#like the hardest week i've had in a really long time

[biwitchenergyz]

That Thing Called Love

This is the final part of this story! Thank you for all the love! There will be one more story in this series, but that will be a one-shot set during Sinners.

Warning! Smut, Mentions of the Klan, and mentions of death. Also, a super long chapter!

Translations- Mo Dhia= My god, Mo chroí= My heart, and Táim i ngrá leat = I'm in love with you

Pa might have been right, you considered, I don’t know when to shut up. 

“What ya’ thinking about?” Remmick questioned, folding your clothes with tender hands, scared to mess up or overstep. You never thought your childhood bed could fit a grown adult, especially not a man, but Remmick fit perfectly. Just as well as he fit into everything else in your life. 

“Just think it's funny, I've been calling it Remmy’s room and now it really is.” You’ve never seen him smile the way he does at your words. He grins from ear to ear, exposing his beautiful, fanged teeth that you know would slice your flesh with the gentlest touch. Your heart flutters: this is what comes of your lack of self-control. 

Four nights ago, about three weeks after you first met your little crow, Remmick came knocking on the door as was routine. He was covered in dust, looking adorably disheveled, and he explained that he had fallen through the roof while working on the old mill house, which he had found a few miles away.

Although you laughed at him, taunting as he called it, you suggested he just stay with you. Naturally, he refused and argued against it for two days before falling through the roof again and returning to you like a desperate dog.

It was a reasonable arrangement; the two of you had grown to be friends. Before moving in, he visited nearly every night, staying up and talking for hours before he decided it was time for you to go to sleep, even when you protested. Occasionally, you cooked for him when he had enough blood in his veins to enjoy the pleasures of humanity. 

Those were his favorite nights because he got to stand in the kitchen with you, talking about everything and nothing, sometimes singing together as he tried to lure you from the stove to dance with him. If he asked, he’d get the chance to cook with you, even though it was mainly him grabbing whatever you pointed out. After dinner, you let him help you with the dishes, and it almost always turned into a water fight.

You expected living together wouldn’t be much different. Except you forgot about the tension. Always whispering in the background, licking at you like flames. A touch that lingered, words too soft to repeat, and glances that bordered lust. Even the most innocent of moments held something deeper. Remmick folded your clothes along with his, intimate and domestic. You wondered if this was how newlyweds felt.

There was something darker growing between the two of you. Hidden by the light of your budding relationship and potential feelings. Possession was in every shadow, it was in the way you combed his hair as you pulled him closer, it was there when he pulled you into his lap in the name of companionship as you wrote spell after spell. Not that you minded it, you craved his obsession for it fueled your own.

“Gonna sit with me, sugar?” That insufferable nickname. You were willing to bet that Remmick kept a detailed list in his mind of all the nicknames he could call you. He knew exactly when to use them against you, and he always knew which one would make you the weakest. As requested, you join him on the bed.

“How was the market? Is Annie doing well?” Remmick never said it out loud, but he loved to hear about your day. He didn’t care about humans or their woes, but he did care about you. If you loved something, he would try his hardest not to destroy it beneath his withering touch. If the sun weren't so cruel, he would spend every day with you from morning to night. 

“Annie is good, she still wants me to talk to Benny Boy.” You don't notice how Remmick falters. “I got more blackberries, thought I could use them for a little kitchen witchcraft! I found a recipe for blackberry muffins in my ma’s spellbook, supposed to be good for protection. I’ll always remember her in the kitchen telling me what ingredients would cast a love spell, and which would bring us luck.” 

Remmick wanted to kiss you. He found it increasingly hard to stop himself, especially when you told him things that he knew were special to you, things that had a place in your heart. “Sounds nice, darlin’. I’ve been wonderin’ if your putting love spells in your food or maybe it's just too damn good.” You glow under his praise; he notices it. He notices everything about you.

A car horn interrupts your conversation. Only one person would be honking outside your house this close to sundown. You left Remmick, going to the front door and cracking the shutters to peek outside. Benny’s slick black car was approaching your house. You could strangle him, but the press of Remmick's chest against your back reminded you there were more important things to deal with.

You turned to him, shocked that he had followed you and even more stunned at how close he got as he attempted to look over your shoulder without being caught by the eager sun. You wondered if it was normal to feel so safe with a man cornering you and your back against a wall. You knew it was deranged, but it made warmth flood your stomach.

“It’s just Benny.” You're so grateful that the sun is still up and Remmick is trapped in the darkness of your home, all the windows closed and a million of your ritual candles lit. “Stay inside, suns not down yet. Besides, he ain’t no threat.” 

