards knowing her more.

*phone buzzes*

“Come on, come on—pick up….”

Every second brings a faster beating of your heart as it races intrepidity and anticipation. You became sober as the alcohol didn't have any effects on you anymore and the longing emotions of desolation makes you invulnerable for the liquid to take over you.

Clearing your mind, you now feel regret for being too harsh with the girl you’ve dealt with earlier—which is probably the person named “Kim Ga-eul”. You never wanted to act rude on the first place, yet there are two things that caused that sudden vexation within your demeanor: firstly, the passive-aggressive approach towards strangers as you need to be cautious whenever someone approaches you because you may get in danger and lastly, and probably the best reason of your demeanor, is because of you being not in the mood for everything because of a heartbreak.

There’s still heart in you even if you’re totally broken and lost and you need to apologize to her—that’s your current goal to do as you can’t scar yourself with another grudge that will make you guilty until the end of times.

“Come on—”

“Hello? Who is this?”

Her voice and its tone—it’s definitely the girl you’ve been looking for and a sigh of relief escaped your breath as she answered the phone.

“Hello—look, I know I’m too rude earlier and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t really—”

*phone beeps*

The line disconnects and you’ve never felt so gloomy and disappointed with yourself (possibly a metaphor since you’re already feeling down and worthless). You could’ve done better but you let out the rage inside you and you hate it. Now you feel guilty of what you’ve done to her and possibly may scar her since she may not trust any strangers from now on because of what you’ve done.

No, you’re going to apologize to her no matter what—you’ll mend the broken link that she made with you, even though it’s fragile at the moment but her giving your number and her name says something that she’s probably interested in you.

She’s maybe interested in helping you too…

A girl like her can probably combat the depression you’re feeling as of now—she may also mend what’s broken on you and possibly, fix you.

Sighing in defeat, you gave up on calling to her as she possibly ignores the past three calls you’ve made because of fear yet you’re not giving up just like that. Leaving a text to possibly reassure her, you faintly smile as the girl that you fought with earlier is now clouding your mind, even though you met her in a not-so-special way—possibly, a regrettable day for the both of you yet a memorable one.

Your enervated body can’t keep up to open your eyes or move a muscle as you fall and give in to your drowsiness, slowly closing your eyes and getting yourself into a deep slumber.

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

Sets of multiple chirps from the birds outside your apartment woke you up as it's loud enough to be your makeshift alarm clock yet those are way more peaceful than the ones you're used to. You slowly open your eyes only to see the dishevelment of everything around you—the sofa pillows dispersed around the vicinity of your couch, the crumpled tissues and cans around the coffee table, your jacket on the floor as it was probably made as a makeshift blanket in the earlier hours of your sleep.

You regain energy for a couple of seconds and rise up from the couch, reaching for your phone after as you're anticipating to read the possible reply of the girl you've made contact with and to your surprise (not really), she didn't reply.

Yet. Yet.

Well, there's still a chance of a reply later or the next day—all you know is that she'll respond to your possibly desperate attempts of assurance towards her and that you'll never give up until you get that desired choice of words from hers, even if it only flashed within those blue pixels on your phone.

You sigh heavily thinking that it's maybe over yet the optimistic side of you says that yes, she'll reply anytime.

She inevitably will and that's the thought buried inside your mind.

Yawning as the post-sleep drowsiness is still all over you, you power yourself through rejuvenating and stretching your muscles and arms. Not so long after, you clean up everything that's a mess and prepare yourself to make a simple breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs with spring onions, some toasted eggs with butter and lastly, some freshly-brewed coffee with a hint of sugar as the cherry on top.

Munching onto the egg-filled bun, you scroll your fingertips down to your phone and just within a minute of surfing through social media, a familiar name with a message pops up as a notification and it makes your heart skip a beat from the utmost anticipation.

김가을 (Kim Gaeul) on 7:48 - “Sorry for bothering you too…”

Five words yet thousands of emotions can be felt coursing through your veins as you feel butterflies after reading such a short message. It's a relief knowing that the girl is not utterly scared for her life because of you but you're still feeling skeptical considering what you've done wrong to her as a first, not-so-accidental approach.

You'll do everything to further reassure her as you don't want to scar yourself into thinking that she'll hold that grudge until her hair grows white so with an immediate action, you text her if she's down to meet you up on the same bar the both of you first met up. Of course, the adrenaline and the tension of your knees can't bear to be hidden in every word you type. You really wanted to apologize to her badly and to clear your name towards her yet a reflection hit you—what if she takes this negatively? Like, she might feel uncomfortable meeting up with you after what happened yesterday?

Sudden reflections with a hint of doubt hit you as your approach throughout the situation might be eccentric to nature yet it’s a gamble—a risk worth more than playing a deck of cards; a risk worth remembering or worth forgetting.

It's not like you're going to lose anything if the two of you didn't end on good terms with each other—the both of you are just strangers after all with a relationship fragile than a fiber of hair; a bond more shallow than an acquaintance.

It's not like that easy to let her go despite the situations said above because there's something within that made you captivated with her charms and the uncanny thought of her possibly knowing you before.

You swear to god you haven't met her once in your life yet, but… is it not the same boat on her side?

It may or may not, you don't care because at the end of the day, you'll aim to figure this out with her and possibly, be friends with her.

You swear to god you won't love anyone again other than her but she may break the short-living curse you swore until your deathbed.

