#<- since option act 3 content. kind of?

[meamiki]

imagine if isa's confession kept getting interrupted in increasingly bizarre ways…. ASFASDASF

((this stems from a stream silly!! with my friends!! we are streaming now!! its the finale!! info rbed in a lil bit!! yeah thats it!!))

[mercy-burning]

…I Wonder

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!

———

ACT I: If I Had A Baby...

The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.

It was a start. A shot in the dark.

By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.

He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.

I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.

What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.

The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.

"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."

Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.

I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.

It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?

Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.

He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."

Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?

So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.

Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.

It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.

At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.

I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...

That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.

And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?

I hated even thinking about it.

And then there was the first paycheck.

Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.

Payment completely slipped my mind.

And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."

Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."

He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.

At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.

I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."

"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."

I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.

He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.

ACT II: If I Was A Lady...

The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.

Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.

It was a day, and night, I would never forget.

Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.

"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.

"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.

"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"

He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."

"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."

"Mmmm."

I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.

Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...

In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.

I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.

He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.

The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.

His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.

It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.

That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.

He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.

"We can't ever do that again."

"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.

"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."

"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.

"You should go home."

"Okay."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Thank you."

I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.

After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.

I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.

I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.

Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.

I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?

He texted back almost immediately; All is well.

It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.

Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.

I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.

Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."

There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."

"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."

"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."

"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."

"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."

Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.

I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.

"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.

I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."

"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.

I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night."

I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.

Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.

"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.

"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."

I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.

Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.

Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.

"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."

He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.

But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.

"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"

His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"

We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.

Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.

"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.

"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.

"Of course," I agreed.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"

"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.

"It really does! Do you want to come see?"

"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."

Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."

"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."

He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?

He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?

Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."

"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."

I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.

His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.

He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?

It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"

Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."

I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.

I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."

And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.

ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.

I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.

I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.

It scared me, but also deeply excited me.

Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.

Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Happy Birthday!"

He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.

"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"

"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.

As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).

"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.

So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."

I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"

The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"

"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."

As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."

The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...

To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.

I decided to spare him the wait.

"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."

"Really? No eggshells?"

I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."

Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.

Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.

He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.

I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.

"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"

He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."

"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."

I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.

"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"

"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."

"I love you, Auntie Y/N."

I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."

ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.

The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.

Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.

Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.

His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.

"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"

"My birthday was yesterday..."

He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.

"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."

I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.

"You're not my dad."

Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."

The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.

"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."

The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.

I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."

"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."

"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.

"Well?"

"I want to be yours."

He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."

And then he kissed me.

He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.

I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.

"God, I love the sounds you make..."

His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.

I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.

Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.

I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.

Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.

I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...

With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.

Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"

Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."

"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."

A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.

"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.

His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.

Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.

I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.

Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.

I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.

"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.

"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."

My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.

"Please."

The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow me."

And I did. I always would.

As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.

Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.

He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"

"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.

"You're not complaining are you?"

"God, no."

"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.

Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.

"Is this okay?"

I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."

Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.

No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.

Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.

His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.

"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"

My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."

"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.

Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.

"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."

All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.

He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...

"Never better," I responded earnestly.

"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"

"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.

"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."

I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."

"As you wish."

The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.

Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"

Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."

I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.

"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.

I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."

I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.

His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.

Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.

And he was making me come. Hard.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.

"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."

Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.

His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.

Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.

I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.

Oh, my God...

I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.

His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.

"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."

I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.

Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.

The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."

"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."

It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."

Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.

It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.

His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.

"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.

Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."

I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.

I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.

CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.

Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.

It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.

I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.

I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.

"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.

They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.

"Will you be my mom?"

Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.

Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.

Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.

"Yes."

THE END.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[iscdisc]

This is a 2012 take I've had for a while now, and I'm so happy I made art about it today because I genuinely love talking about it !! 🗣️

This isn't meant to be 2012 Leo slander whatsoever, because I adore him and don't think he's terrible or anything (He's literally my favorite pick for the 2012 Turtles-) ! But I do feel that he admittedly had a lot of poor leadership moments at times (Especially in late Season 3 to Season 4- 💀), and I feel like a lot of the burden of having things accessible / ready / or even remotely feasible in order to have Leo's plans actually work out fell on Donnie. Without much appreciation or acknowledgment of that fact from Leo or anyone else for that matter.

I feel like if any of the brothers had a right to argue with Leo about leadership or how things were being run under him, it should have been Donnie, because Donnie had more than enough of a leg to stand on for that argument. I'm not trying to invalidate Raph's feelings or perspective, because I'm not saying I don't understand the angle of him being upset about Leo's blatant favoritism when it came to their Father and that being a big reason why he was so obstinate with Leo- But that aside, I don't feel like he had much of an argument to make when it came to presenting himself as a better option as far as leadership-?? I get retconning canon and that this could've just been the writers depicting Raph in a way that some of you may disagree with, but if we're basing this opinion on the Season 1 episode, "New Girl In Town", we can clearly see that he wasn't very well equipped to fill that role in the way that Leo was. And speaking of that particular episode, it was actually Donnie who stepped up when things were getting really bad with Snakeweed in the sewers- 👀

This is why I depict Raph in this scenario accepting this outcome and not being super defensive or acting like he should be included in the conversation, because I kind of have him admit that he wasn't the best at it-!

I'm also sorry, because there was so much more I wanted to draw, and instead of being able to show those things I'm just going to say them here-! For example, Splinter's involvement in the situation. I pretty much don't have him do anything about the unanimous vote, because in his eyes, this team's dynamic / structure is this team's business and he doesn't really have a place to say whether or not they change who leads the team. Sure he chose Leo in the beginning, but if they decide to come to a different decision, they're fully in the right to do that. So Leo couldn't exactly get Splinter to come to his defense,, 👍 || I also wanted to show more of Donnie and Leo both being pretty content with this new dynamic change after a while ! I somewhat got to explore that with the last image of Leo being able to fully explore his hobby / interest in astronomy, but I also wanted to show Donnie feeling very fulfilled and respected within this group of siblings and friends now that he is the team leader, with that being really satisfying for him ! || I also wanted to show Donnie having his first leader breakdown post the Kraang Invasion of Season 2, with Leo comforting him at the Farmhouse and expressing empathy having been in his position many many times before,, He just never really told his brothers about it because he didn't want them to worry and he honestly felt ashamed for breaking down so much,, <:/

Also, you know I can't resist putting 2012 Jonatello in everything I make, so of course this is going to have Jonatello moments too ! I just didn't get around to it yet- One of those things was going to be Casey becoming the second mechanic in the group in order to take off some of the work load on Donnie since now he's juggling even more than he used to-! The way Casey expresses not only concern but so much support for Donnie gives Donnie butterflies, okay- 👀💜🖤✨ Lmao

I guess the last thing I'll mention is kind of April's role and everything, since I want her to join Mikey in encouraging Leo to really explore himself as an individual now that he doesn't have to be defined by the leadership role anymore ! She's very supportive of him just being able to be himself and figure that out during this time ! But I also wanted her to better explain to Leo why she also agreed with this leadership change, since I can see him feeling a little betrayed by her. With Leo most likely assuming that she would have tried to reason with Donnie or get him to see a different side of the situation. I wanted to be very clear that she did not agree with Donnie because she felt bad for him or because of the weird crush he had on her and she didn't know how to be honest with him, etc. etc., you know what I mean? 👍✨

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[drunkinyourbenz]

DIE FOR YOU

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 watch the world from the sidelines, had nothing to prove, till you came into my life, gave me something to lose. — sidelines ; phoebe bridgers

୨ৎ bodyguard!billie eilish x princess!reader

୨ৎ summary: you were the crown princess of your kingdom, raised to be elegant, poised, flawless, and a perfect balance of kind and calculating. your whole life was planned out for you, it had been since you were born. there had never been any other option, you were the future ruler of your kingdom, and you were expected to act like it. but sometimes, things happen that you can’t control—and before you know it, you’re faced with a choice that may result in betraying your family, your kingdom, and your people.

୨ৎ content: listed per chapter. smut, fluff, and angst.

୨ৎ warnings: this series includes: period typical homophobia, smut, family issues, angst (anything heavy will be labelled for each chapter), arguments, forebidden love

୨ৎ note: hi my babiesss <3 here's a little series i've been working on for youuu... hope u like her cause she's my baby fr.

00. moodboards

00. intro & playlist

01. chapter one

02. chapter two

03. chapter three

04. chapter four

05. chapter five

06. chapter six

and so on...

୨ৎ taglist: (comment on this post or any of the chapters to be added or removed!)

@47lake @st0nerlesb0 @n0vabug @darkside-0f-the-sun @asterisk-eyes @amara-eilish @dragoneyelashart @greenbttrflyy @bilswifee @tan1shere @asothinking @ilovealiceosemann @chrissv4mp @lovelyy-moonlight @cantlandonmyfeet @jayjaywetforbils @karaaeilish @billiesbabygirll @g0ldwingedwildfl0w3r @eloiseluvsbillie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @hkkuugu @ash198458 @youmademefeel @jennaswifey

[darlingpoppet]

✨Doujinshi Shop Open!✨

Hello all! I have set up a storefront to handle international orders outside of Japan for Closest To My Heart/だれよりも心を許している男, the pza/patrochilles doujinshi I released at the Japanese Hades fan event, Chthonios Epic 3. (And for the Eruri heads out there, I also have the last few copies of my first doujinshi listed as well!)

If you live outside of Japan and you’re interested in buying a copy of my book(s), please visit ninnananna.bigcartel.com!

Basic book details:

Price: ¥1300 JPY (about $8USD) (+ shipping)

A5 size

110 pages

English and Japanese versions both included in one volume

A limited number of copies will also include a FREE postcard extra, featuring a text-free version of the cover art. Please select Book + Postcard in the Book Options menu.

Some Important Things Of Note!

This doujinshi is a bilingual physical edition of my fanfic, Closest To My Heart, which I originally posted in English on AO3. The new Japanese translation of the fic is currently exclusive to this book.

The cover is drawn by the amazing and talented artist RIPTIDE, who also drew an 8-page comic based on a particular scene in the story. The original English version of the comic, as well as a newly created Japanese version are also included in the book.

This doujinshi is R-18 (Adult Only), so please confirm the nature of the contents before you buy. If you are an adult with a pixiv account, you can look at a collection of sample pages here. Please also feel free to read the original version of the story and comic in their entirety on AO3, which is also where I have relevant tags and content warnings written in more detail. But to summarize here: the story has a few brief references to acts of rape/non-con, as well as references to & depictions of emotional and physical abuse, rough sex acts, and dubious consent. This is a darker, more dramatic, alternate canon retelling of the Patrochilles quest from Hades, in which everyone involved (Achilles, Zagreus, & Patroclus) feel emotionally conflicted with one another, as well as the situation they get caught up in. “Toxic love triangle” is the story summary in a nutshell!

Currently, I am able to ship to countries where the Japan Post has Registered Airmail service available. Luckily, this applies to most countries! However, a big exception right now are: EU countries and Northern Ireland. Since apparently new GPSR requirements went into effect, I am looking into whether or not it is feasible for an individual like myself to comply when shipping to these countries.

For anyone living in the EU or Northern Ireland, the only possible workaround I can offer currently is this: proxy service via the listing on Pixiv Booth. Here is the Booth listing: https://darlingpoppet.booth.pm

Booth normally has a built-in proxy service through Buyee available for overseas customers. However, apparently this service is not extended to listings marked as Adult/R-18. However, it’s my understanding that there are other proxy service companies out there who are more lax about purchasing NSFW products on your behalf. I can’t personally vouch of any of them, but some names recommended to me as being Special Yaoi Book-friendly include Tenso, AOCS (both of whom I believe have official ties with the doujinshi retailer Toranoana), ZenMarket, and Neokyo. (ETA: I have since been able to confirm that this option has worked for an EU customer, so please try it!)