Remmick disagrees; in his opinion, your ex-fiancé is the biggest threat in his life right now. More threatening than a thousand suns and a million vampire hunters. It’s not his place; he won’t leave the house or hurt the man. Only restricting himself because it is what you asked of him. His blood, technically the blood of some foolish Klansmen whom he’d drunk from and gutted, boils within him.

You are about to open the door, but Remmick stops you, holding out your robe so you can cover your body, clad in nothing but a lacy nightgown. Earlier in the day, he had flushed like a tomato when you stepped out of the bathroom in the sheer fabric, but he was getting used to your nightwear. 

You took the robe, wrapping it tightly around your waist. Recently, you’d found yourself dressing in your most intimate nightgowns just to watch Remmick struggle. You liked the hunger in his eyes, the way he scratched the back of his neck, and his flushed face. You especially liked how he clawed into his thighs to stop himself from touching you.

“Hell, you doing out here so late, Benny Boy?” You make a point of shutting the door behind you. Benny climbs out of his car, handsome and lean. He flashes you a dimpled smile. Once upon a time, you would have fallen into his arms just because of the gesture. His skin, dark and soft, glows like yours in the setting sun. It's subtle yet charming. 

“Annie told me she worries you're mighty lonely out here. Least I could do was check on you.” It’s sweet, it’s his nature. You meet in the middle of the yard, exchanging a side hug that isn't awkward but isn't intimate. He’s a good Christian man, but you weren’t what he wanted.

“She’s supposed to worry about me! She’s my sister after all. But ain’t no reason for you to go out of your way to see me! Still, I appreciate that you did.” Benny has a boyish charm, shy and awkward. It reminds you of when you first started hanging out with Remmick. It’s cute on a boy, but Remmick has proven himself to be much more than that. The occasional charm is endearing, but he has moments that are so serious and raw that it makes you fidget under his gaze. 

“You alright? You look a little red.” Benny jokes, thinking his presence has affected you when all you can think of is the man probably pouting in a corner behind you right now. You nod faster than necessary.

“I���m fine, Benny! You should head back home now,” you try to nudge him to his car, but he doesn't move. He studies your face, not like Remmick does; there's no adoration or awe in his gaze.

“I’ve missed ya’. Annie’s doing good now, there’s no need for you to put your life on hold anymore.” You wish he would shut up, your eyes beg him to stop, but he doesn't notice or doesn't care. “Let’s get married. Have a house and a family like we always wanted, before it's too late.” Even now, he considers his dreams as your own.

“I don’t want that. I love ya’, Benny. You will always be important to me, and you’re an amazing man, but my future can’t be like yours. If it does, I guarantee I'll end up like my mother.” 

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Because I ain’t in love with ya’. Maybe I never was. You want a big family, with a bunch of kids all running a farm and attending church every Sunday. There ain’t nothing wrong with it. In fact, I think it's beautiful, but God, Benny, I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want, but it's not that and it ain’t you.”

Benny listened, for possibly the first time, and when you went quiet, he nodded like he expected every word. He pulled you into a hug, warm and welcoming, then pulled away. “I think you're makin’ a mistake. I hope you're happy, I do.” Then he turned to hop into his car.

A weight lifted from you, maybe it was the weight of his love, but you felt surer of yourself than you had in over five years. You made your way back to the house, hearing Benny’s car start with a growl. When you opened the door, Remmick pulled you into his arms.

 It was nothing like Benny’s hug. It yearned, promised, and comforted like nothing ever had. You fold against him, forgetting to close the door, forgetting that Benny hadn’t driven off yet, forgetting that the sun couldn’t reach Remmick's skin from just beyond the threshold. “Táim i ngrá leat.” You didn’t understand the foreign words, but you nuzzled into his arms nonetheless, glowing red eyes hidden from your view.

Benny put the car in reverse, taking one last look at your retreating figure. He watched a white man pull you into his arms with the sincerity and desperation of a lover. The man looked up, staring right through Benny with eyes like shadows and embers. This man, this devil, closed the door behind you, and Benny didn't look back.

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“The whole Delta is talking about it! At the market today, all the church ladies came up to me asking if you was dating the damn Grand Dragon!” Annie dropped her bag on your table, barging in just as Remmick shut the bedroom door behind him. You knew he could hear her; you imagined the disgust on his face at the absurd statement.

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” Annie took a seat, watching you stir your bowl as you peered down at your mother's spellbook. Blackberries stained the beige batter as you stirred it together.

“Benny Boy told me he came by to see you. Said he watched a white man cradle you in his arms as if you were his wife!” You didn't know who you wanted to hit more—Benny for starting the rumor or Remmick for giving him a reason to. 