If you can just send more pleas close to a hundred towards her even through text you absolutely would yet it's a hyperbolic exaggeration. But like, applying more bandages onto the wound won't help it heal faster, so, you just waited for her reply hoping that she's down and to your surprise, she agreed to meet up with you.

You smiled like an idiot, full of delight yet not that bright. You hurriedly prepared yourself to look as presentable as possible—decently dressed and neat and not looking like a lowlife in distress.

Locking the doors and securing everything on leaving with necessities, you hop onto your car right away and go straight to the bar the both of you first met.

Hopefully, this ends well on a good note…

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

Tapping and fidgeting your fingers onto the wooden surface of the table, you sigh slowly full of nervousness and utter excitement as every second counting feels heavy. Time ticks as you wait for the beautiful girl to meet you and as soon as you saw her walking her way towards the glass door, time felt eerie and slow—not frightening but more likely uncannily strange—as her modest walk sends you heart beating triple times, her inching closer towards the table you're in. You fix your posture and your demeanor, hoping to have a better “first” approach than what you showed her yesterday which is clearly embarrassing and unacceptable, to say the least.

You then opted to take the chair out as a gentlemanly move but she insisted, saying that it's just alright if you don't do it and she's not used to boys acting like a gentleman. You just nod but she still thanked you for your sweet, little actions. Despite the awkward moment, you take a look at her flawless features sculpted perfectly by the gods themselves—probably an angel in disguise, distinctable right from her beautiful, brown eyes up to her porcelain skin—god, she’s drop-dead glamorous.

“Hello…”

A faint voice escapes your lips, your tone softer than a feather as she responds with a bow and greeting you softly too. The awkward silence was broken with a single word uttered from the girl’s lips, smiling faintly as she felt charmed with your looks.

“Hi…”

You smile from her response as you make eye contact with her, in a sense of total seriousness and aim to let her forgive your reckless actions yesterday.

“Uhm, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I was just like, not in the mood for anything.”

“I’m also sorry too—”

“No, no—” you interrupt her unnecessary apologies towards you as you wanted to tell her that it’s all your fault and not hers.

It wasn’t, but with a pure heart like her, she still found a way to apologize to you which made your heart flutter yet it also makes her vulnerable for deception. Acceptance is a must, but you don’t find any way that she should accept the fact that it’s her fault, so you reassure her thoroughly and let her feel comfortable with you.

“—I’m clearly on the wrong side here. I shouldn’t really act like that towards strangers and also, I appreciate your concerns towards me but—” her eyes glistens with anticipation, ready to discern everything that’ll escape from your lips—

“—it’s not really none of your business but, yeah. I dearly appreciate your concern towards me yesterday. I was just too lost and controlled by my own emotions…” you bow down your head in dismay as you remember the moments of quarrel between her and you again—where everything went downhill and possibly, the lowest point of your life.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. I just tend to have the urge of helping people when they feel lost or in need of guidance or something—like, I can sense it…”

She’s so pure and innocent—she’s like the closest epitome of a saint. You can’t look her in the eyes anymore but she does, and she looks intently at you; her eyes gleaming in awe and anticipation.

“It’s going to be alright, trust me…”

You smile faintly at her. It's purely genuine this time as her reassurance heals you slowly, mending your broken heart.

“Thank you, genuinely.”

“N-no problem—by the way, can I know your name? I—uhm, just felt weird that we instantly talked to each other without me knowing y-your name…”

You huffed as you got shy from her sudden actions as you softly replied to her, your tone still audible in a way yet soothing and deep.

“Uhm—my name is Wooseol and you’re… Gaeul, I suppose??”

“Y-yes, my name’s Gaeul. Kim Gaeul and I suppose you already knew my name because of t-the note?”

You scoff as your hand sheepishly scratched the back of your neck, feeling shy towards her. “Y-yeah… I also just assumed it was your name because you were the last person I talked with and the note wasn’t there on my jacket before I met you.”

“But you could never assume that always, right?” Gaeul giggles as she teases you with no harmful intentions, making you sheepishly laugh at her mischievous remarks.

“Yeah—but is it really your name? Gaeul?”

“Yeah, *giggles* I was just teasing you…”

Both of you smiled at each other as you felt comfortable talking with her, her playful and clever attitude checking the boxes of your ideal type. As much as it hurts to let her go and your unconditional love still shouting out her name, Gaeul is probably the one that’s destined for you and the kind of girl that is loyal and will love you passionately like how you loved her.

Maybe it’s just because Gaeul has been clouding your mind since yesterday and your emotions are taking over you, again—who knows?

You still don’t want to take things way too fast with her and you need a moderate pace for upping the relationship with her but establishing a good bond with her will be a great move, so, you asked her something and this time, you felt more confident than the earlier timid approach.

“Gaeul, m-may I ask you something?”

Her eyebrow furrowed, her gaze fixated onto yours, leaving you breathless before responding a simple, “Yes?”

This is your chance now so go and take it.

“Can we b-be friends? At least… *scoffs*”

God, it’s so awkward and all of a sudden—you muttered to yourself as you feel off while saying that but nonetheless, Gaeul blushed and took it as a nice initiative from you. She didn’t hesitate to nod immediately, signaling that you can be friends with her. This feels like you’re going to your old high school days, asking someone to be friends with them and it’s like rolling a dice because you’ll never expect if they will say a rejuvenating “yes” or a heart-breaking “no”.