Finally, if you are someone who lives in Japan, please use the Booth listing!! Shipping is a flat 370 yen via Anshin Booth Pack, so the transaction is done completely anonymously.

Thank you everyone for your kind support! ♡ I had a lot of fun putting this book together so I hope you’ll enjoy it too.

[forsaken-fates]

' 'This is your home now. Forever forsaken by it all.' '

>[It's been a few days since the disappearance of the previous survivors, and it's been awfully quiet. No more hushed conversations of a person and himself, no more chattering and laughing near the fireplace, no more constant flicking of a coin, nothing. The people who remain in the cabin are all worried, holding onto a false hope that they'll somehow come back, that the round was just taking a bit longer, but it was obvious that they wouldn't. They were gone, and they had to accept that.]

>[Those survivors who had spent restless hours protecting themselves and their team, running around in order to escape the killer, had all been consumed by their own hatred and rage. It seemed as though they had been driven into madness, taking lives of others in the process of doing so, seeking revenge at releasing all the pent up anger that had been kept inside them for so long. Petty rivals became enemies, and friendships crumbled down from the lack of trust.]

>[Hope isn't all lost, though. Despite the rumors spread within the people present at the cabin, they are still well and alive. Although suffering from their demises, they continue on living. The places they stay aren't too uncomfortable, either. As a matter of fact, they feel almost like... home. Be it a bit more uncanny and isolated.]

>[Communication is a limited thing for them, with the majority being forced into a solitary version of their greatest memory. But it is not as difficult as one may think. If one wishes to send a message, or communicate with these said characters, they must write a letter. This said letter must have the name of the person you wish to send it too, otherwise it will be sent to a random person - or maybe even all of them, if you're lucky enough. Although you may feel free to break through the TV and talk to them in person, that's always an option.]

>[Now, what are you waiting for? You want to send a message, don't you? Here, pick up a pen and paper of your choice and write it. Don't be shy. I'm sure they'd be pleased to hear from you.]

OOC NOTES UNDER THE CUT

-[Welcome to Forsakened Fates, an AU that explores an idea of the survivors from the Roblox game Forsaken turning into killers. The in-depth of storyline of this blog is yet to be revealed, as there are a few more gaps in my writing. But, enough of that. For now, let's put down some ground rules.]-

RULES:

1. This is an ongoing AU that is still being written by a sleep deprived high schooler that is solely being driven by insufficient caffeine and pirated music, so please be patient in case your ask isn't immediately answered. (If your ask is taking really long to answer, it probably just means there's a frame being worked on for the post. Please be patient if that's the case)

2. Obvious DNI criteria (creeps, racists, xeno/homophobes, etc.)

3. Please avoid sending controversial asks. This blog was made for fun and I'd like to avoid those kinds of topics in my blog.

4. Keep things SFW and don't get too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 in my inbox please. Suggestive and combat is okay but avoid getting into too much detail.

5. Anon magic, OCs, crossovers, and the like are all welcome! I love seeing what everyone's creativity made.

6. Characters in this blog are heavily headcanon and AU driven, so if a character ever acts off, feel free to ask about it! (Not guaranteed you'll get a straight answer)

7. I have no affiliations with souldrivenlove, nor any of the devs. This was made merely by my own with self interest.

8. This blog may involve some triggering topics such as murder, blood, body horror, suggestive themes, obsession, codependency, etc. Those said posts will be tagged accordingly + will have a "Keep Reading" cut or will be given a content label.

GENERAL INFORMATION:

- There will be active and inactive characters. Active means that you are able to interact with the character as you please, as long as they follow the rules above. Inactive, on the other hand, means that the character is unavailable, and a special action must be performed in order to unlock said character. Active characters are as follows (those unlisted are inactive): Guest 1337 👊 Chance 🕶️ Elliot 🍕 Shedletsky 🍗💚 >[FileName:"Builderman"not found.]⛑️ 007n7🍔 c00lkidd🔥 Two Time🪽

- Again, responses may be somewhat slow. I plan on using Roblox Studio and/or Catalog Avatar Creator for the responses, and I'm still learning in using them, so please be patient.

- Some characters may be OOC or not act like how they normally would. I would like to apologize if I get them HEAVILY incorrect, but most of their attitudes may be because of the lore written for them.

TAGS:

best.served.hot🍕 - Elliot

gamble.with.our.time🕶️ - Chance

rtotwitpyisfoth?🍗 - Shedletsky

am.i.a.robot.or.a.doll?⛑️ - Builderman

always.be.strong👊 - Guest

its.harder.when.u.have.2.love.urself🍔 - 007n7

team.c00lkidd.join.2day!🔥 - c00lkidd

whose.heart.could.i.break.today?🪽 - Two Time

anonymous.letters✉️ - Anonymous asks

signed.letters✉️ - User asks

finally.something.happened🔪 - Rp start

still.praying.hopeless.and.in.vain🔪 - Rp end

ill.be.waiting.so.impatiently🔓 - Character unlocked

whats.that.puppet.boy?📷 - OOC posts

did.you.not.read.the.company.policy?📹 - Lore

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

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[yunholic-jongholic]

Dreambound Seduction [Part 8] | OT8 Ateez x Succubus!Reader

SUMMARY | You were sent to Earth with a mission—to observe and ensnare eight men, all untouched and inexperienced. Your task was to infiltrate their dreams, seduce them, and make them yours. Though this was your first time carrying out such a mission, failure wasn’t an option. You had to ensure they craved you, surrendering themselves unknowingly, so you could feed off their energy and sustain your own existence.

PAIRINGS | OT8 Virgin!Ateez x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | NSFW, Smut, Explicit Content, Hell Setting, Sex-Dreaming, Somnophilia, Marking, Mentions of Blood, Unprotected Sex (Don't do it.), Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, (We might forgot some.)

WORD COUNT | 5.0k

AUTHORS NOTE | Eighth chapter. JONGHO FOCUSED!!! We are coming to an end with 2 more chapters left :3 (there is 10 chapters total.)

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple @atinyzen117 @nkryuki

•

Jongho stared at his phone, jaw tight, thumb hovering over the latest message.

"She's not like the others. She's not just playing with you. She's feeding."

He sighed.

Another buzz.

"You think you're safe because you're careful. Because you're strong. You're not. None of us are." "She's coming for you, Jongho. I don’t know how to stop her. Just… don't let her in."

Jongho rolled his eyes and locked the screen.

“Drama queen,” he muttered, tossing the phone onto his bed before pulling on his jacket. He was already running late for his morning class, and Wooyoung had been acting off since last week anyway—distracted, twitchy, weirdly intense.

This felt like just another one of his theatrics.

Still… Jongho paused in front of the mirror, raking a hand through his hair. He frowned at his reflection. There was a knot in his stomach that hadn’t been there before. Something subtle. Not fear, exactly—Jongho didn’t do fear.

But… awareness.

Like something just out of view was watching. Waiting.

He shook it off.

“I’m not playing your game, Woo,” he muttered under his breath. “Whatever this is.”

He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and opened the door.

And froze.

Because standing halfway down the hall, framed by the morning light, was you.

Beautiful. Unbothered. Effortless.

Exactly the kind of trouble Wooyoung would warn him about.

You looked up and met his eyes.

And smiled.

Not sweet.

Intentional.

Jongho’s brows furrowed slightly. His phone buzzed again in his room.

He didn’t need to look at it to know what it said.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Jongho stood in the doorway, eyeing you with the kind of quiet calculation you’d grown used to seeing in older creatures. Cautious. Controlled. His posture was straight, backpack slung over one shoulder, lips set in a line like he already didn’t have time for this.

But his eyes?

They were on you.

Steady. Sharp.

Not like Wooyoung’s had been—hungry and reckless.

Jongho’s gaze was thoughtful. Wary.

Exactly the kind that made you smile.

“Morning,” you said, voice soft but unmistakably intentional.

Jongho glanced over his shoulder, like he wasn’t sure you were talking to him. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” You took a slow step closer, hands tucked neatly into your coat pockets, your presence folding into the space like you belonged there. “But I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. “Yeah?”

Another step.

“Yeah.”

You stopped a few feet from him. Not too close. Just enough for him to feel it. That little hum beneath the skin. That quiet pull. That pressure that always built before something gave way.

Jongho didn’t flinch.

He didn’t move back, either.

“I’ve heard about you,” you continued. “You’re the one who keeps everyone grounded. The one who never cracks.”

“I crack,” he said simply. “Just not easily.”

Gods, that tone. Flat. Honest. Unshaken.

Delicious.

Your smile widened. “Good. I like a challenge.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what this is?”

“A hello,” you said innocently.

He gave you a slow, measured look. “You don’t say hello like most people.”

You chuckled, low and soft. “I’m not most people.”

Jongho’s phone buzzed again in the room behind him. He didn’t glance back this time. Just watched you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Finally, he said, “I think you’re looking for someone else.”

“No,” you said, your voice velvet over ice. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

He didn’t reply. But you saw it—the flicker in his eyes. Not fear. Not yet.

But curiosity.

And that was always the first crack.

You tilted your head, eyes never leaving his. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Jongho replied evenly. “I just don’t like being cornered.”

Your smile curled, sly and knowing. “This hallway’s wide open, Jongho.”

He blinked once. No surprise at the use of his name. But he didn't like it, either.

“You don’t know me,” he said.

“Not yet,” you replied smoothly. “But I’m good at figuring people out.”

He shifted slightly, weight balanced on both feet, gaze hardening just enough to feel like a warning. “You think that makes you special?”

“I think it makes me dangerous.”

There it was.

That flicker of something in his eyes. A tiny break in the glass.

You took one more step forward—close enough now that he could feel your energy licking at the edges of his own. Not overt. Just a whisper.

He didn’t move.

But he looked at you differently now.

Not like someone passing by.

Like someone he needed to watch.

Perfect.

You glanced down at his hand—still curled casually around the strap of his backpack—and then met his eyes again. “You don’t scare easy.”

“No,” he said. “And I don’t fall easy either.”

You smiled—slow, deliberate. “That’s alright. I like watching people try not to.”

He exhaled softly through his nose, almost a scoff. “You’re something, aren’t you?”

You leaned in just a breath closer. Close enough for your voice to soften into something silkier. “You don’t know the half of it.”

A beat passed between you. Charged. Quiet.

Then, with that same cool calm, Jongho stepped to the side.

“I have class,” he said, brushing past you without touching.

You turned slowly to watch him walk away, your gaze burning holes into his back.

He didn’t look back.

But you knew—felt—the way his jaw was tight. The way his steps were just a little too purposeful.

The way he was already thinking about you.

Just like you planned.

You stepped back into your space—where the walls didn’t breathe unless you let them, where the dark curled like silk around your limbs and the air was thick with the scent of smoke, skin, and old magic.

You exhaled slowly.

Jongho had resisted.

Impressive.

Rare.

And now, more than ever… enticing.

He was the type who built his walls with steel and silence. The one who watched, waited, measured everything twice before letting anyone close. No cracks in the surface. No visible softness.

But you saw it.

Felt it.

The tension in his spine. The way his gaze lingered just a second too long. The part of him that wanted to reach out but didn’t trust his hands.

You didn’t need to touch him.

Not yet.

No, with Jongho, your power would be in the absence. The not-quite. The almost.

So you began to plan.