“If Benny only told you, then how does the whole Delta know?” You tiptoed around Annie's statement, not willing to acknowledge what Benny saw.

“Well, he told Baby Bee as well.” You frowned, wiping the flour off your nightgown. You hadn’t dressed for company.

“Then that bastard wanted it to get out! Everyone knows Baby Bee would tell your whole life story to the Klan just for the hell of it.” To be fair, you liked his sister. Beatrice was the youngest of Benny’s siblings, and she had earned the nickname Baby Bee even though you figured it should have been Blabber Bee.

“Who is he?” Annie was tired of your game. You didn’t have to ask what she was talking about; you already knew. 

“Just a friend, Annie. Besides, he’s Irish.”

“That only makes him whiter to me.” She retorted, making you giggle despite the glare on her face. “Don’t laugh. This is serious. If word got to the wrong person that you were messin’ around with a white man, lord help us.” You felt a little bad for worrying your sister so much, but then again, Annie was a natural at it.

“We ain’t messin’ around. He’s my friend, and Benny had no right to slander my name.” You set the muffin mix down and rest a tender hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Don’t let them wrap you up in this. Their gossip is my burden to bear.”

“Tell me something about him,” Annie watched your eyes as she made her plea. “I just, I need to hear it.” You weren’t sure what she was getting at. You thought it over in your head, whatever you said would be heard by the man himself, and you didn’t want to expose any feelings you might have hidden beneath the surface. You also didn’t want Annie to think Remmick was no good.

“He’s kind. Not in the way that everyone's supposed to be kind. It’s natural with him, like he knows the right things to do or say, and he just does them. He ain’t always good to everyone, but he tries to be for me, I think.” Annie sighs, quietly yet meaningfully. She doesn't ask you to stop. “He’s a strange man, but I guess that's why we get on so well.”

Your sister rests her head against her hands. Exhaustion pours from her demeanor, and you wonder if you’ve said too much or too little. Then she looks at you with hopeless eyes and whispers, “I was scared it’d be like this. I was scared you’d be in love with him.”

She continues to say something, you hear her voice but can’t grasp the words. Everything felt out of touch as you tried not to panic; the fear of what this could mean ate at your heart. You weren't in love with a vampire. You weren't in love with Remmick. “No,” it's a breathless whisper. You imagined him in the other room. You see him jumping through the window, smoke flying from him as he bolts for the trees. Or maybe he's resting his head against the door, heart beating like it never has before. If you hoped it was the latter, would that mean Annie was right?

“Enough of all this nonsense. Get on home, Ann. I’m trying to do a spell, and I can’t do it with all these silly notions of love and whatnot.” Huffing, your sister takes her bag, gives you one last look, then slams the front door shut until you're alone in a kitchen lit by candles instead of the sun that pleads for entrance.

The bowl clatters on the counter as you drop it from your hands. Leo startles at the sound before taking gentle sips of water, ignoring your deep breaths. The bedroom door creaks open; you can’t look at him. You turn with your back digging into the counter and your hands covering your eyes. You aren’t helpless or sorrowful, you're frustrated. 

 If Annie was this scandalized by you loving a white man, what would she say if she knew he wasn't human? He was a dead man, a being of evil with a hunger for your flesh and blood. That very man, cursed and damned, wrapped his hands around your waist with the gentlest touch as he lifted you onto the counter, giving your weary legs a break as he settled between them.

“You ain't mad at me, are you, sugar?” You shake your head, easing his fears of your anger. “Need you to look at me, Darlin’.” Remmick pleaded, pulling your hands away from your eyes. You looked at him, disgruntled tears blurring the handsome lines of his face.

“I fucked up, Remmy. I really fucked up.” He cups your heated cheeks between his hands, analyzing every light and twitch in your eyes. Leo rubbed against Remmick's ankle but pranced off to the other room, planning to fall asleep on the warm laundry.

“What did ya’ do, baby?” Remmick stroked your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. So tender and loving, it broke you a little more. You couldn’t crumble for this man. He was not someone to be desired; he should have been immune to human emotions and off-limits to your heart.

“ I-I care for someone whose heart doesn't beat the same as mine and whose skin ain’t the same color.” You regained a bit of control, no more tears threatening to run down your cheeks, just sheer disappointment in yourself and the path you've taken. “Annie could be right, and if she is, then I’m the biggest fool in Mississippi.”

“Are you mad that I’m dead, or are you more upset ‘cause my skin ain’t like yours?” You were shaking your head, freeing your face from his loving hands. He didn’t get it—a thousand years and still a fool.