But it doesn’t matter. Knowing that everything’s fine with Gaeul makes this day a lot better, making you feel delighted than ever and possibly, healing the wound she caused on your heart.

It seemed strange how everything unfolded and the sudden acceptance of apologies, but it's just going to get better from now on and everything's holding you back to where you were—a strong man being healed by an angel.

“Also, may I ask one thing with you, Gaeul?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Are you younger than me or not? Because I was born in 2002 and I was thinking that it’s a bit disrespectful not calling you with honorifics—”

Her eyes lit like flames, full of desire as she’s shocked that she’s the same age as you.

“Woah—no, it’s alright Wooseol-ie… I’m born in the same year too! You don’t need to address me as a noona *giggles*.”

You lightly giggle at her response, also shocked by the fact that she was born at the same year as you and you didn’t expect that. You continued talking with her and actually got to know each other’s personalities more. That doesn’t come with a bit of bickering and small laughs which is the cherry on top of every fun and engaging conversation. Not so long after, she asked for your number and unhesitantly, you typed your number on her contact and it comes with a bright smile of hers that captivates you more, falling onto her spell slowly.

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

Boisterous laughs full of joy and stupid memories, teak-jerking moments from the past that were poignant to feel inside and a lot more was shared with the beautiful girl beside you as the hours went by. It felt like you’ve started all over again as the undying feeling of ecstasy fueled you into a good mood today and of course, the feeling of love coursing to your veins can be felt again. You don’t want to rush things with her, like engaging in another relationship or something crazier than that but you can’t help yourself to feel that way. Who are you to blame if an angelic, heaven-sent girl came down and be friends with you? You’re absolutely not to be blamed here.

Well, even with the inevitable happiness you’ve felt with her earlier, there’s still a feeling of guilt and sadness that’s corrupting your heart slowly, breaking it into pieces. Why so? Because you still love her.

They may say that you must move on as the past is already buried in the past, but you want to write your own, brilliant future with her but you need to do what you must do. The pain is agonizing to deal with, but you’ll believe in saying that whenever there’s pain in your life and you’ve endured, you’ll be rewarded with a good cause and really hope that it’ll be true.

Let those pessimistic thoughts fade away as you’re only investing your interest towards Kim Gaeul only and only her.

It’s getting dark and the sun will set soon as the orange skies can be seen onto the horizon, another day ending yet there’s nothing near an end when you’re still with Gaeul.

Probably, the two of you may consider this a date on how much you’ve bonded over the hours. This may feel surreal and out of the blue yet you won’t complain as everything feels enchanted and you want that feeling.

“Want me to order another drink, Seol-ie?”

“Oh, no, I’m already good, Gaeul. Thanks though…”

The both of you wander over the horizon under the pine tree, taking a gulp on the sweet beverage you both love. It doesn’t come with a deep sigh in every gulp and your eyes wandering down to her angelic features. The both of you still converse with each other, sharing and reminiscing the core memories from the past and how you’re grateful and regretful having to experience those.

The both of you became so comfortable with each other that you began to empathize with her and that never felt this good.

Sure, it really boosts up your mood and morale within the given time as you feel open to someone you're comfortable with but talking with Gaeul feels way different. Maybe it's just a certain feeling of affection and love towards her and your biased thoughts yet who are you to blame?

“Thank you for these things, Seol-ie… I never shared this much with someone and I—felt s-so—I don't really know how to describe it—”

“I can't describe it either and I also feel the same way, Gaeul… I s-still can't believe all of these happened just within a single day…”

It does feel too fast yet you won't complain any further because at the other boat, Gaeul's enamored countenance possibly comes to a conclusion that she liked talking with you.

“This feels unreal, yeah—I feel that way too and I—uhm—s-sorry for being like this Seol-ie. It's just been awhile since I talked to someone like this…”

Gaeul faces you and you face her, making eye contact as you can see flames of passion igniting beneath those lovely, brown eyes of hers. You smiled at her and reassured her to not apologize since this is completely normal to feel because you feel the same way too.

Butterflies on your stomach—that's the best description of what the both of you are feeling right now! Yes, yes it is.

“It's alright. It's normal to feel butterflies in these situations.”

You put down your drink at the wooden seat of the bench as you gently course your hand to brush against hers, feeling her soft, porcelain skin touch yours is genuinely captivating.

“I also want to thank you for listening to me. It was hard breaking up with her but like, I had to do it. Thank you for that, Gaeul.”

You faintly smile as the coarseness of your voice becomes evident once you mention her.

Gaeul knows deep down your heart that you still love her—she can see it in your eyes; how your pupils dilated and widen every time you mention alongside a hint of tear running down your cheek, in which, to her response, wipes it down with her finger.

“Hey, hey, it probably hurts but, I guess we should take our time to move on and accept it. It's probably letting her go but if you knew it was the best for you, then you made the right choice.”

Gaeul inches closer to you and smiles at you, her reassurance definitely healing the wound that’s been scarring you for the past week.You then thanked her with all your heart because of her listening to you and being understanding to the current situation you’re in.

You never thought how pure and down to earth Gaeul is and that’s the beauty of it. Hearing her deep, soothing voice while talking just puts you in tranquil, in a state where everything just feels right and peaceful with her and you love it.

You probably fell into her spell now—falling in love with her and just her only.