Step one: Proximity. You’d start showing up where he least expected you—but never too close. Never enough to make it obvious. Just enough to be felt. A glance from across a study hall. A shadow in the corner of a hallway. Maybe a whisper he couldn’t quite place behind him in the library. Let him question himself.

Let him feel haunted.

Step two: Echoes. You’d plant small things. A song he once told someone he liked playing faintly behind him in an empty café. A book he mentioned to a friend open on a desk before he arrives. A note slipped into a textbook that just says,

"You're not as hidden as you think." In his own handwriting.

Let him feel watched. Known. Seen in ways he didn’t give permission for.

Step three: Reflection. You’d start saying things that sound too close to the truth. Phrases only he’d use. Questions he’s never asked out loud. His own voice mirrored back in yours. You wouldn’t push.

You’d suggest.

Let him start to believe you’re inside his head.

Because Jongho doesn’t fear monsters.

He fears being understood.

And you were going to become the one thing he couldn't block out.

Not with his strength.

Not with his silence.

Not with anything.

---

Two Days Later

Jongho sat in the back corner of the campus library, earbuds in, head bowed over his textbook. His fingers tapped absently against the page in time with his music—something soft, quiet. Classical, maybe. It helped him focus.

It helped him think.

He hadn’t seen you since that morning in the hallway.

And yet…

He felt you.

At first, it was just a tension in his shoulders. A strange sense of pressure in the room. Like someone was watching him from just out of sight. He glanced up more than once. Each time, there was nothing.

No one.

Just books and silence.

Then he noticed the book.

It wasn’t his.

It sat directly across from him at the edge of the table—thick, leather-bound, and older than anything the library normally carried. No barcode. No title.

He frowned, reaching out to open it.

Inside the cover, a single note was tucked.

His own handwriting stared back at him.

You’re not as hidden as you think.

He went cold.

Jongho glanced over his shoulder immediately—quick, sharp—but the library was still quiet. Still empty.

He picked up the note, running his thumb across the letters. It looked like his own scrawl. The way he wrote when he was in a rush. Same slant. Same uneven spacing.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

A message from Wooyoung.

Has she found you yet?

Jongho didn’t reply.

He folded the note and tucked it into his pocket.

His music stopped.

He blinked at his phone. Battery full. App still open. But the music was gone.

He pulled the earbuds out, confused, and that’s when he heard it:

The soft hum of a song.

From behind one of the shelves.

Faint. Barely there. But unmistakable.

The exact track he’d been listening to.

Jongho stood slowly, the hair on the back of his neck rising. His footsteps were near-silent as he moved toward the sound, weaving through the aisles.

But when he turned the corner—

Nothing.

No one.

Just a record player.

Old. Dusty. Spinning.

But unplugged.

The music stopped.

And somewhere, in the space between the beat of his heart and his breath catching in his throat—

He felt you smile.

Jongho’s jaw clenched as the last note of the record fizzled into silence.

He didn’t move for a moment.

He just stood there, staring at the unplugged player, heart pounding in his ears.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he bent down and pressed his palm flat against the wooden shelf beside it—feeling the faint warmth left behind.

Not imagined.

His other hand curled into a fist.

“This is a game to you,” he muttered under his breath. “Isn’t it?”

He stood up and turned, gaze sweeping the empty rows like you might be hiding just out of sight.

And then he said it louder—his voice steady, sharp, like a blade drawn but not yet swung.

“I know you’re here.”

Nothing.

But you were watching.

You could feel the way his voice cut through the air. Not with fear.

With conviction.

“You’re not subtle,” he said. “You think leaving clues makes you clever, but it just makes you lazy. You want me to chase you?”

He took a step forward, pacing slowly down the aisle.

“Then show yourself.”

He turned another corner.

Empty.

Books. Dust. Silence.

But the air shivered.

You liked this. His command. His strength. The heat curling under his restraint. You could feel the frustration rising in him—not panic, not confusion.

But the burn of being toyed with.

“You want me to crack?” he said, voice lowering now, sharper. “It’s not going to happen in the dark.”

He stopped at the center of the library’s long corridor, chest rising and falling just a little too fast. His eyes scanned the shelves again, every sense on edge.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he called out.

He didn’t say your name.

But his tone told you everything.

He knew.

“I’m not like the others,” he said. “You don’t get to worm your way into my mind and think I won’t fight back.”

Still, you didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But the shadows at the far end of the corridor shifted—just slightly.

He saw it.

And smiled.

“Took you long enough.”

The corridor stretched long and silent, shelves standing like sentinels around Jongho as he stood in the center—steady, unyielding, eyes locked on the place where the shadows moved.

And then—

You stepped through them.

No flicker. No whisper. No veil.

You just appeared.

Fluid. Effortless. The silence rippled around you like you’d stepped through water instead of air. You didn’t rush. You didn’t have to. You walked slowly toward him, your presence shifting the air, your power curling behind you like a storm held barely in check.

Your eyes met his.

And for the first time, he saw you fully—not just beautiful.

Otherworldly.

Jongho didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

But his breath hitched.

Just once.

“I was wondering when you’d stop hiding,” he said, voice tight, jaw set.

You tilted your head, your smile slow, electric. “I was never hiding. You just weren’t ready to see me.”

“I’m ready now.”

The words came fast. Sharp. But there was a tremble in the air between them.

You stepped closer. “Then look, Jongho.”

He did.

Gods, he did.

Every inch of you radiated control—power that shimmered beneath your skin like flame beneath glass. Your eyes glowed faintly, not in color but in presence. In that too-muchness that mortals instinctively feared even when they didn’t understand why.

You stood a breath away from him now.

He didn’t back down.

Not physically.

But you felt the tremor in his soul.

“I don’t scare easy,” he said, echoing your first meeting.

You leaned in, your voice a purr of power and promise. “No… but you break beautifully.”

He swallowed, his eyes darkening—not with fear, but defiance laced with heat. “Is that what this is about? Breaking me?”

You smiled—cruel and reverent all at once.

“No,” you whispered. “It’s about making you mine.”

And in that second, in that impossible stillness where time felt like it bent around your breath—

He didn’t move away.

He didn’t speak.

He just stared at you, caught somewhere between resisting and wanting to fall.

And now, the real game could begin.

You stood close enough now that you could feel the heat rolling off him. The kind of heat born from restraint—tight, guarded, deliberate. His fists clenched at his sides, not out of fear, but control. Discipline.

Admirable.

But futile.

You brought a hand up, slow and unthreatening, and let your fingers hover just above his chest. Not touching. Not yet. Just letting the space between you ache.

His eyes dropped to the motion. Just briefly.

And that was all it took.

You smiled.

“You’re shaking,” you whispered.

“I’m not,” he said.

But his voice was lower now. Rougher.

You leaned in, your lips grazing the air near his jaw. “You’re trying not to.”

Still, he didn’t back away. Didn’t even blink.

Gods, he was strong.

That just made you want to break him more.

You shifted slightly, letting your fingers trail—finally—down the center of his chest, your nails dragging through the fabric of his shirt like a whisper. You watched the way his breath caught, how his jaw clenched tighter.

“You like control,” you said softly, circling him now, slow like a predator testing its prey. “You like order. Strength. Walls.”

You leaned in behind him, your voice brushing the back of his neck like silk. “But I know what happens when no one’s watching. When your body wants something more than your pride does.”

He swallowed hard.

Didn’t speak.

Your fingers slid down his back now, down to the edge of his shirt, your voice barely audible now. “I don’t need to touch you to get inside, Jongho. That’s the part you don’t understand.”

You walked around him again, stepping in front of him. Your hand returned to his chest—flat now. Firm. The pulse beneath it was thunderous.

“Go ahead,” you said, gaze locked on his. “Tell me to stop.”

The silence stretched.

And stretched.

You felt the war behind his eyes.

Felt his body beg him to lean in.

Finally, he breathed—just one word, strained, hoarse, desperate:

“Don’t.”

You smiled.

And stepped even closer, your mouth nearly brushing his. “Then don’t pretend you’re not already mine.”

You kissed him—slow, claiming, intense. His resistance shattered the moment your lips touched his. His hands moved to your waist, then your back, gripping tight like he couldn’t help it. Like he was finally letting go.

You didn’t rush it.

You let him fall.

One kiss, then another.

Slower.

Deeper.

Hungrier.

He gasped when you pulled away, lips still parted, eyes dazed and full of something he couldn’t name.

And you—perfect, powerful, poised—just stared at him with that damn smile.

Because you’d already won.

He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

Your kiss still lingered on his lips—sharp and slow, carved into him like a brand. His eyes locked on yours, heavy with need, laced with confusion. Like he didn’t understand how he’d gotten here, only that he didn’t want to leave.

“Say it,” you whispered, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. “You want this.”

He didn’t nod.

Didn’t whisper it.

Jongho acted.

He grabbed you—hands firm, not rough—and pulled you against him, mouth crashing into yours with the full weight of his surrender. His body pressed you back, into the shelves, books rattling around you as his mouth moved over yours with fire and urgency.

Not hesitation.

Claim.

You moaned into it, not from surprise—but from satisfaction.

Finally.

His hands moved with reverence and precision—curling under your thighs, lifting you with ease like your weight was nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lips never parting as he carried you to the nearest table, setting you down without ever breaking contact.

Jongho kissed like someone who’d held back for too long.

Like someone who wasn’t going to stop now that he’d let go.

His mouth dragged down your neck, hot and open, his breath shaky against your skin. His teeth scraped lightly along your collarbone, and you gasped, arching into him.

“Still think I’m breaking?” he rasped against your throat.

You smiled, tugging at his shirt, baring his skin to your hands. “No,” you whispered. “Now you’re burning.”

You undressed him with slow, calculated control, and for once—he let you. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath caught when your lips dragged over his chest, and when your hand slipped lower, he groaned—broken, desperate, undeniable.

“Fuck,” he breathed, burying his face in your neck as you took control again, guiding his hips, dragging your nails along his spine, swallowing the sharp noises that spilled from his throat as he rocked against you.

You held him there—body to body, heat to heat—until he was trembling beneath your hands, your name on his lips like a confession he never meant to give.

When he finally pushed into you—deep, slow, real—he stilled.

Just for a second.

Breathing hard.

Hands gripping your thighs like you were the only thing tethering him to the ground.

And then he moved.

Slow, then faster.

More.

More.

You clung to each other like it was the only thing that made sense. Jongho, no longer careful. You, no longer patient. And when he finally spilled into you, body shuddering, voice broken against your skin, you kissed him again—slow and soft this time.

And it was yours.

The whole moment.

You didn’t vanish this time.

You stayed—his body warm against yours, his breath hot on your neck, his fingers still wrapped in the fabric of your clothes like he didn’t know how to let go.

And maybe… he didn’t want to.

Not now.

Not ever.

The silence after the climax hung heavy in the air—thick, electric. Jongho’s chest was still rising and falling against yours, his body slick with heat, his breath brushing over your collarbone.

And for a moment, it almost felt human.

Almost.

Then your eyes opened—glowing like embers in the dark.

Jongho didn’t see it at first.

Not until your nails—no longer smooth fingers, but curved, obsidian claws—sank into the skin of his back.

He hissed through his teeth, the sound feral, involuntary, as his muscles spasmed under your touch.

“You thought that was it?” you growled low, your voice no longer silk, but smoke and storm. “You thought you could hold me down and keep me?”

He gritted his teeth, hands tightening around your waist in retaliation, trying to regain control, trying to press you back down, to claim you again.

But you were done playing.

Your hand snapped up, claws pressing to his jaw, gripping his face tight enough to make him still.