“People have died for less, Remmy. If you were a woman and I were a man, I’d be dead by now. Suppose the Klan hears about this, it ain’t just me that they’d kill. Every person of color in the area would suffer for my mess.”

He pulls your head into his chest, trying to say something that would ease your worries. Remmick knows the price for this. He remembers when couples like you were first persecuted. Over the years, he has learned one solid truth: death is the only way to end the divide.

“I’ll kill 'em all, sugar. Burn the world if that's what it takes. I’ll raise an army for ya’ and we’ll slaughter them where they stand. Nothin’ on this damned earth is gonna keep me from what I want.” It should scare you how easily he discussed killing everyone in his path, but it lit a fire within you. Powerlessness was a retched feeling, it curled in you like a cottonhead snake. With Remmick, there was power like you’d never known.

“Townsfolk are gonna call me a traitor. They think I’m fooling around with the devil.” It's embarrassing to admit.

“Well, that ain't true. We ain’t foolin’ around.” He’s playful and endearing, and you know you love him. 

“I’m not sure about that.” You sigh, lips so close to his own. Remmick’s brain doesn't have time to process your words before your lips press against his own, and he feels as though his mind has gone cloudy. You push gently against him, trying to show your feelings in one kiss.

Remmick always had something to say, always had a funny retort or a sassy response. Now all he had was his mouth as he sought after yours, passionate and rough. Like a man doomed to death, he moans against you as though he has tasted salvation; he has, and it is your lipstick mixed with the blackberries you ate before Annie broke your peace. Your lips tasted of sin and eternal life; he was tempted to bow his head in prayer.

“I’ll do whateva’ you want,” Remmick moaned into you. “I’ll kill every Klan member this side of the Mississippi.” His hips pushed into the cabinets under the counter as your hand came around his neck, gripping until he felt lightheaded. “Or I won’t leave the house. I’ll wither away in here, and you can keep me as you’d like. Ain’t nobody would find out.” 

“Why would you do that, Remmy?” You know why, your lips find his jawline, and you press them there, leaving a red print when you pull back. It matches the shade found on his lips. The world buzzes around you, for every breath Remmick takes, you do the same, matching his breathing with precision.“Why would you act like a dog tryna’ please his master?”

“Because I am.” He whined, his hands digging into your hips as you left lipstick prints all over his face. “I’ll be ya’ dog or ya’ slave, it makes no difference to me. Call me and I’ll come. Tell me to bite, and I’ll make the Delta run red. Just don’t make me leave again, sugar. Anything but that.”

You burned with it, the power he placed in your hand. A simple turn of your thumb, life and death were at your control. He would kill as you saw fit, lay waste to cities and towns if it pleased you. Behind the goofy and boyish facade was an ancient being who had survived purely through violence, lived through wars and famine, and had thrived as others dropped dead. The press of his skin against your own was proof of his violence, his ability to survive in a world that wished him dead. 

Suddenly, it was clear, he wandered the Earth looking for something or someone who could make him bow, and you were that divine being whom he’d bleed for. Men have always needed something to kill for; it's why they created their gods and their myths. They sought out violence like second nature, and in his search, Remmick had found his savior, the reason for his eternal suffering, and the cure for it all.

“Get on your knees, baby.” Your voice broke through his cloudy mind as you pulled your lips away from his own. With his face turned upwards, his gaze held your own as he descended to his knees, the beginning of his prayer. “You hungry, love? You look starved.” His hands rested on his knees, held together in reverence as you lifted one side of your nightgown, baring the flesh of your thigh. “Go on, feast.”

His tongue traced your thighs, searching for the veins hidden behind your deep flesh. When he found the one he wanted, the femoral vein within your inner thigh, his fangs pressed against you. He didn’t break the skin; instead, he watched your face, partially hidden behind the curve of your breasts. Gently, he broke your skin, feeling the warmth of your body as it welcomed his fangs inside. Warm blood rushed to greet him like an old friend. 

He could not remember all the people he drank from. There must have been at least a million faces lost to time. You would not be one of them. The flavor of you, metallic and salty, fed him like a home-cooked meal. Remmick swore he’d never tasted someone as good. Perhaps it was because you were you and he'd already been obsessed, or maybe you were naturally divine. 

Your back arched across the counter, head slamming back and aching from the sharp movement, before you pulled yourself upwards. You wouldn’t call it pleasurable; it felt like two sharp knives buried in your skin, but the sounds that fell from Remmick’s mouth brought satisfaction to your stomach. He whined and whimpered, pelvis thrusting against the cabinets. You watched his eyes when he looked at you, for once, you were able to witness the change set in. Those adoring navy blue eyes of his darkened in front of you, turning to pools of coal.