“Thank you for the kind words, Gaeul. I—really owe you because of this—”

“No, it’s really fine, Seol-ie! I’m just like—you know, giving you advice for the better you to possibly come back.”

And she’s just making you fall in love with her even more and there’s the venom that you’re going to take. A venom because of the fact that you still love her but Gaeul’s just captivating your heart even more at this moment, and you would like to up the ante.

“Uhm, Gaeul, may I ask you something?”

“Uhm, sure!”

You sigh, regaining the confidence and the will to say this to her as you anticipate something that will make you smile in delight or will break your heart.

“I really, really appreciate everything you’ve said and I just wanna really say that I really like you, Gaeul.”

A momentary pause breaks the noise and the tension between the both of you, your eyes anticipating a response for her and Gaeul herself a bit shocked yet flustered with your sudden confession.

“You know, Wooseol—I really like you too and it’s genuine but…”

“But?”

She sighs as she gains the courage but a sudden realization hit her, responding to you with an amicable tone and brushing off the intrusive thought she has in mind.

Or is it…

“—N-nothing, really. It’s just—I’m a bit shocked I guess, you know? Not really used to this feeling…”

“It’s fine, Gaeul. I really liked you from the beginning but I was just scared of being rejected because of what I did yesterday and honestly, you’re perfect.”

The word resonates around her ears as it felt enchanting to hear the seven-letter word to be directed to her. She hides her face in embarrassment because of your heartfelt compliment towards her as you giggled softly because of her adorable, little actions.

“Yah~ Seol-ie. D-don’t make me blush like that—”

You then catch her gaze again, your eyes fixated on looking at her only as you let your thoughts win and confessed everything to her.

You’re so mad in love with her right now and you’ll let her know that.

“But I’m for real, Gaeul! You’re beautiful, down-to-earth—you’re perfect to my eyes. I feel so assured and I feel loved because of you, Gaeul—I love you…”

Cupping her cheek with your palm and inching closer to her, she was flummoxed with the sudden action of yours but doesn’t complain as she’s feeling the same towards you—the feelings are mutual and there’s no one that’ll stop the both of you from letting everything out.

Gently and slowly, you caress her cheeks and let everything out—

“I l-love you too, Seol-ie—you probably don’t k-know this but—”

As soon as you heard the word, it triggered something in you resulting in a deep, captivating kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated slowly as you felt the love and the sweet taste of the flesh brushing off against hers. She tastes incredible as the strawberry lipstick makes you feel insatiable towards her, kissing her passionately. You immediately pulled out as you felt guilty for being too rushed onto an anticipating climax. The both of you exchanged breaths as the short, enthralling session made the both of you feel butterflies into your stomachs (of course, it’s figurative).

“W-woah… Getting too excited, Seol-ie?” she giggled as punches your chest lightly, in a state of shock and awe as your actions definitely moved a muscle on her hibernating heart—a beast being woken up from its long slumber.

“Sorry about t-that, Gaeul—I c-can’t help it—you made me feel this way. I’m sorry about t-that…”

“There’s no need to—the f-feelings are mutual.”

You flash another smile to her, letting her know how much you love the feeling of insatiability towards her as you anticipate more or none.

“Wooseol…”

“Yes, Gaeul? Is there anything wro—”

She shushes you with a single finger brushing onto your lip as she adorably captivates you, “There’s nothing wrong, Seol-ie. I just w-want you—now, please…”

She wants you for now? What does that even mean—oh…

Yes, and you knew what she’s feeling right now—the absolute need for you and to feel your love.

“Gaeul—” you inch away from her a little bit as you ask her if she’s serious about it and there’s no games being played. “—what do you mean by this? Are you in need of—”

“Just you, Seol-ie—just you, please.”

It’s the glint on her eyes, tears being held back from the emotions she’s about to unshackle—the uncontained feeling of need, unable to be restrained anymore with just a hair’s width of chains holding it together. She demands you and it’s evident on her eyes and her hands naturally—and possibly involuntarily—caressing your thigh for further encouragement.

You know that this is not the place to take action upon her request and needs, so, you had a better plan in store for the both of you that she’ll surely love.

“Let’s just take this on to my place, shall we? Because I don’t want people to see us like this in public.”

She knows you have a point and she doesn’t want to get caught up and get embarrassed so she eagerly nods as the both of you stood up on the bench while the both of you were sitting and got your unfinished drinks.

The eyes—specifically her eyes seeking venture towards the promised land. She is brave; she is brilliant; she is her. You knew how adventurous she can be as she shared how bold and vocal she is whenever she wanted to do something but this was probably over her bucket list of wants.

The both of you then went to your car, readying yourselves to go onto your place and you can’t wait how everything will unfold once this day closes its own chapter.

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

Traveling down the breeze of the wind is sure enthralling and the both never felt so comfortable to be in touch with nature’s finest. There were little to no cars to be seen on the streets as probably, the roads are busier onto the other side of the metropolis and that’s the wonder—you went back home safely and faster than expected as traffic was non-existent. The lack of possibly heavy traffic during these busy hours is surprising yet you’re not complaining.

“Aaaand we’re here in my humble home!” your cheerful tone rejuvenates the earlier silent aura around the apartment as she was in awe of how good your apartment looks, almost so cozy to live in and probably, her ideal place to rest with.