Your wings appeared wrapping around both of you for him to only focus on you.

And with one brutal twist of your body, you flipped him, slamming him down against the cold floorboards with a crack, your thighs straddling him, claws digging into his shoulders.

Jongho's eyes widened, breath knocked from his lungs—but it wasn’t fear in them.

It was something worse.

Want.

Confusion.

Need.

You leaned down over him, hair spilling around his face like a shroud, your glow casting eerie shadows over his expression. “You wanted to fuck a monster?” you whispered, voice vibrating against his throat. “Then let me show you what one looks like.”

Your claws traced along his chest now—not drawing blood, not yet—but threatening it.

He bared his teeth, sweat sliding down his temple. “You’re not the only one who can fight.”

“Then fight,” you spat. “But you’ll still lose.”

You leaned in, mouth crashing to his again—hard, punishing, dragging a groan from his throat that was part pain, part pleasure. His hands reached for you again, fingers digging into your thighs, your ribs, trying to find leverage.

But there was no leverage against you now.

Not when you’d claimed every inch of him.

And now that he knew what you were—now that he’d seen you—there was no going back.

For either of you.

Jongho’s breath rasped beneath you, ragged and uneven, his chest rising with the kind of tension that didn’t come from fear.

It came from rage.

From want.

From the aching realization that he’d opened himself to something divine—and it didn’t love. It devoured.

Your claws dragged down his chest, not deep enough to cut, but enough to make him hiss, his hands gripping your hips like he could force control back into his fists.

You grinned—teeth bared, wicked and wild.

“Still think you can tame me?”

He growled beneath you, one arm snapping up to wrap around your waist, the other bracing on the floor—and with a grunt of pure effort, he lifted you, slammed you onto your back, reversing the position again with a sharp snap of muscle and heat.

But this time, he didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t ask.

He took.

His mouth was on your throat, his teeth grazing your skin—not to worship, but to mark. To challenge. His hips pinned yours down, grinding into you with bruising force, his hands gripping your wrists and slamming them above your head, holding you there.

And you—eyes still glowing, claws still twitching—laughed.

“You’re trying to own something that was never meant to be held,” you rasped, body arching into his. “What are you going to do, Jongho? Break me?”

His eyes were black with lust and fury, lips wet and parted as he leaned down, his voice a dark snarl against your mouth.

“No. I’m going to match you.”

And then he was inside you again.

No build-up this time.

Just raw, violent connection—his body moving over yours with a rhythm fueled by defiance, his mouth pressed to your skin like he needed to consume you to survive.

You cried out, back arching, legs wrapping around his waist, dragging him deeper, harder. Your nails—still claws—sank into his shoulders now, drawing blood this time, and he groaned at the pain, at the mark you left behind.

He liked it.

You rolled again—faster this time, fighting for control, your hips slamming into his as your hands forced his wrists down.

And he bucked up into you with a choked sound that was all frustration and all pleasure.

This wasn’t a lover’s rhythm.

This was war.

Bodies colliding.

Mouths crashing.

Hands gripping, bruising, claiming.

You moaned his name—not sweet, not soft, but powerful, like it was a weapon on your tongue. And he answered with his own—your name growled into your neck as he gave in, as he broke, and you felt the way his body snapped beneath yours as he came again, harder, rawer, more vulnerable than the first time.

And you—

You followed.

With a sound that shook the room, that split through shadow and silence like something ancient waking up all over again.

You collapsed over him, breath hot against his skin, your glow flickering like flame dying down from a roaring blaze.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you could.

He was beneath you now—bloody, breathless, ruined.

And he still held onto you.

Fingers tangled in your hair. Chest still pressed to yours.

His voice broke the silence first.

Rough. Dazed.

“You’re not what I thought you were.”

And you—

You smiled against his throat.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m worse.”

The room was still.

Too still.

Your body was warm against his—sated, soft, no longer clawing but resting. Your breath ghosted over Jongho’s skin in slow, steady waves as if the violence between you had never happened. As if you hadn’t left him bruised, bloodied, and changed.

But he remembered.

Every second of it.

His back burned where your claws had torn him open. His lips were raw from your teeth. His hips ached from the force of it all. He could feel the shape of your mark in places no one else would see.

And underneath it all?

A deep, terrible ache.

Not from pain.

But from need.

Jongho stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, arms still half-curled around you like some part of him didn’t know how to let go. Or maybe didn’t want to. He didn’t speak. Didn’t trust his voice. His throat felt raw.

And then you moved.

Just slightly. Just enough for him to feel your mouth brush his neck again. He flinched—only for a second. Not from fear.

From the memory of everything.

“Still alive?” you murmured, your tone wicked-sweet.

He swallowed hard. “Barely.”

You chuckled, fingers lazily trailing over the scars you’d left. “You held your own.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he said quietly.

That made you pause.

Your eyes shifted, the glow beneath them dimmed now—but still there. Your smile faltered, just slightly. “Then what were you trying to do?”

Jongho turned his head to look at you, and gods—you weren’t ready for the way his gaze softened. Still full of fire. But softer.

“I wanted to reach you,” he said.

Your breath caught. Only slightly. But it was enough.

You sat up slowly, straddling his hips, watching him from above again—but the power didn’t feel as clean this time. It didn’t feel like you’d won.

Not completely.

“Why?” you asked, voice low. “Why would you?”

He looked up at you like he didn’t know how not to.

“Because I saw you before you showed your claws.”

That… stung.

You hated it.

And yet, you didn’t move.

He sat up too, arms wrapping around your waist. His chest was bruised. His back torn. He shouldn’t have had the strength to hold you again.

But he did.

And the worst part?

You let him.

“Whatever you are,” he whispered, breath warm on your lips, “I’m not afraid of it. I’m afraid of what it’s doing to me.”

You didn’t answer.

Because for the first time since this all began—

You were starting to feel it too.

And that terrified you more than any fight ever could.

Your body stayed still in his arms, but your mind was already tearing away.

That softness in his voice.

The warmth in his touch.

The way he looked at you like you were something more than what you are.

You couldn’t let it stay.

You wouldn’t.

His fingers traced the small of your back, slow and gentle, anchoring you to a moment that should have felt like victory… but instead felt like chains.

“Don’t,” you whispered.

He stilled. “Don’t what?”

You pulled away—hands pressing against his chest, not roughly, but firmly. Like you were separating from something heavy. Like it hurt.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m worth saving.”

The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room.

Jongho sat there, bare, breathless, the remnants of war still written across his body. And still, he didn’t look away.

“I’m not trying to save you,” he said finally. “I’m just not ready to let go.”

That broke something in your throat.

You stood—naked, glowing faintly again, shadows trailing from your fingertips like smoke. You refused to meet his eyes as you bent to gather your clothes, your touch colder now. Mechanical.

“I was going to take you apart,” you said, voice low and sharp. “Piece by piece. I was going to leave you ruined like the rest.”

“You still can.”

You turned on him, your eyes flashing with something not just anger—but desperation. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me.”

“No,” you snapped. “Because I’m starting to understand you. And that’s worse.”

The glow around you deepened. Your form shimmered, growing less human by the second, less touchable. Your voice softened, dangerously quiet.

“I should have disappeared after the first time.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

You paused.

Just for a breath.

Then whispered, “Because I wanted to stay.”

And then—

You were gone.

Smoke.

Silence.

Emptiness.

Jongho sat in the stillness, your name still on his lips, your warmth fading from his skin like a memory he wasn’t ready to lose.

And somewhere far away, you pressed a hand to your chest—aching—and reminded yourself that wanting was not part of the plan.

Not now.

Not ever.

•

A/N: 2 More chapters left :3 (Girl I am tired, I just got off work.)

[directdogman]

Hello Hound!! Since it's Dialtown's 2nd anniversary, I've been planning up a few "general" related questions about your series that I've been meaning to ask, but I decided to save them up for the big day because why not? Anyways, here's what I've got, these were meant to be fun to answer so don't sweat it :]

1: How do you feel about Dialtown's success? Are you proud of how far you've come? 

2: Which character was the MOST fun for you to write, and which was the most PAINFUL?

3: What is something you wish more people would talk about or just know about related to Dialtown in general?

4: If you had the opportunity to write a FULL complete, detailed life story of any of your characters, who would that be?

5: What's a character you wish you could have given more screen-time or just in general content? (Considering iirc you were trying to make sure Dialtown wasn't TOO long, so I was wondering if this ever came to mind)

6: From what I know, you've been doing the job of cosplaying several characters in the game and acting out their sprites, which one was the most fun to act out?

7: Speaking of sprites, do you have a sprite you could consider your favorite, out of ALL your characters?

8: Do you have a specific line of dialogue you could consider your favorite throughout the entire game?

9: Could you ever see Dialtown expanding into perhaps sequels or maybe even prequels? More DLCs mayhaps? Heck, maybe even a Dialtown 2 or a Chapter 4??

10: If you could make any fan-made interpretation (such as headcanons, designs, or ships) canon if given the opportunity, what do you think would be your pick?

11: What was the MOST fun part about developing Dialtown? Coming up with new characters? Writing them? Adding all the bizarre dialogue options?

12: And last but not least — on a scale of 1-10, how fun was developing Dialtown just in general?

That's all I have for now, and I'm really excited to see your answers!!

I normally don't answer this many questions, but... alright, sure, tis the season!

1: How do you feel about Dialtown's success? Are you proud of how far you've come? 

Yeah, of course! I'm a lil proud, admittedly, but I'm aware of how comically little I really have to do with it all, even if I did make the game. Luck does play a LOT into it, of course. Granted, I made my share of predictions that wound up being useful, but it always comes down to lady luck at the end of the day. I've seen good projects fail and bad ones go viral. It's really all just a hodgepodge of probability and whimsy. That being said, I am very pleased with DT's success, and the community that's formed around the game! It caught me by surprise!

2: Which character was the MOST fun for you to write, and which was the most PAINFUL?

Gingi's always fun to write. And Mingus. Most painful is tough to say. Maybe Crown. I got a little weird when I wrote his full backstory, kinda caught up in the emotion Norm talks about. Never been a fan of stories getting cut short. You gotta wonder what would've happened if he'd made different choices, y'know?

3: What is something you wish more people would talk about or just know about related to Dialtown in general?

Honestly? Karen, probably. She's super underrated for sure. The fandom still loves her, but she doesn't get the same kind of attention as Oliver, Gingi, Randy, Norm. She's worth it.

4: If you had the opportunity to write a FULL complete, detailed life story of any of your characters, who would that be?

Oh, I already have. I have this monstruous 30-40 page document detailing Crown's life and entire career. It's quite a read. and quite a mind-fuck if you don't know Dialtown's universe too well.

5: What's a character you wish you could have given more screen-time or just in general content? (Considering iirc you were trying to make sure Dialtown wasn't TOO long, so I was wondering if this ever came to mind)

Oh yeah, a few characters had scenes that were cut. Stabby, Shooty, Mingus, Bunny, even Bigfoot! There's also the game's cut 6th datable, who was an interesting character with ties to other characters in the cast who I wanted to do more with. Ah, maybe one day.

6: From what I know, you've been doing the job of cosplaying several characters in the game and acting out their sprites, which one was the most fun to act out?

Bigfoot. I made the ape noises in the suit. Had to. It felt right.

7: Speaking of sprites, do you have a sprite you could consider your favorite, out of ALL your characters?

I quite like Norm's set, Mingus' too. Karen's poses too are quite good.

8: Do you have a specific line of dialogue you could consider your favorite throughout the entire game?