Grasping at his hair, you push him further into your thigh. “Drink up, baby.” He does just as you say. When he’s filled with you, he laps at your wounded thigh. The pulsing pain in your leg is hard to ignore until Remmick’s tongue traces further up, no longer focused on his bite mark. 

Slowly, his tongue pushes against the fabric of your panties, nudging them away from your heat. His nose brushed against the hood of your clit. Instantly, your back arched off the counter as you mewled at the touch. As soon as the sound left your mouth, he was looking at you, his chest heaving with every deep breath.

“Fuck.” Remmick groaned, instantly reaching for the top of your underwear as he yanked it down your legs, brushing your bite wound and making your legs jolt. He looks at your bare cunt, panting like a dog in summer. “Can I? Sugar, please, I need to taste ya’.”  You just barely nod before his mouth begins to leave a hot trail up to where you need him the most.

His lips suckle at your clit, a feeling you’ve never experienced before and it makes your body tingle like it’s coming to life for the first time. His tongue joins in on the torture, licking circles around you. Your hands dig into his hair with the force to rip it out, but when you catch yourself being too rough, you are quick to stroke his head in an attempt to pet the pain away.

Praises leave your throat like sobs. You tell him how good he is, how you adore him, and how he will be yours. The praise makes his tongue move quicker, more deliberate, and intentional. You’d never experienced anything like it, not to say you hadn’t explored your body before, but this was different. Your muscles spasmed, and your head bobbed up and down like you were in a drunken daze. 

Your legs wrapped around Remick's head, falling uselessly against his shoulders. He didn’t mind the weight of you on him, instead, he gripped your hips and pulled you closer to him, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. The grip of his hands around your waist and the deeper feeling of his tongue against your clit, sent you over the edge you didn’t realize you were on. Mindlessly mumbling compliments and lovestruck remarks as you felt yourself gushing against Remmick’s skilled tongue. 

Standing up, Remmick, held your head so that you wouldn't drop it against the hard counter. His hands gently cupped your hair and petted you as you came down from your high. He bent to nuzzle his nose into your neck as your breath left you in shaky pants. “You’re so good to me, sugar.” His smooth voice met your ears as he caressed you. 

With buzzing fingers, you pulled yourself off the countertop, landing on shaky legs. Remmick steadied you with a hand to your back and the other on your waist. “Wanna come to my room, baby?” You asked him, looking up with enchanting eyes that he could never say no to. Your blood flows through his veins, he feels you coursing within him, warming him and flooding his arousal. 

Instead of answering, he captured your lips within his own. His mouth was softer than a petal as it moved against yours, consuming and gentle as though he were savoring the feel of your stained lips against his own. When he pulled away, you licked where he was and could taste a combination of your arousal and blood on him.

Pulling him by one hand, you lead him into your bedroom. It is the only room in your small home that he had never been in, he’d never dared cross the threshold that would be completely you and all-consuming. As you led him through the door, he knew he had passed the point of no return.

Your room was the personification of your soul. With hanging plants, two small shelves filled with books, a few candles, clusters of crystals, and most importantly, pictures that spoke to your love and heart. As you sat on the violet-clad bed, Remmick traced his hands along your few but important belongings.

��Some pictures featured you and Annie, another showed you with her and two men who were twins. All the photos were secured by dark wooden frames except for one. He didn’t need to ask who the people were; he knew by the way your younger self was grinning. Annie and you, clearly children, with arms wrapped around one another. Standing behind you two, in front of the wooden cabin, was a man and a woman. Both of them were smiling, he noticed your features in them, and the whole picture screamed joy. That's probably why you’d chosen a more expensive, silver frame to hold the memory. 

“You gonna keep starin’ or you gonna come over here?” Remmick turned to look at you when your playful voice broke the silence. You were lying against the bed, back lifted by pillows, while the silk of your nightgown kept slipping from your shoulder and hiking up your thighs. He’d seen every wonder of the world, every perfectly sculpted statue and acclaimed painting. Nothing could compare to the sight of you, disheveled and relaxed in your bed. He jumped you without a second thought. 

A knee pressed between your parted legs, as his clawed hand wrapped around your throat. With a gentle squeeze, your breath stuttered, and your mind went blank. Remmick's gentle lips pressed against your face, caressing your skin at every spot they touched before colliding with your own. It was hungry and frantic as your lips locked together, your body buzzing from the excitement. Your hands crept under Remmick’s freshly washed wife-beater, feeling the softness of his stomach and the muscles of his chest as his heart pounded against your hand. 