“Woah… Your a-apartment looks really nice, Seol-ie. It’s like—it probably feels cozy to live here!”

You sheepishly laugh as you scratch your head, feeling flustered about the compliment she said on how tidy and invigorating the cleanliness of your apartment is. You’re also just a big fan of cleaning stuff and organizing things and it’s just wholesome seeing someone appreciating your aspects—possibly your personality too.

“This is just something simple—nothing really much, heh—”

“Oh come on, Wooseol—your place looks really good and neat but other than that—”

You definitely know where this will go yet you still want to have her own ways and not yours. As much as she wants to appreciate everything, she can’t let her needs unattended as you pin her slowly onto the couch, letting herself rest on it as your face is now just centimeters close to her, almost kissing her in the process.

“Why is Gaeul getting proactive? Really want me, hm?”

“Stop—but I do, I really do want you even b—” she paused for a moment as you were caught off-guard, stopping yourself from your playful antics with her.

“What, Gaeul?”

“N-nothing, Seol-ie—I just become nervous about these kinds of things…”

You cup her cheek as you look her in the eyes, assuring her that everything will be fine and she just needs to be confident with herself. You can see the passion burning behind those glowing orbs of hers and the feeling is really mutual between the both of you. After a smile enunciating the final signal, you let yourself fall onto her spell as you latch your lips onto her slowly, her immediately reciprocating on the kiss that was so torrid since the start and you absolutely love it.

The clashing of both the velvety-red flesh never stopped but intensified as every second fades, the dueling between the both of you let each other know how much you want each other.

The unstoppable force meets the immovable object and both are really the great epitome of that paradox—but there's no such paradox if everything is evidently true and the lust between each kiss explains everything well.

“God—Gaeul—you're such a talented kisser."

“No, you are, Seol-ie—mmph!”

You continue barraging her lips with your own delightful act, each kiss dominating her as she moans softly while eagerly reciprocating. Her hands then roam around your neck, your abs and your chest, caressing the clothed skin softly as she feels the tension between the both of you.

“Gosh, you're so insatiable, Gaeul.”

You kiss her again, and again, yet this time, there's more burning passion and assertive dominance as you add a little bit of tongue for spiciness.

And to no surprise, she reciprocates on your lustful actions by doing the same, both of your tongues dancing and battling for dominance and neither can win nor lose.

She let herself be free and so did both of your saliva seeping out of your mouth, the vehemence on each torrid, lustful kiss sendong serotonin down your veins.

After a hot minute of kissing, you pulled out of her seemingly tight suction of her lips as she whined a little alongside her moans, wanting to feel more yet oxygen is to blame here.

“T-too g-good, Seol-ie—that w-was great—ohh…”

“You k-kiss me so well too, Gaeul. Have y-you done this b-before?”

Almost getting in a state of trance, you invigorate yourself by distracting your eyes onto her immaculate features and your hands haphazardly caressing and roaming down her waist. She subtly moans as she tries to think of an articulate answer but really can't.

“M-maybe just once, Seol-ie. It's also a g-good experience but yours is b-better—you're a better kisser than h-him…”

You're perplexed that she already had a good experience with this kind of scenario yet you didn't mind that—it's maybe written the stars on how talented she is and that's the beauty of her.

Despite the little talk, you still want her and to feel her, just like how she wants you. With that in mind and being the gentleman that you are, you ask her permission for something you want to do, anticipating for a “yes” escaping her luscious lips.

“May I, Gaeul?”

Brushing off the little hair that's been covering the pristine skin of her neck, you wanted to latch onto those soft flesh but you waited for her permission. Of course, knowing how much she wanted you, she never hesitated to nod as she knew exactly what you wanted to do with her.

She unbuttons the two buttons on her oversized long sleeves, making you peek onto her sharp hint of collarbones and the porcelain skin if her neck as you gently meet your lips onto the musky scent of her flesh, suckling on it as she moans full or fervor yet it's still soft.

You pepper her skin full of kisses as her moans just reverberate around your ear, making you up the ante the intensity of your kisses. You don't want to mark her but probably you will considering how much the suction is being felt between both worlds yet she doesn't complain but rather helps you out—herself positioning comfortably for you and guiding your left hand onto her waist to further feel her affection.

“Gosh—m-more please, Seol-ie—ahh, right there!”

Latching onto her collarbones now, she feels the kryptonite running down her veins as she succumbs onto submission, fully submitting herself onto the sea of kisses that you initiated and her drowning herself into her absolute desires.

“Please, Seol-ie—I can't t-take it anymore—I want to do something m-more than this…”

“But I'm still not done kissing you, baby.”

God—the pet name—she did not see that coming.

It doesn't matter because deep down, she likes it and you can see it in her eyes—her eyes don't lie.

“But please—”

You stop peppering her as she whines almost inaudibly onto your ear, Gaeul feeling the soft flesh detach onto her neck. At this moment, she’s nigh-insatiable as you couldn’t contain anything that you’ve been unshackling since the day you met her. This escalated quickly but you didn’t care anymore—you just want her and her only and that is what matters.

“What do you exactly want from me, hm? Enlighten me, Kim Gaeul…”

You smirk as you mock her, making her squirm quietly as she can’t help but feel the absolute delight of her whole life because of you. The sudden foreplay is working, you can’t just be damned to do that forever as your animalistic urges take over you yet still control it as you don’t want to get harsh on Gaeul.