That answer probably changes every day. I like pretty much any scene where Mingus loses her temper.

9: Could you ever see Dialtown expanding into perhaps sequels or maybe even prequels? More DLCs mayhaps? Heck, maybe even a Dialtown 2 or a Chapter 4??

I'd love to make sequels one day! I've got a lot of ideas for where the characters/story would end up. By the time DT1 wrapped up, I'd conceptualized way too much stuff to put in one game (without it taking another few years to finish), so if I ever wanted to make sequels, I'd 100% know where to start! But, that's a later down the road conversation.

For now, I'm gonna keep working on the Roger DLC and if there's demand for more, I can go from there :)

10: If you could make any fan-made interpretation (such as headcanons, designs, or ships) canon if given the opportunity, what do you think would be your pick?

I guess I COULD do that with, like, anything. Nothing immediately springs to mind, since, y'know, I'm in control of the canon anyway. I will say, I've seen headcanons and theories that ARE scarily accurate to canon, to the point where I've feared people would just think I'm lifting stuff from the fanbase! It's a good thing I talk about these things with collaborators, huh? I've got a PAPER-TRAIL!!!

11: What was the MOST fun part about developing Dialtown? Coming up with new characters? Writing them? Adding all the bizarre dialogue options?

Finishing a new scene and realizing how stupidly long it was (without me realizing it) was always a treat. But yeah, writing the characters had to be it. Specifically any scene where a character the audience knows meets someone the audience doesn't know well (or at all), with the dynamic changing. Those are fun to write.

12: And last but not least — on a scale of 1-10, how fun was developing Dialtown just in general?

Hard question to answer. I do really wanna give a high number, but truthfully, a lot of game dev actually isn't super 'fun'. Some tasks are, granted, but many parts are a slog. Sitting and formatting dialogue, and then adding text pauses and pose changes isn't exactly a super thrilling activity. The engine itself also has some issues which I have to work around that adds to the workplace. Play-testing a scene for the 4th time isn't super fun either, or trying to figure out why the game crashes on some PCs and ONLY very rarely... Those tasks are Sisyphean to some degree.

...But, while most of those parts aren't fun, it's all still rewarding. There's a sense of accomplishment when you finish a scene. You get to look back at your hard work, remember the hours you spent typing dialogue into a text box and formatting mass amounts of pngs, painstakingly + manually getting the game's awful pre-loader to deal with the sprites right, etc... and suddenly, at the end, you've got this lil experience that people can play and enjoy. Somehow, the sum of all of those not so fun activities has created something that's going to make people laugh, feel happy. That's special. and even if some parts of development weren't super fun on their own, that's always what I remember. That in the end, all of those not so fun days mattered.

The route I agonized the most over was Oliver's. I went through a few weeks of writer's block, and now, it's one of the most popular routes in the game! Crazy how that happens. I was SURE for about a week that people would rank the route at the bottom! That's what I mean, all of the stress I went through trying to figure it out amounted to something people connected with! To think I almost CUT the route entirely!!!

And y'know, God knows Dialtown gave me something to throw myself at during a time where I REALLY needed the outlet. I'm very grateful to the project for that. So, I'll give DT an honorary 8 out of 10, even if it wasn't a consistently 8/10 experience making it heh heh! Sure glad I did, though and I'm very glad if any of you reading this had a really good time playing it! :)

Thanks for the questions!

[nucleo-bang-tan]

Grayscale Pt.2 | JJK

Pairing/s: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Cheating AU, highschool sweethearts, first love

Rating/s: No detailed explicit content, but wouldn't recommend it for minors.

Warning/s: SH!!, Major heartbreak (duh), Jungkook is literally a liar and a dirty, dirty cheat (not irl, he's an angel), mentions of sex with another woman, lmk if I'm forgetting anything.

A/N: Please leave comments, I would love to hear from you guys. Critique my writing and tell me if I'm doing anything wrong, really appreciate it.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Gaeul never wanted this. She never wanted to feel like such a disappointment. But whenever she was with you, she felt like one.

Ever since she transferred to your school, she was no longer the center of attraction. You were so, so kind and so patient with everyone, even with her.

You had helped Gaeul with adjusting to her new school even when you barely knew her.

At her previous school, Gaeul was the top student, and top athlete. But when her father succumbed to his illnesses, she had no option but to move in with her uncle.

The change of pace affected her studies and performance a lot but Gaeul could always count on you to help her with anything.

She would never admit that to some extent, she was jealous of you. Jealous of the attention you received.

"Hey, umm... Gaeul, was it?" She was caught off guard by her crush, Jeon Jungkook.

She tried her best to act nonchalant. Maybe he was trying to finally ask her out.

She fiddled with the cuffs of her school uniform, "Yeah? What's up?"

The anticipation was building up in her belly, or was it just the butterflies he gave her?

"You're friends with Y/n, right?" The mention of your name almost made her lose her cool.

Ofcourse you two were friends, not close ones, but friends nevertheless.

"Y-yeah, what about it?" She tried to contain her distaste towards you. Yet again, you took the attention, but this time, from the person Gaeul wanted the most.

"Does she... she doesn't have a boyfriend, right? I'm asking for a friend." He said.

She sighed, "She doesn't. Her parents would never let her. They'd kill her."

Gaeul could see Jungkook's face light up.

He smiled, "So, it's her parents? She can't have a boyfriend because of her parents?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So would you do me a favour?" Jungkook asked.

"Sure, what is it?" Maybe it was her only chance to get closer to Jungkook, she wasn't going to risk it.

"Bring her to the basketball game this evening. I- my friend will handle the rest."

Gaeul wasn't dumb, she knew this wasn't for his friend. But whatever, she thought, you were probably too stuck up to date someone like Jungkook anyway.

Jungkook was really easy-going and shy and always loved to beat your ass in a match.

You on the other hand loved confident guys and were competitive. It wasn't surprising to know that half the school had a crush on you and Jungkook was among them.

But there was no way you would like Jungkook, right? Right...?

Oh, Gaeul was so wrong. She realised it way too late when she saw you two kissing in the gymnasium.

So after she balled her eyes out for a day or two, she decided it's enough. She was tired of you being better than her.

"Gaeul!" You approached her and hugged her.

"Hey, Y/n." She feigned a smile.

"I cannot thank you enough. You unknowingly helped me and Jungkook a lot."

She realised that she could one-up you. You were hot, for sure. But Gaeul had experience, she could seduce Jungkook easily.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Would you stop? I'm not telling Y/n about this because you are her best friend. Think about her." Jungkook had pulled Gaeul aside. "Plus, don't you have a boyfriend? Second one this month?"

Your friend group was at a club celebrating your nineteenth birthday. You were finally legal and Jungkook decided he'd teach you a thing or two about drinking.

She put a hand on the man's chest and stepped closer, "They would never know. Plus, you have your needs. I'm sure you won't be satisfied by her."

"Shut up, Gaeul. Stop trying to make moves on me, it's not going to work." He walked back to the bar where you were getting a bit too tipsy.

Your best friend watched as he led you outside the club, probably to get you back to your shared apartment.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

But one faithful night for Gaeul, was when you were sick and she found Jungkook studying in the college library alone.

Jungkook didn't notice her until she sat beside him, her skimpy skirt riding up catching his eye.

He cleared his throat and whispered, "What do you want?"

She leaned forward and whispered back, "You know what I want." And placed a hand on his well-built thigh.

But surprisingly, he didn't react to her touch as usual—like it was poison.

He was extremely stressed due to his finals. You being sick didn't help.

"Why do you do this?" He asked eyeing her legs.

"Maybe because I can love you more than Y/n could ever dream of."

He raised his eyebrow, "Trust me, I don't even wanna know. I can't do this right now, just leave."

Her hand trailed up, "Maybe you could use a little stress relief?"

Jungkook tried to make sense of it all, why did he do it? He loved you more than anything, more than he could ever imagine loving anyone. Yet, he found himself buried inside some other girl.

When he returned home, he hoped you were asleep because he was sure he couldn't face you. But you weren't, you stayed up, waiting for him.

He cried in your arms, muttering around a hundred sorry's. He never said why he was apologising. But you kept saying you loved him through it all which made it worse for him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jungkook got up from her bed, finding his shirt, "We can't keep doing this, I-"

"You give in to me all the time, Jungkook. I'm starting to feel bad for Y/n." Gaeul passed him his underwear.

"You're literally the worst person in the world and not to mention the best actor." He slung his bag over his shoulder and looked at her naked form for what he promised himself was the last time.

She smirked, "I'd do it all for love."

"Fuck you."

And fuck her is what he did over the years. Over and over and over again. He knew it was strictly physical for him but for her, he was the love of her life.

He decided to get married to you and maybe then Gaeul would stop. But it was him, he was the problem. He couldn't stop himself.

He knew you were more than enough for him. He could give you all the love he had with him then why?

He gave up at some point, he gave up trying to be loyal to you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Jungkook?" You sat beside him on the couch.

"Yeah, baby?" He looked up from his phone, a smile still evident on his features. No doubt, he was texting her.

Jungkook noticed the change in your behaviour and appearance. You didn't wear his hoodies, the colour under your eyes became darker by the day, you rejected cuddles and never even asked or let him have sex with you, which was weird since the both of you had similar drives.

And the worst of it all, he didn't see you smile during these days.

So now, he was a bit surprised when he realised you initiated a conversation.

He placed his phone aside and slid closer to you. He didn't offer you any hugs or cuddles because he knew something was off.

"Eunwoo's gonna come over to help me with something." Your voice cracked despite your efforts to be stable and calm about it.

He smiled, "Yeah? Sure, we can have him over for as long as you'd like. But why can't I help you?"

"It's nothing. He'll be here in a few hours." You got up and tried to leave. Much to your dismay, your husband held your wrist to stop you.

"Are you alright, baby?" The question almost made you scoff. But you didn't. You wanted to scream at yourself because you didn't scoff at him and leave.

Instead, you melted into his touch and smiled.

"I'm- yeah, I'm good." You said as he pulled you onto his lap. The feeling was so familiar, almost like it was second nature to you.

You wanted to slap him, yell at him, throw a tantrum. But you didn't.

You sighed as your body softened. He caressed your hair, it was an instinct.

"Tell me." He whispered while kissing the top of your head.

You gulped, this was bad. This was so, so bad. You never wanted to be in this position with him today. You should have left. But you didn't.

Instead, you let him kiss you. You were human afterall, how could you stop yourself from loving your own husband?

It felt like home.

He felt like home.

But you weren't his.

Your own best friend could provide him with more comfort than you could.

You sighed into the kiss, letting him take over.

Just one more time wouldn't hurt, right? Letting him take care of you just once more? You begged yourself not to fall into him even if it was the last time. But you couldn't help yourself.

You broke the kiss, eyes tearing up, "Jungkook..."

"What is it, baby?" He pulled you into a hug.

It took you a few seconds to calm your breaths, "Am I enough?"

He pulled back to look you straight in the eyes, lying to you was a second nature to him at this point, "Yeah, baby. I would never want anyone but you."

You smiled, "You sure?"

Jungkook couldn't help but feel as if something, heck, a lot was off about your question.

He should have been truthful, he should have been honest at the time, maybe you would have stayed, "I'd never lie to you."

You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his response making him confused. There was no way you found out anything about him and Gaeul, right?

You got up, "I'll just be in the bedroom..."

It was so casual, as if you didn't know anything. It was so uncanny for Jungkook. As if it was a normal day for you two. But it was anything but normal.

After a while, one of your college friends, Eunwoo rang the doorbell. You didn't even need to think twice before opening it.