“Mo dhia,” He whispered as you tried to chase his retreating lips. One of your hands buries into his dark curls as the other trails from his heart to the little patch of black hair leading past his belt buckle, and you follow it blindly.

“Mo dhia, don't stop.” You obeyed him, slowly tracing him through the fabric of his briefs. Stroking and teasing, you gulped at the realization that he was bigger than you expected. As you continue to palm him, he whimpers out words you don’t understand, but you know must be his native tongue.

“Mo chroí, I need you. Need you more than anything.” Instead of answering, your hand that has been tugging at his hair, clasps around his neck to pull his lips down to yours. Grinning into the kiss, you pull him out of his briefs so you can slowly start pumping him. He groans against your lips as you wipe your palm over his leaking tip to add wetness while you stroke him. 

Remmick forces himself to pull away from the warmth of your body. “Can’t wait, mo chroí.” He whines as he pulls his remaining clothes off, leaving him bare above your scantly clad form. Watching you with loving eyes, Remmick slowly lifts the dress from your figure before tossing it aside with his clothes.

“So beautiful. Imma’ make us one,” he begins as he parts your thighs with his strong hands. “Is that what ya’ want, sugar? Wanna be joined with me forever?" There is tenderness in his voice, his weeping cock is lined at your entrance, but he holds himself back waiting for your titillating voice to answer him.

“Forever,” you keen as he pushes into you. Slowly intertwining the two of you, inch by inch. He bottoms out, kissing the tears that fall from your eyes. You didn’t realize you were crying, you weren't in pain, but in a way, you were.

You never knew what it meant to be connected so deeply with someone; you watched from the outside as Annie and your friends fell deeply in love and had those feelings reciprocated. Sure, you loved Benny, but that was merely acceptance and contentment. This, this was passion like you’d never known, yet you could feel the weight of your love being returned in full. His heartbeat against your chest was proof.

“Fuck, I-I gotta move now, sugar.” You nod feverishly, begging him to. Slowly, you feel emptiness within you, only to be hit with simmering pleasure as Remmick thrusts back into you, hitting a pleasure point that pulls a moan from your throat. He smiles, fangs and all, as he attempts to recreate that same movement.

You whimper dumbly against his neck as he snaps his hips into you, his lone hand that does not hold him above you, trails down your body until he finds that special spot on top of your pussy. With every sensual thrust, he rubs your clit with an equally strong pressure. 

The intoxicating throbbing of Remmick moving perfectly within you leaves your skin tingling. He attempts to place loving kisses along your neck, but they are sloppy, needier than expected. As he rests his sweating head against your chest, he notices the way your breasts rise and fall and how your nipples press into his chest with every lift. Gently, he leaves your swollen clit to focus on tracing the hardened peaks. He squeezes your breast, delighting in the way your flesh spills from his hands. You grasp at his hair, squeezing hard enough to make him mewl into your neck.

“Táim i ngrá leat.” The pressure in your stomach unravels like a ball of yarn. You feel him and nothing else, the world falls beneath your feet as you call his name until your throat hurts. Remmick whispers those words, over and over again, grinding into you until you feel him spasming within you. He cries into your neck, your name falls from his tongue, a desperate prayer. Your body goes limp within his arms, he holds you as you collapse. 

“Ya’ okay, pretty baby?” Remmick whispers as he pulls out of you, his hot spend flooding out of you and coating your trembling thighs. The ringing in your ears stops, letting in the loving tone of Remmick's deep voice. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he relaxes into your bed. His hands trace circles into your hip bones while he hums a familiar tune. The very song you sang the night you found him.

“Those words, tim leat or somethin’, ya’ said it before. What’s it mean?” You rest your arms around his shoulders, twirling his dark curls with your fingers. He nudges your forehead with his own, lovingly bumping into you as his humming quiets down. Your eyes meet.

“I am in love with you.” It’s a statement, an answer, and a promise all wrapped into one sentence. Remmick smiles when your eyes water, his fangs poking out from behind his kiss swollen lips. You repeat his words, whispering them over and over as Remmick chastely kisses your temple. 

“I’m in love with ya, too.” You giggle as his stubble tickles the side of your face. Leo meows at the door, not entering the room but making his presence known. In a whirlwind, Remmick pulls the violet blankets until they cover your nude bodies. Only then do you call Leo into the room. He lands on the bed with a thump, takes one look at the two of you, then curls up with a huff. His disinterest makes both of you laugh, curling up into each other's arms again as you plot how to tell Annie the truth without giving her an aneurysm.