A sudden ring on her phone distracts you but her hands directed your chin, making you look at only her and nothing else.

“Eyes here, Seol-ie—please—”

“Don’t you want to answer that? That’s probably important, no? Or I’ll just go and check it—”

“No!” Gaeul yelps as she grabs your wrists, pleading and insisting you to not further check it because it’s nothing important. She then grabs her phone and puts it on “silent” so the both of you won’t be further distracted.

“It’s just one of my friends calling. I’ll call them later whenever we’re done—so, please, just—”

You inch closer and closer to her again, until your faces are just a hand’s width away from each other.

“Tell me, Gaeul—what do you exactly want?”

“Y-you—to feel you, Seol-ie.”

You course a hand onto the waist then onto her hips, caressing it slowly as she moans because of your sudden actions.

“Be exact, Gaeul. Enlighten me more and let it all out. After all—” you inch your lips near her ear, the hot breath tingles her as you whisper, “—it’s just the both of us here.”

You now face her with a smirk that further lures her into her own profanities. You know where this is going but you wait for her to be addressed first before yours because she’s all that matters today.

“I w-want y-you to—f-fuck me, Seol-ie… I want t-to experience that—I want y-your cock to—gahh-ahh!”

You brush your fingers slowly onto the clothed crotch, making her squirm and her legs tremble in delight. She’s getting bolder and daring as she addresses her lustful profanities to you, and it’s only a matter of time for those earlier wishes to be fulfilled.

“Tell me more, Gaeul. More of it—”

And there she goes, succumbing to the sea of lust and letting everything out.

“W-want your cock to plunge d-deep into my tight, little p-pussy—gahh—a-and f-fuck me hard and f-fast—ga-ahh!”

She can’t articulately think of words to describe what she needs as you quicken up the pace of your teasing onto her clothed crotch. You can feel the inevitable wetness being released from her reservoir as the teasing and the overgoing feeling of serotonin making her brain go haywire.

“Tell me more, Gaeul—you’re almost there.”

“W-ant y-you to fuck m-me fast and h-hard until I s-scream in p-pleasure and c-cum all over yo-your cock—g-ahh—and I—fuck!”

“That’s enough, baby.” you stop teasing her as she falls onto the couch, comfortable and relaxed yet uneasy as her thighs are still quivering because of the sudden cause of pleasure.

“I think we should go to my bedroom, Gaeul and do what you want with me…”

Her mouth shivers as she stutters because she can’t help but still feel the aftermath of the things you’ve caused her—you swear to god she almost came all just from that teasing and that’s why she’s struggling but deep inside, you know she loved it.

You still keep asking her if she’s really up for this but she’s really pushing for this and is no stranger to anything like this as she wants to fulfill her fantasies with you.

This is gonna be one hell of a night…

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

“God—I knew she would do this! How am I so stupid!” The girl shouts furiously, frustrated at herself as she’s not having the time of her life because another missed call from possibly hundreds of failed calls from her friend.

She half-expected this to happen but she’s just paranoid to think about anything related to vice in her vocabulary but she can’t do anything, yet…

“We’ll have a bad time tomorrow, Gaeul…”

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

“Seol-ie, please—w-want to feel you…”

“Baby, you gotta be patient—I don’t want to hop onto the climax immediately.”

She keeps kissing you fervently, tongues battling around each other as you pull out again from her vacuum, wanting to teach her something and let her know something.

“I a-also wanted to try something that you'll surely like too…”

“What is it, Seol-ie?”

You sat down onto the bed, spreading your legs wide as you stole a gaze to her, smirking at the thought of what you’re about to enlighten her.

“Have you imagined sucking a dick, Gaeul? Like, I assume you already know what that means—”

“Y-yes, Seol-ie. I’ve always wanted to try that for real and not always in a dildo.”

What a girl Gaeul is, truly. Outside, she is an angel, a pure-hearted girl with everything on her—the nigh-epitome of perfection—yet it’s all like in a disguise.

The angel in disguise and the devil in her eyes.

You never expected her to be this kinky and dirty, yet you didn’t care about that as you wanted her as much as she wanted you—and again, that’s all that matters. Kneeling down with her face just inches between your clothed erection, her eyes burn with lust as her tongue licks the caldera of her mouth, preparing on what she’s about to take and you, yourself, preparing what sin’s about to happen.

“Please do the honors, baby…”

She tugs the side of your hips, unbuckling your belt hurriedly and unzipping your pants. Her hands are trembling slightly but you assure her with a pat on the head. It definitely works as she feels way more confident than before, now dropping the first layer of your clothed defenses against your crotch. Her eyes lit up in awe as she saw how hard you became and it made her blush knowing that it’s her cause. Now taking a deep breath, she yanks down your boxers as she was met with your rock-hard erection, standing tall and dripping with a little bit of that colorless liquid. She massages your balls gently and stroked the base of your shaft, earning a subtle moan from you because of her good handwork.

“God, baby—that’s good—do I need to teach you or you’ll do it all yourself?”

She keeps her moderate pace between her strokes as she looks you directly in the eyes, “Let m-me do everything, Seol-ie—just relax yourself…”

And there she goes, diving in and plunging her lips onto the tip of your shaft in which, in response, you squirm uncontrollably as her warm mouth meets the raging mushroom tip as her tongue circles around the slit, collecting the pre-cum that has been leaking out. She moans in delight as she finally tastes you—one step until she obtains your primordial seed.