Your friend was fuming to say the least and mind you, Eunwoo was never even angry.

"Where is he?" He asked.

"Eunwoo, I just... let's just leave." You said giving him space to come inside the house.

"Leave? You want to just leave after what he did?" He asked, frowning.

You sighed, eyes in a constant state of glistening, "I don't want to-"

"Hey, man. What's up?" Your husband walked in, greeting your friend.

But instead of some kind words, Eunwoo was quick to greet him with his fist to Jungkook's jaw.

The hit was so hard and sudden, it made him fall onto the floor.

"Jungkook!" You gasped trying to get to him but Eunwoo didn't let you. He held you behind him, protecting you like Jungkook was a wild animal and your friend was your guard.

Your husband was stunned but didn't stay down for long. He wiped his bloody lip with the back of his hand.

"You befriend my wife, come to my house and hit me? What the fuck was that?"

Eunwoo chuckled bitterly, "You don't deserve to call her your wife. That was for what you did."

Surely, you didn't know about Gaeul and him. But the way Eunwoo just hit him told him something else.

"I don't want this, let's leave, please." You tried to reason with him.

Jungkook looked visibly confused to which Eunwoo replied, "I'm taking her to my house."

"W-What do you mean?" Jungkook's eyes caught yours.

"Do I really need to explain, Jeon? I'm talking about Gaeul and you. I can't let Y/n stay here with you."

All the colour on Jungkook's face instantly turned pale, the only contrast being his busted lip.

"Y/n, it's not- I- no..." He looked at you for anything, a single word but all you did was look away, tears threatening to fall.

"Don't even try to explain, she's leaving with me."

Jungkook blinked, processing it all. You couldn't leave him. There was no way he was letting you leave with someone else.

"Y/n, please hear me out... it was nothing, I tried to-" He was cut off by another hit to his jaw making him stumble backwards.

This time you didn't bother to look at him. You knew Eunwoo was holding himself back for you. You couldn't bear seeing Jungkook hurt like that.

"You actually have no shame, huh? Stop trying to explain anything. I know, she knows."

Jungkook walked towards you, trying to touch you, he was already crying. But Eunwoo didn't let him near you.

"Please, Y/n, listen to me. I- please..." His voice came out coarse and his breath, bated.

Eunwoo looked disgusted at him, after what he did, he should not even have a chance to explain himself. But Jungkook fell onto his knees, looking up at you.

"I beg you, Y/n. Don't leave me. Please. I love you. I love you more than anything."

But you couldn't bear to look at him, instead, you looked at Eunwoo and silently whispered to him, "Shall we leave?" Your tears betrayed your commands.

Your friend took your hand in his, and led you away from Jungkook, away from the love of your life. Away from everything you ever had.

Jungkook knew he couldn't stop you. Not when you had your friend with you, not when he knew you didn't want to stay.

But he still rushed to you, and hugged your legs, "I can't do this without you, Y/n. Please, please.... don't do this to me."

You looked down and caressed his hair, all you could do was smile, "I love you, Jungkook. You are my everything, but I'm not yours."

"No, no, Y/n. I don't want anything or anyone but you. I promise you the world."

"You did that 11 years ago as well, but look at us now." You kept caressing his hair, it felt so familiar.

Jungkook knew there was nothing he could do, "No, I-"

"Get off of her, that's enough."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Gaeul entered the house in a rush, "Jungkook?"

The said man was lying practically lifeless on the couch. He didn't even bother to see or acknowledge her.

"Jungkook, hey baby. Finally, she left. I heard-"

Jungkook just simply whispered, "Get out..."

"What?"

"Get the fuck out of my house..."

"What's wrong? Aren't you relieved that she left?"

"I don't want to see your face, ever. Just go away before I do something."

Gaeul flinched, "Kookie, come on..."

"I said..." Jungkook yelled at her, "...get the fuck out before I hurt you."

"What did I do?" She backed away.

"What did you do? You ruined everything. And for what? Some high school jealousy? I love her, Gaeul. Never in a million years can I live without her."

She looked annoyed, "After all these years? You still love her? Then why the fuck would you fuck me? Say all those pretty words to me instead of her?"

Jungkook had no idea why.

He was the one who ruined it all, Gaeul was just a factor. But blaming her made it much less painful than it already was.

"I never loved you, Gaeul. I've always loved Y/n. You have never been enough for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have always known it's going to be her, I would never want to be with you."

Gaeul blinked, trying to process it all. She knew Jungkook didn't love her but saying it out loud in this way?

She had originally planned to ruin your relationship as a challenge for herself, but along the way, she fell in love. And Jungkook always ignored it.

She always assumed it was because he didn't want a messy break up and loved the thrill of it all.

"Jungkook..."

He closed his eyes and covered his eyes with his forearm, not wanting to see or hear anymore from her.

"So that's it? We're over?" She looked at him for a denial.

"How delusional can you be? We never were anything."

She chuckled, "And that is why you ruined your marriage?"

"And what about you? Feeling better about your insecure self?" He replied.

"Jungkook, listen to me. We can start over, leave her behind..."

And that is how Jungkook ended up throwing her out of the house.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A knock on your door woke you up. You had no idea when you fell asleep, exhausted from all the happenings and crying.

Every moment felt like a burden to you. Every breath felt heavy. You had poured everything in for Jungkook and now you were completely drained.

You told yourself repeatedly, it was not your fault, not even a bit. But you couldn't deny that you tried to ignore all the bright red signs.

You sat up, your arms barely helped. The brush of your shirt against your stomach burned because of the fresh cuts you gave yourself.

You were living at Eunwoo's house for the past 2 weeks. He had been really supportive through every single bit of this ordeal. He even let you sleep on the bed while he rested on the couch.

Staying with him felt really comfortable, he made sure you had everything you needed. But it reminded you of Jungkook, and how he never let anything bother you.

"Hey... are you alright?" He said, entering.

You smile, "Much better I think. Cried more than I should."

"I uh- I'm sorry for this but..."

"But what?"

"Someone..." He sighed, "Jungkook is here to talk to you."

You looked down at your sleeve-clad hands on your lap, you knew this time was coming. You knew you had to talk to him. Forgiveness was not an option but talking would help a lot with the closure.

You had blocked Jungkook a couple of days after you left. He never stopped calling, not even for a single minute, hoping you'd pick up. Everytime he did, your heart physically ached for him.

But despite this, you weren't sure if you could talk to him without breaking down.

You weren't sure how you survived this long.

You didn't want to survive this long.

"I'll stay here while you two talk, is that fine?" Eunwoo asked.

You took a deep breath. You had thought this through, "I wanna be alone with him."

"Are you sure, I don't mind staying here."

"It's going to be fine, Eunwoo."

Your friend nodded and stepped aside and left letting your ex-lover step inside.

You could barely recognise him. He looked extremely dehydrated and starved. His cheeks no longer held their plumpness. His eyes only seemed to hold life the moment they were laid on you. He looked drunk. But you could tell he made an effort to look presentable to you.

The two of you mirrored each other when your eyes met. Jungkook, however, was the first to let his tears flow.

"Y/n..." He tested the waters by slowly walking towards the bed you were sitting on.

He kneeled down near the edge and extended his arms to touch you. But you didn't let him and it didn't take a genius to understand why.

"S-Say what you want to, Jungkook." You mentally cursed at yourself for stuttering. But how were you supposed to stay calm?

Jungkook had a whole speech prepared. He wanted to apologise for everything he did, everything he lied about and assurr you that he'd never do it again.

But all he could mutter up was, "I'm sorry, Y/n..."

"How long?" You asked. You were always a calm person, and always relied on Jungkook to stand up for you.

He gulped at your stern tone, "5 years..."

The crack in your heart could be heard by him. Tears were long out of your control.

"Y-You... for 5 fucking years?" You cried, "You were with that bitch for 5 years? Jungkook, did you ever even love me?"

"I love you, Y/n, please believe me on this. It was strictly physical with Gaeul."

You scoffed, "Does that even matter!? You fucked my best friend for 5 years, Jungkook. You fucked her when I was right beside you two."

His eyes widened, he had no idea you were awake at the time. He looked at you with pure pain in his eyes. Jungkook wasn't much of an empath but he could feel everything when he was with you.

"If you loved me..." You sobbed, "...you would've told me what the hell was wrong with me. Wasn't I enough?"

"No, no, Y/n, baby. You are more than enough, I-"

Jungkook's eyes landed on your wrist where your sleeve had ridden up. He looked more heartbroken than ever. As if the ground under his feet suddenly decided it didn't want to hold him up.

"Y/n... y-you started again?"

It took you a while but when you realised what he was referring to, you quickly covered your whole body with a blanket, still feeling as if it wasn't enough.

"Please..." He bowed down with his head on the edge of the bed, "...please forgive me, I- I never wanted this to happen..."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, "But it did happen, Jungkook. And I can never forgive you for it. Maybe if it was a one night thing, heck, even a few couple of times. But we're talking 5 years."

He continued crying with his head down. You reached out to touch the back of his hand, which was held in a fist.

He immediately relaxed at your action.

"You humiliated me, Jungkook. Y-You keep apologising but it won't change the fact."

He looked up at you, you face kind as ever. He wanted you to be screaming at him, throwing stuff at him, he didn't even mind if you beat the living shit out of him. He hated this, he hated this so much.

He was the cause of what you were going through, he was the exact things he tried all his life to save you from—pain and disappointment.

"Jungkook?" You said, ever-so-calmly. But everything that had happened was evident in your shaky voice.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Do you love me? Even a little bit?"

It didn't take a single millisecond for him to answer, "Never have I ever loved anything more than I love you..."

"Then, let me let go of you." You whispered, bringing his hand to your lips and placing one last small kiss.

He shuddered, trying his best to not let go of your hand, but it slipped.

Everything he ever had, everything he ever wanted, lost.

You didn't say anything, you didn't need to. Jungkook knew you better than you did, he knew what your words signified. It was the end. The end of everything.

The sound of the door opening, Eunwoo speaking, everything seemed drowned out for him.

He didn't say anything either, he just got up and left. He didn't know where to, he didn't have a home, just an empty shell of what used to be.

[merrinla]

Halsin and Minthara weren't always mutually exclusive

Even though you can recruit both of them, in the game it looks like a funny bug. I guess this is what's left of the original idea. It was previously planned not only letting you have them at the same time, but also that they would interact in the party like other companions.

In the audio files, you can find lines of their reactions to each other's deaths. I don't know if these are triggered or not. They are both so bugged that sometimes I can hardly tell which is the cut content and which is the bug.

It's kind of funny that Halsin would be so sad.

I recently completed Halsin's quest with Mintara in my party. In the scene by the lake, when Halsin entered the portal, Minthara said "He made it. Now let's just hope he survives what's on the other side"

Actually this is exactly the same line as Tav's.

Halsin also share many lines with Tav and other origins. Most of them are unused. But in this case the line is not only voiced by Emma Gregory (Minthara's VA), it's triggered.

There is another interesting line. In Moonrise Towers, when Ketheric punishes Mintara for a failure in the grove and sends her to the dungeon, the player can choose not to interfere and leave the location without helping her. In this case one of the characters in your party will remind you that she can be saved as a potential companion. I was wondering if Halsin would say anything. And he did. "Minthara may prove useful to us, should we wish to save her…"

This isn't cut content. This isn't new content added with patches. It's in the game since the release. And this line works. Moreover, this is his personal line.

If they implement the dialogue with an ultimatum it will be nonsense. I mean, first he suggests to save her from the Absolute as a useful ally, and then in the camp he will say that it's the right choice to kick her back under the Absolute control. It's even hard to blame the character for such contradiction. Rather, it's just a stupid limit set by the script.