[belgianwafflewsyrup]

1. you, again

ningning x male! OC

word count: 1004 words

part of the series: midnight rain

August 8, 2016

"So, this is goodbye?" Dohun asked staring at the Chinese trainee on a rainy Monday night. Him fighting tears to not come out of his eyes after he heard what his girlfriend of 7 months just said, he thought his ears were deceiving him and he thought this day was not going to get any worse.

"Yeah, Dohun, I'm really sorry, I'm so sorry. But this the only way, I can't just throw away something I aim for and this is for the better," Ning said looking up at the boy whilst holding her umbrella. She loves him, she loves him so so much but she knew she can't just throw away her goal to becoming an idol for him. This was yet the hardest decision she had to make but she's thought about it and this was the only way. A man as good as Dohun doesn't deserve to be with someone like her, he was too good for her, too caring, why was he like this? Not to mention, she knew that trainees had to be careful about dating since it could reflect back to them once they debut. This was for both of them, for him and her.

Just when Dohun thought this day couldn't get worse, from him getting kicked out of the company of his dreams two weeks before his debut to his girlfriend of seven months breaking up with him. She was his first love and yet, she was the first one to hurt him like this. Meeting Ning was the first time he felt love but now, meeting her was the first time he felt heartbreak. Why? Why did this have to happen? How come all of these is happening just when he was one step closer to achieving his dream life?

Dohun was too stunned to speak, he didn't know what to say with what the Chinese trainee just told him. How come she could say all this? Did she really picked career over him? And she said all this just when he just got kicked out of one of the biggest Kpop companies… This hit the nail to the coffin for him. His heart shattered to a million pieces with what she said, he couldn't believe his first love just said all that to him. He initially thought this was a nightmare he'll wake up about soon but it was reality. He wanted to cry, get angry, but he couldn't do anything. He then uttered something to Ning before he could even hold himself back.

"So… this is the end? For us? You did this because of what CEO-nim said to you didn't you? You're not even gonna fight for us? Right after I just got kicked out of the project boy group?" Dohun muttered staring deeply at Ning's eyes, full of sadness and anger at the same time.

"No, what CEO-nim said had nothing to do with this and I'm sorry you got kicked out of the project boy group. This was merely a decision I've thought about for a long time. I love you, Dohun but… I can't throw my career away just like that," the Chinese trainee said, her eyes full of regret and sorrow knowing that this is what she only has to do.

"Ning, you can't just…" But before Dohun could continue, he noticed Ning walking away with her umbrella. "Ning? NING!"

He wanted to chase after her, hold her, and convince her to think this through but it seems his legs couldn't give in and all he could was walk back to the SM dorms, letting the rain soak him knowing the company gave him until Wednesday to pack his things and move out. He spent the entire night in the dorm packing while his tears were coming out of his eyes.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

June 6, 2025

Ningning, along with her members entered a diner. It's been a while since they've last hung out as friends due to their busy schedules and this diner was located in one of the more secluded places, giving them the reassurance that they won't get recognized. The girls got to their table while a waitress came to their table to take their orders. Once the waitress left, Aespa patiently waited for their food.

"Man, it's been a while since we hung out like this. Life is so busy nowadays," Ningning sighed, resting her head against her seat.

"What are you talking about? We are always busy," Giselle replied, looking at the younger member.

"I mean, you're right on that but at least we get some good food. I'm tired about what they serve at the company cafeteria," Karina added, her face excitedly waiting for their food to be served.

"Speaking of, it's here!" Winter jumped from excitement seeing the food arrive.

The waiter arrived to their table placing their food on the table.

"Here you go, four double chocolate milkshakes. One Belgian waffle with caramel syrup, one glazed donut, one Cinnamon Danish, and one Macadamia cookie," the waiter said with a smile before placing the food on their table. "Thank you, enjoy!" he added before walking off the table.

"Hey, Ning, isn't that your ex?" Karina asked staring at the man that just walked off.

Giselle, the only clueless one given she trained shorter than the other three girls, looked at the maknae with a confused look. "You had an ex, Ning?"

"Ning, you didn't tell her about Dohun?" Winter asked looking at the Chinese idol.

The Chinese idol looked at the three girls staring at her, giving her the look of curiosity. Seriously?

Giselle looked stunned at what Winter just said. There's no way everybody knew this other than her. This was the first time their maknae mentioned something about her love life and that's when she found out she barely knew everything about her life.

The tension around the table grew more when Dohun mentioned with Ningning completely spaced out, she hasn't heard that name in a while.

"Do… hun…?"

>>next

[randomingoftherandomness]

.