She dances her tongue onto your frenulum and up to the corona of the tip as you squeal because of the sudden hit of pleasure. She just insists on sucking the tip just to give you a tease on what she can do and surprisingly for a first-timer, she’s not doing bad—maybe just the serrated culprit making the pain a little bit unbearable but nonetheless, she’s doing a magnificent job.

“God—what a good girl y-you are—you really are a good girl, Gaeul. Fuck! Keep d-doing that…”

And she didn’t stop pleasuring you, stealing glances and making eye contact too from time to time as her adorable face contradicts the act of sin she’s dealing with between your legs—you don’t why, but it’s so fucking hot.

Now engulfing more inches of your shaft, she starts to gag a little bit because of your girth activating her reflex but she didn’t quit and further bobbed her head with a pace that’s moderately pleasurable. Her tongue working in tandem with her mouth to increase your libido is the breaking point and the dexterity of her hands fondling your balls gently is just crossing a line, in a pleasurably good way. She now takes almost full of your shaft, her pace immediately quickening as you moan uncontrollably, another symphony being composed as you grip her hair, making a makeshift ponytail to fight the excessive pleasure coursing down your veins.

When she looks up, she looks ruined as her make-up is now a mess, tears running down her cheek and the saliva seeping out of her mouth in every thrust she does with face onto your raging length.

She’s way too great to be an amateur or is it just the fact that your head is ultimately clouded with pleasure that you can’t think straight to judge her skills—but it doesn’t matter as long as you’re getting the pleasure you’ve been wanting to experience for a long time and Gaeul having a good time sucking your dick—that’s all that matters.

“S-stop—Gaeul…”

She still continues to bob her head down frantically, your brain now feeling the familiar knot in your loins which signals the near denouement of the play—the dam breaking loose, signaling your release.

“I said stop, Gaeul!”

She pulls out of your shaft, strands of saliva connected down her mouth and onto your slit as her eyes convey fear. Her puppy-like, brown eyes went uneasy and the furrowing of her eyebrows lets you know how scared she became once you furiously shouted that.

“I-is there a-anything wrong, Seol-ie?” Still catching her breath from the lack of oxygen, she asks you with a tone that distinguishes fright.

“N-no, Gaeul—I j-just want to fuck your pussy now. You d-did a brilliant job sucking m-me off. I’ll feel that until later…”

A sigh of relief escapes her lips knowing that you’re not disappointed or frustrated with her performance but rather enjoyed it.

Now getting up from her previous position, you guide her towards the bed as you completely undress yourself. She strips her clothes slowly, as you watch in amusement, your dick still twitching in need as her full body is on display—petite breasts, small waist, plump butt, mouth-watering thighs and to top it all off, her dripping, wet holes.

“Sorry if it’s not too—”

“Oh come on, Gaeul—it’s perfect just the way it is.”

You then pin her slowly on the bed, kissing lips passionately as she smiles because of your compliments. You then pepper her collarbones with kisses, causing her to moan in need as she’s asking you something that will rile you up for sure.

“How would you w-want to fuck me, Seol-ie, hm?”

A daring question but you’ll immediately answer—

“I’d like to take you from behind, baby. Wanna see this plump ass get pummeled and your holes get wet with my dick.”

“I’d love to be the guest of t-that—hihi~”

She now positions herself in all fours, her arms supporting her body and her face being buried against the mattress. You can see the wetness on her core and it’s oh-so mouth-watering to be feasted on—as much as you want to eat her pussy up, you don’t want to waste time as you want to fuck her and feel her heat.

You brush your fingers against her wet folds, earning a squirm from the petite lady on all fours. You tease your leaking slit onto her labia which causes her to beg for more and moan sexily, her lewd tone ringing around your ear.

“P-please, j-just put it in to me—just w-want to feel your—oh, fuck!”

Surprising her, you insert your tip onto the entrance of her heated core as you groan on how tight it is—much tighter than what you expect. After all, it was an unclaimed pussy so you weren’t surprised either.

“Gosh—so fucking tight, Gaeul! So, so, fucking tight—arghh, I’m pounding you real good…”

“Please d-do—ahh, you’re stretching me out!”

“It’s just my tip inside you, yet. Wait until you feel it all—the real one…”

And you unleash the beast inside you by bringing in a moderate pace, fucking her with a force that’s not too hard yet not too lacking either. It’s a great pace for and you and her to get used to each other as you gently fuck her—just withdrawing with the tip inside and then slamming back in, balls-deep into her tight, little cunt.

Within a minute of intimate, moderate sex, exchange of lustful moans adding up to the sea caused earlier and passionate kissing, you start to pummel your whole length into her harder and faster, the pace quickly building up as she can feel it to, moaning uncontrollably as her pussy constricts around your length, gripping hard because of the sudden course of pleasure. You groan in pain on how tight she is but because on how wet she is, it wasn’t an issue to fuck her like an animal.

With your whole shaft going inside her in every thrust you make, you inevitably moan in delight as the serotonin you’re feeling is insane and it just fuels you to protrude your whole length into her without letting her catch a breath. You grip her hips and fuck her relentlessly, your aim is to make her feel good and make her feel the best sex of her whole life as every clash of your bodies makes a dissonance to the symphony of moans the both of you are composing—the oxymoron (contradiction) probably making things spicier and better.