Next. In Act 3 if you make one of them to go up on the clown stage, the other one will approve.

There is also an unused flag for Act 3 in the game files with the description "Orin pretended to kill Halsin during the Minthara abduction campnight." Which means in Act 3 they were both in the party.

You can see what the abduction of Mintara looks like in this video. Only instead of Halsin, Jaheira is mentioned here.

Maybe there are other confirmations that I do not know about, that they were not mutually exclusive before. But that's enough for me.

They were both not originally planned as companions. Their roles were expanded much later. Most likely, Larian didn't have time to polish their content, so scissors were used. This is why their content seems so unfinished compared to others. Except for Wyll, probably. That's why they are so buggy.

I suppose the reason they are both mutually exclusive is because it is the easiest solution when you have a deadline on the horizon. Just easiest as "it's fine for a companion to just hang out at the camp". Otherwise, you need dialogs, animations, scripts, etc. And you also need to make sure that it will work with everything else. This is time and resources. But this doesn't mean that it's impossible to fix anything later.

I faintly hope that the defenetive edition will have the option to recruit them both.

And I really hope that in the future Larian will look at the games of their colleagues from BioWare (who made the original BG). I mean games from better times than now. The companions below will show you how much they "loved" each other. Not all of them became friends in the end. But nevertheless, we saved the world. Together.

[t00thpasteface]

i very deeply respect your mashposting and even though im not as enthusiastic about hawkahy as you are i think the content you make for them us delightful and some of the best mashposting on this godforsaken website. that being said, i wanted to know ur takes on the hawkeye & trapper dynamic, and the hawkeye & bj dynamic. Not in a shippy way, just in the World of Hawkahy what role do trapper and bj play in their relationships with hawkeye :3 this because i love that one comic u did where hawkeye is spunchbop and bj is Patrick its one of my fave pieces of mash fanart lol

(⁠๑˘❥⁠⁠ ˘๑⁠) first off, THANK YOU!! i'm soooo crazy about hawkahy and i really enjoy contributing to my fellow shippers, but i'm glad my art can also still appeal to people who are less interested the ship itself.

second, VERY fun question!! i wish i had definitive answers for yall, but you know me... i love to go "well idk it could go either way" ^_^;; really, it depends on what kind of tone and theme i'm looking for. i don't really write heavier stuff (because i have so much fun writing funny fic) so that kind of narrows my options, but there's a lot of potential i'd love to explore— or see someone else explore, if they're so inclined!

TRAP:

generally the trapper reading i typically default to is that he and hawkeye have a pretty casual FWB thing going on. trapper considers hawkeye a very close friend and hooks up with him at an intersection of bicuriosity and deep platonic affection, but hawkeye catches baddddd feelings and ends up genuinely heartbroken to find out their thing was lopsided. in this case, hawkahy would happen only after trapper leaves— mulcahy has a tough time trying to get noticed before that point :( but at the same time, i don't think mulcahy would pounce at the first opportunity, because i don't think an immediate rebound would be good for hawkeye nor mulcahy... but it could happen for dramaaaaa...

another version of the hawkeye-trapper rapport that i love playing with in my fics is trapper being generally very supportive but nonetheless slightly grossed out. i think there's a lotttt of comedy potential with hawkeye thinking it's okay to fuck a priest but NOT a married woman, and meanwhile trapper is pro-infidelity but anti-priestfucking (for whatever reason), and they squabble and tease each other about it the whole time.

it's also funny to think about is trapper trying to figure out whether mulcahy now gets the "one of the bros" back-slapping beer-chugging dude treatment, or if instead he's now slotted into the "go easy on 'em trap" category that protects hawkeye's ladyfriends from hearing trapper's bawdiest jokes and comments when hawkeye brings them along as a plus-one to the swamp.

trapper seems like he's pretty likely to sniff out that hawkeye and mulcahy are seeing each other even if they try their damnedest to keep it secret. i like to think hawkeye trusts trapper enough that he would go ahead and divulge it it up front pretty soon after it's official. trapper could probably even pick up hawkeye's crush beforehand... maybe even before hawkeye knows about it!

i don't see trapper as being too jealous of hawkeye spending a lot of time with mulcahy, even if it means hawkeye is now exclusive and not sleeping with trapper anymore. if anything i think he'd be pretty stoked that he's got one less guy to compete with for the nurses' attention. pretty sweet deal as far as he's concerned.

i do think there'd be some tricky navigating between how hawkeye acts with trapper and the STARK difference with how he acts around mulcahy, which you can see clear as day in the s1 finale, where hawkeye gets soooo soft and careful while talking to mulcahy. i don't think either one is disingenuous; i think hawkeye contains multitudes. hawkeye's not the type to fake sincerity. and to that end, i really don't think hawkahy should hinge on hawkeye totally giving up all the cruder parts of his personality (especially since mulcahy is really no saint either), so it could be pretty interesting to see that manifest in whether/how he's still maintaining a close friendship with trapper now that he's been seeing mulcahy regularly and trying to make a good impression.

BEEJ:

the direction bj goes in depends on whether hawkahy are already an item before he gets there. he does form that almost instantaneous trauma-bond with hawkeye on his first day, but i think if hawkeye admitted "yeah by the way the chaplain is my boyfriend" as soon it seemed safe, bj would be able to take it in stride as another weird little quirk of the mash he has to get used to. he's too hung up on dealing with all the gore to worry about who's banging who.

by contrast, i think he could potentially get pretty upset/jealous if hawkeye and mulcahy paired up a little while later. i can see him feeling really betrayed, like, "what do you normally do when i'm gone?" "wait for you to get back!!"

if bj still doesn't feel like he's really enmeshed himself into the unit— which i think on some level, he never wants to, because he's banking on dropping everything like a hot potato the second he can— then i can totally picture him just feeling completely lost and isolated when hawkeye is suddenly forgoing their boys-nite boozathons in favor of getting some priest pipe. like, at least trapper could always go find his own cuddle buddy to pass the time and had nurses lining up to volunteer; bj has basically nobody and doesn't seem inclined nor equipped to fix that. hawkeye is his liason to the rest of the camp, and bj isn't so great with people without having hawkeye there to help as both teleprompter and safety net.

basically i think bj wants to keep hawkeye within a very specific arm's-length radius— not too close, but not too far either, and hawkeye having so much private time with someone else could really get under his skin.

you could also have bj think the priestfucking is gross/bad on sheer principle like trapper did, even without the jealousy angle, and it'd probably hold a little more water coming from bj than trapper. however, it'd be funny if he's insisting it's definitely not a jealousy thing and he's being fully objective about it, but you can totally tell he's just jealous. x)

i admit i kinda love seeing bj get tormented, because he's got such obvious buttons to press and yet sternly insists that they don't even exist, similar to houlihan and frank. like, you can't just set that up and not expect me to rub my hands together and SLAM those buttons as hard as i can. ergo, bj getting jealous about hawkahy is supremely funny to me. i'm not too proud to admit that!

[officialdaydreamer00]

House fire

ROLLO FLAMME — in which one can predict a student exchange program might go south real quick

COLLAB WORK with @unfictinalnightmare for [The chimes of comfort]

CONTENT — takes place after glorious masquerade, our yuusonas (hillary and irene) are yuu, silly shenanigans with hillary and irene, rollo will show up soon :)

TAGGINGS — @cloudcountry @identity-theft-101 @xen-blank @esmerulia-chantelle @dove-da-birb @cookiesandbiscuits @vioisgoinginsane @siren-serenity @loser-jpg @axvwriter @aqua-beam @edith-is-a-cat @minimallyminnie @thehollowwriter @taruruchi @cyanide-latte @ferris-thewheel + others :3

Do reblog or comment if you enjoy my work! ^-^

Chapter 1: An undeniable request || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

"WHAT?!"

"As I have just said, I want the two of you to act as our representatives when Mr. Flamme arrive to Night Raven College in the next student exchange."

The headmage offered the two girls in front of them a smile. Black and white, blood red and sea green, both were staring at their 'beloved' headmage with a look of utter disdain.

"Wait, pause- Who the hell is Flamme?" Hillary gave the girl next to her a confused glance before averting her eyes back to the headmage. Irene only sighed, taking off her round glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Rollo Flamme, Noble Bell's rep and School Council President, he was our guide in Fleur City."

Irene was still haunted by that incident in Fleur City. She thought it was a rare occasion to relax after weeks and months of doing errands for the damn crow, but no. Seven knew he was plotting such a devious scheme.

"Indeed, ahem... Since the student body were rather, well, hesitant when speaking about him, so I believe you two are the best option as his guide in the upcoming exchange program." Crowley said joyfully. "Oh, and by the way, Mr Flamme shall stay at Ramshackle Dorm in the short duration of the program, I truly hope the two of you can do your best to accommodate him."

The headmage went on and on with his monologue, ignoring every signs of refusals from Hillary and Irene.

With Irene and her unforgettable experience in Noble Bell College, she was rather afraid of Rollo still. Who knows what could happen during the entire program when he faced NRC's students, especially her upperclassman Malleus. It would be one hell of a meeting, and like hell she wanted to be the one cleaning it up for the nth time.

With Hillary, who wasn't on the list of students on that trip to Fleur City, her impression about Rollo was practically zero. And it wasn't like she could ask Irene or the others since they wouldn't peep a single word. Though perhaps that was enough signs to guess this Flamme guy was anything but a saint.

———————————————————

"I refuse."

Hillary immediately shook her head, cutting off Crowley's ramblings as he squawked in surprise. Not like he could force her to do his biddings anyways.

"I also refuse."

Irene followed her lead and answered as well, seeing how Hillary gave both of them a way out. It wouldn't hurt to work with that troublesome girl if it meant one less baggage on her shoulders.

"Oh no... Why must you two treat me, the kindest and most beloved headmage, that way? What a hurtful thing to hear from the Prefects themselves..."

Hillary and Irene could only watched in exasperation as the headmage blabbed on about his so-called kindness and hard work. However, the headmage was never an easy person to deal with, he gave them an unreadable smile.

"Nevertheless, as a careful teacher I am, I have come prepared! So I am counting on you two, Trein-sensei, Crewel-sensei."

———————————————————

Only after one long session of persuation from two most respected professors on campus, using various tricks and techniques, did Hillary and Irene agree to it, albeit reluctantly. Though it was a golden opportunity for them to upgrade Ramshackle dorm even more. They couldn't let that infuriating headmage win that easily.

"Fine. I promise to lend you some ingredients for your magic research." Crewel shook his head and sighed, looking at Irene with a tired stare.

The little dark pup excelled at everything and destroy every challenges thrown her way, which he was proud of as a Professor. Only that she was so damn stubborn and had a penchant for dark magic.

"Thank you, sir!" Irene smiled as she happily accepted the deal, thinking about all the things she could get from the Potions professor's laboratory.

However, if Irene was already headstrong, Hillary was completely, utterly a hardhead. Trein and Crowley even had to use the library key and give her free reign to it for her to agree.

And so the preparation the student exchange program began...

[drunkinyourbenz]

DIE FOR YOU — chapter one

୨ৎ bodyguard!billie eilish x princess!reader

series masterlist . prologue .

୨ৎ summary: you were the crown princess of your kingdom, raised to be elegant, poised, flawless, and a perfect balance of kind and calculating. your whole life was planned out for you, it had been since you were born. there had never been any other option, you were the future ruler of your kingdom, and you were expected to act like it. but sometimes, things happen that you can’t control—and before you know it, you’re faced with a choice that may result in betraying your family, your kingdom, and your people.