“God—S-Seol-ie! You’re fu—mmph!”

“I want to hear you, Gaeul.”

After burying her head onto the mattress because of how she’s feeling so good, you gained the courage to support herself on getting up so you can hear her profanities once more.

“You’re f-fucking m-me too well—ahh—gosh, you’re treating me l-like a toy and I—gahh—love i-it! Please p-pound my cunt!”

“Don’t w-worry, Gaeul—I’ll give you the best sex session of your whole life and you won’t forget this day until the end of times. God—you’re pussy is so fucking tight and I l-love it. So fucking tight—so fucking ruinable…”

Bringing in pandemonium of thrust, the harmonious moans that once filled the air is now a dissonant maelstrom of groans and of course, moans, as you fuck her like an animal—your animalistic urges taking over you and winning. On how much she’s messing the sheets because of her cunt dripping like a broken faucet, you know that she’s about to cum, her first of the night and want to make it one hell of a first orgasm. So, with all the energy your hips can give, you grip the side of her hips and fucked her until her legs almost give out, giving everything you got as announces her near high, resulting you to quicken the pace up and fucking her harder.

“I’m gonna c-cum, Seol-ie! All over your c-cock—fuck, fuck—I’m cumming!!”

And you slow down and let her ride her high as her pussy constricts around your cock, almost suffocating it as she came harder than you expected, her body quivering as she moans (almost screams) in absolute state of bliss.

You swear to god, you’re going to be cleaning your bed after the both of you are done.

The both of you were a mess yet you wanna add up more than just a mess as you slowly pick up the pace of your hammering thrusts, earning a silent cry from the blonde-haired girl.

“P-please, Seol-ie—please f-fuck me harder—gahh!”

“Aren’t you still sensitive, baby?”

Concern filled your tone as you wanted to give her some breathing space but it seems like she doesn’t care about your frantic actions on using her pussy at your will.

“J-just please—fuck me hard and f-fast again, please!”

If she insists, who are you to resist?

It wasn’t even out of the choice, not when your tip is still in her, bringing in a leisurely slow pace as she cries and begs for you to hammer her pussy again. You wanted to chase your own orgasm too so you’re in the same boat with her right now and course, you’ll be the one who’ll do the fucking…

What in the world did you make Gaeul be so cock-drunken? What spell did you cast on her to make her impure?

Those were the questions not even science can answer in the right time, only you can but probably, you’ll never will. Increasing the pace immediately, you pound her like it’s your last but unlike the last time, you now lean onto the nape of her neck, resting your head onto it as you pepper her with kisses that add up the intensity and the passion that has been ignited since the start. It’s like gasoline being thrown to the flames of lust and need as you are definitely fulfilling her needs and there’s just one more step towards the apotheosis of this session.

Suckling onto the porcelain skin of her shoulders while you fuck her, it’s really a sigh to behold and a feeling you can’t help to be involved, truly. You weren’t far off reaching your intense climax as you can feel her core pulsating around your raging length, also signaling her near orgasm too.

“God—I’m fucking close, Gaeul. Where do you want it—”

“Inside me, please.”

“But are you—”

“Please, Wooseol! Let’s cum together.”

The silent mewl of desperation lingers around your ears as she cries in need, in need of your seed being deposited inside her, filling her up to the hilt—right towards her womb. Wanting to savor the last moments before the end of the climax, you pull out of her immediately and commanded her to face you as she does, inserting your length with no time to waste as you look deep in her eyes—those eyes that captivated you, lured you into wanting her, loving her, fucking her—those beatiful, brown eyes—

It felt surreal and your thoughts were just head-empty full of her as you kiss her lips as soon as you feel it breaking loose—and there it is—

You kiss her passionately as you unload everything inside her cunt as the love between the both of you surpass the heavens above and everything—every thick spurt makes her moan in need as her thighs quiver in response, also marking her second orgasm of the session. You didn’t stop kissing her as it became more heated but as soon as your orgasm died, you pulled out of her snug core slowly and so is detaching of your lips onto hers. The both of you exchanged smiles and laughs, both in your own euphoric trance and in the paramount of happiness. Once you pull out, you can see how much you’ve come inside her and creampied her well. She thanked you for that yet the worry settled in knowing that you came inside her and scared if she’s going to be—

“Pregnant? Oh c-come on, Seol-ie—I’m perfectly safe today, that's why I want to feel your seed inside me. Gosh—it feels so warm and thick—ahh, thank you.” Gaeul hugs you and kisses your cheek as a big thank you on fulfilling to live on earlier fantasies now turned into reality. You shared another kiss with her and this time, it’s just slow and delicate, full of love and passion.

“This feels enchanting, Seol-ie. I never felt this good in my life—woah… Oh my~”

“And I’m happy to make you feel that way, Gaeul.”

Another kiss on the forehead for further assurance as all she needs to giggle silently again.

“Gosh—I t-think we should clean up, together, Seol-ie…”

“If you insist, I’ll help you out—I need to clean up myself too.”

And yes, this night will go down to your own history books and hers too—

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

It doesn’t just get better than this—opting to clean up in the shower and end up having another intimate session is probably the best way to end this remarkable day. It was going all to well until you saw a notification on her phone while she was away—

“Y-Yujin?”

#ive smut #gaeul #gaeul x male reader #gaeul smut #gaeul fluff #gaeul angst

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