୨ৎ content: fluff, angst (nothing much)

୨ৎ note: chapter one <3 i can't tell if this is good i went into a deep dive and hyperfixated on the fashion but then only wrote like a paragraph on it :( but yeahh hi guys i hope this is good (this didn't show up in tags the first time i posted it if it doesn't this time i'll quit tumblr)

୨ৎ wc: 2.2k

the throne room is bathed in a soft morning light, casting soft shadows over the elegant decor chosen by none other than your mother. the whole castle is a collection of extravagant gold ornaments and first edition paintings and flower arrangements, just to remind everyone just how rich the family is—as if anyone didn’t already know that. the castle is gorgeous inside and out, a large stone building that sits atop a hill, surrounded by lush green forests and backing onto a large picturesque lake. 

the interior is no less gorgeous—it holds the stories of generations after generations of your family who had lived and died in that castle. somehow, you weren’t sure if that was what you wanted. you’d been born in this castle, and you were destined to sit in this throne until someone else took over or you died. 

It’s a cage—a lovely, gorgeous cage, but a cage nonetheless. 

you sit in your throne, the silky fabric of your dress draped delicately over the contours of your thighs, your hands loosely clasped in your lap. the dress had been picked out by your mother and was a dark blue colour. the silk is soft against your skin, but the corset is suffocating. you’d never really had much of a choice when it came to corsets, your mother had forced you into them the moment you turned fifteen and had never looked back. 

your parents are talking to a royal advisor, you’re there to sit still and look pretty. you always listen to what they say during these meetings, but your parents never give you any details on any of the kingdom’s affairs when you ask—you’re  not sure how they expect you to rule the kingdom if you don't know how to deal with the day to day life of a ruler. 

while your parents drone on about one of the kingdom's numerous issues, you find your eyes drifting over to billie. your personal guard stood beside you, about a metre away from your throne. she’d changed since she’d been appointed your guard—you both had. gone was the light hair with pink tips, replaced with long dark brown hair. she had this effortless beauty about her, she quite literally didn’t have to do anything to be the most gorgeous person you’d ever met. 

her long brown hair was tied up in a low ponytail, brushed in front of one of her shoulders. a few strands of her hair were framing her face out of the ponytail, and her blue eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her. she stood next to your parents personal guards, and the lower ranked guards stood by the doors and other stations around the room. the guard uniform was a black suit—seemingly plain, but it hid numerous weapons and other tricks. 

her eyes meet yours, and she sends you a barely noticeable smile. your lips subtly twitch up in return, and the meeting suddenly seems far less boring. 

you could feel eyes on you—not the soft, almost reverent gaze of billie, but the judgemental stare of your parents. inspecting every little thing about you—the slight slump of your shoulders and the way your eyes kept drifting to either the window or in the general direction of billie. with a inaudible exhale, you straighten your back and fix your eyes on where your hands sit in your lap, ignoring the all too familiar twisting feeling in your stomach. your parents' eyes eventually move from you, but you’re still very much aware of the fact that any wrong movement, they’ll catch. 

after what felt like hours, but was—according to the analog clock that lives on the table—only half an hour, the advisor sends your parents an exaggerated smile, “well, we’ll get back to this at a later date. i’m sure you have many duties to attend to, your majesties.” 

with that, the man stands up. you watch as he runs a hand through his slightly greasy graying hair, before he finally bows and leaves the room. instead of letting out the sigh of relief like you’d like to, you let your hands relax from the way they’d been clenched around each other, barely noticing the small crescent moon indents that your nails had left. 

your parents turn to you before you get a chance to even think about leaving, your mother’s manicured nails tapping against the arm of her throne as she speaks. “darling, there’s another ball tomorrow. i’d advise you look through the dresses i selected for you, we really do need you finding a suitor some time soon.”

biting the inside of your cheek, you hum softly, “of course, mother.” 

“once chosen one of the dresses, please visit me. i believe there is something we need to discuss.” 

you nod again, ignoring the impending pit of dread in your stomach at those words. “of course.” 

with that, your mother waves her hand, a silent signal that you are dismissed. you’re out of the room as soon as you possibly can be, billie only a few steps behind. you’re back in your room in no time, door shut behind the two of you. you finally allow yourself to let out the exasperated sigh you'd been holding back. ignoring the dresses your mother had set out for you, you walk to the large french doors out onto the balcony, opening the lacy curtains that cover them and stepping out into the fresh air. the balcony is hidden from the view of everywhere else in the castle, and you rest your arms against the intricate stone rails, looking out at the skyline. 

the weather has turned now—the soft sunlight that had been bathing the castle before has been replaced with dark grey storm clouds, the trees nearby rustling in the strong wind as if to warn you of the storm on its way. 

you’re not entirely sure when billie ends up next to you, but eventually, you feel her presence beside you. she looks out over the lake that your room faces, taking in the way the blue and grey tones of the stormy sky reflect over the water. after a while, her eyes drift, no longer gazing over the view and instead watching you. her blue eyes travel over your side profile—taking in the way your eyes are slightly glazed over, slightly unfocused. your mind is on other things, and billie can tell. 

she can always tell. 

taking a step closer, billie nudges your shoulder with her own, drawing your gaze away from the sunset. your eyes meet billie’s, and for a moment, she just watches you, a soft look in her eyes. after a moment, she speaksup. 

“you okay?” 

you pause for a moment, looking over at her. you look at the way her dark hair falls over her shoulders and her blue eyes search yours, as if looking for something deeper than what you were letting her see, some emotion hidden away below the surface. you hum softly, nodding softly. "mhm, i'm okay."

billie goes to speak again, but you push yourself away from the railings, the skirt of your dress twirling around you slightly as you turn. brushing the subject off, you glance over your shoulder at billie, “i should pick out a dress for tomorrow, i want your opinions.” 

an unreadable expression comes over billie’s face, oh. tomorrow. right. billie hated the balls, and she wasn’t particularly subtle about it. her eyes would trail over the suitors from other kingdoms, taking in their pretentious suits and the way they looked at you as if you were simply an eyepiece, an accessory for them. she could never help the way her lips would turn down, her eyes narrowing a fraction. 

but she wasn’t one to turn down—well, anything. she wasn’t known to turn down anything, as long as you were involved. so she nods, painting a smile over her face, “yeah, show me, princess.” 

that’s how you end up in the last of the three dress options your mother had picked out for you—billie facing the wall while you tug at the ribbon of the corset to tighten it enough. the other two dresses had been gorgeous, a fact that billie had not hesitated to make sure you knew, but they hadn’t felt quite right. the last dress is a pale blue silk with silver embroidery on it, and it hangs around you far more comfortably than the others, the fabric less stiff. 

once the dress is fully on, you look up, “you can turn around.” 

after a moment of billie collecting herself, she turns. her eyes land on you, her breath catching in her throat. her eyes trail over your figure, taking in the fitted bodice with its scooped neckline and the flowing skirt. eyes flickering up to your face the way you smiled softly, waiting for her opinion. she’s always adored how you value her opinion, how you involve her in these things. billie may not know much about fashion or what a princess wore, but she does know how her heart skips a beat when she sees you dressed up like this, and she swallows heavily before speaking. 

“this one. definitely this one.” 

lips twitching into a smile, you look down at the dress and then back up at billie, eyes lighting up slightly. “you think so? perfect, that’s what i thought.” 

under her gaze, you feel like a princess. like, a real princess. not how the princes look at you, not like a pawn in someone else's game, not like an accessory or a bargaining piece. you feel…truly adored by her. she’s had that look in her eyes since you were kids—since the moment the line of every interaction being unbearably awkward was crossed, she had held you in a sort of reverential place in her heart. she felt like a dog at your door—her only offerings being her love and protection, and you’d open the door every single time. 

your eyes meet, your smile only widening when you see the soft look her eyes hold. she holds your gaze, and you’re brought back to the first time her gaze had ever been that soft with you—or at least, the first time that you had noticed. 

the two of you had been sitting by the lake—in view of the castle, but everyone was at the harvest festival, so no one was paying any attention to the two sixteen year olds who had snuck away. you sat there, hands in the grass beside you and the soft sunlight making your skin glow. billie’s hand was on the ground next to yours, propping her up, and if she’d moved ever so slightly closer your fingers would have brushed together. 

the soft breeze made leaves dance around the two of you, and after a long moment you dragged your eyes from the picturesque scene of the sunset reflected in the gently rippling water of the lake. 

“do you think it’ll always be like this?” you asked, voice so soft you weren’t sure it was even audible. 

it was audible, of course. billie could notice every little thing about you—each slight twitch, every curve of your brow and shift of your gaze. billie had mastered the art of noticing, even as a naive sixteen year old. “like what?” 

“like… do you think i’ll always be waiting for something.” 

billie had hummed quietly, “waiting for…?”

“something to change, i guess. something to happen.” 

at your words, billie had glanced at you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she had that soft look in her eyes, that reverent gaze. “well, whatever you’re waiting for...you’ll only be waiting if you don’t make it happen.”

a sigh left your lips, and you returned to wistfully staring out over the lake. 

as you pulled yourself from the memory, your eyes meet billie’s again. turning around so your back was to her, you speak softly, “could you untie this?” 

billie’s fingers move to the ribbons of the corset, carefully untying it enough to make it easy for you but not to actually take it off. a silence hangs over you, billie’s fingers brush the bare skin of your upper back near your neck—an action that almost certainly must have been purposeful, as the dress didn’t leave much skin bare. moments after her fingertips left your skin, she speaks up. 

“how do you feel about the balls?” 

you pause for a moment, the question not the words you’d been expecting to leave her mouth. “billie, i don’t think it makes a difference how i feel about them.”

billie didn’t miss a beat, “it matters to me.” 

with a sharp inhale, you step away slightly once she’s untied the corset, “you already know.” 

billie doesn’t deny those words, nor does she pull you back when you step backwards. billie knows how you feel—she’s the only person you’d trust to talk to about such things, and even if you didn’t, she has a way of reading you like a book. you’re not an open book, not even in the slightest, but perhaps you are when it comes to her. 

you turn to face her, going to speak before you remember what your mother had said. the frown that paints your lips is automatic, a reaction you can’t stop at the thought of having the ‘discussion’ your mother had spoken of earlier. 

“you’re going to talk to her?” billie’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you look up from where your fingers had clenched around the fabric of your dress. your words are mumbled, “i should. i’ll just get changed.” 

“i’ll get going then.” billie offers you a smile, “your royal highness.” a smile appears on your face at the use of your title—an ongoing joke between the two of you, referencing when fourteen year old billie had been too terrified to address you as anything but your official title. she knew now that your name was preferred, but the title made you smile, something she would stop at nothing to achieve. 

and with that, billie slips out of your room. you watch the door close behind her, the soft thud it makes as it clicks shut, and the room feels empty.

rooms tend to feel empty without her there—perhaps that’s the result of spending so much time with someone. 

you only wish it could come without the dull ache in your chest. 

୨ৎ taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added or removed!) @47lake @st0nerlesb0 @n0vabug @darkside-0f-the-sun @asterisk-eyes @amara-eilish @dragoneyelashart @greenbttrflyy @bilswifee @tan1shere @asothinking @ilovealiceosemann @chrissv4mp @lovelyy-moonlight @cantlandonmyfeet @jayjaywetforbils @karaaeilish @billiesbabygirll @g0ldwingedwildfl0w3r @eloiseluvsbillie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @hkkuugu @ash198458 @youmademefeel @jennaswifey