[mickyschumacher]

[CHÉRIE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: heading into ferrari for a new season, you think you're pretty focused. but things don't look too good when a series of love notes from your secret admirer start appearing out of nowhere.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: so so much fluff, poor humour, charles being corny affffff, reader is lowkey oblivious, arthur being the best brother in the world, mentions of charles' hardships with monza and monaco as well as lewis' own hardships, two idiots in love basically

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: the last fic of my series! even though it's the cheesiest thing i've written, i love cheesy shit and even better if it's with charles! i really enjoyed writing this series! it's also the most active i've been in a while so that's been really fun. leave some requests and i might just take your offer up. // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Lewis Hamilton moving to Ferrari was a shock to most. Whether it was good or bad, well that was up to the individual.  

And while Charles was very welcoming of the move, having the Lewis Hamilton as his teammate wasn’t quite the reason.  

It was you. 

Lewis Hamilton to Ferrari didn’t just bring the history, talent, and skills. It also happened to bring along his personal trainer – you.  

You hadn’t been training Lewis long. Around three years after his previous personal trainer left. There was a lot of doubt surrounding you. You were young. A bit new to the world of motorsports. And it didn’t seem like you were helping Lewis through some of his hardest years at Mercedes.  

But truth be told, underneath all of that, you happened to understand Lewis to a ‘T’. His mentality, his values, his respect, and his beliefs. They coincided with yours. Together, you could achieve the impossible, you were both sure of it. 

Unfortunately, Mercedes just had a really shitty car (and a shitty attitude). 

Cue the move to Ferrari. Which in reality was music to Charles’ ears.  

Over the past few years, Charles had managed to become friends with you. It took him a while seeing as you were slightly reserved and all over the paddock at all times. But once you had given him one of the most inspiring and encouraging talks, he had ever received after the stint Ferrari had pulled on him in Monaco, 2022 – it was safe to say you had progressed your friendship. 

To anyone with a brain and perhaps even slightly declined vision, it was plain as day that Charles was interested in you. Because someone not interested in you wouldn’t stop his interviews to say ‘Hi’ to you, get you involved in Ferrari’s YouTube videos, or walk the track every morning just so he could join you.  

2024 was an irritating year for Charles. While the SF-24 wasn’t particularly awful and Charles had still managed to win some races, there was still something missing. Not to mention, a whole Constructor’s championship. Furthermore, waiting for you and Lewis to arrive to Maranello was like telling a child to wait to open their Christmas gift – it was far too long of a wait.  

But the time had finally come. Charles had done his annual training camp and arrived to Maranello and both you and Lewis had officially settled down in the area. The first few weeks with you on the team was surreal. Charles was spending more time with you than ever. Almost every day he interrupted your lunch and sat down with you. When Lewis was in the car, he’d appear next to you, discussing smalls things like how you were finding Italy or how the car was.  

With every passing second, he spent with you, Charles was struggling to be just friends with you. Especially with the occasional rumor or ship edit of you and Lewis. Deep down, he knew there was nothing to be worried about. Lewis saw you more as a sister if anything, sharing your knowledge with him.  

It was time, however, to change this.  

Charles had planned it out carefully. Fourteen notes from your secret admirer. Plastered around all areas you visit the most within the Ferrari headquarters. One for every day up until the holiday of love itself: Valentine’s Day. 

The first five notes were relatively tame and simple, complimenting your hair or your smile or even giving you some encouragement. They were enough to get you to pull Charles and Lewis aside. 

“Guys,” you ushered, gathering the two men into a small circle. “Don’t tell anyone just yet, but for the past few days, I’ve been getting these secret notes,” you squealed quietly, holding a few of them in your hands.  

Lewis raised a brow, taking one into his hand. “Secret notes? You mean like letters from a secret admirer?” He asked, reading the note slowly.  

You paused. A secret admirer. You hadn’t really thought of the notes like that. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. “Oh... I’m not quite sure about that. They seem really sweet but I don’t think they mean it like that.” 

Charles pursed his lips together, in disbelief that he was watching his entire plan fall apart before his very eyes. “I mean... they probably do mean it like that,” he chuckled, trying to waver off his nervousness. He blinked at the staring expressions from you and Lewis. “I mean–who leaves compliments they could say to your face on paper if they don’t like you.” 

Huh. Now that you thought about it, that was a reasonable argument. “Maybe,” you agreed with a small nod, taking back the notes.  

Lewis shoved his hands in his pockets, moving his knowing glance from Charles to you. “Do you think they’ll ever reveal themselves?” 

Unbeknownst to you, Charles’ skin began heating up as you gave a small shrug. “Possibly. Who knows? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

After your conversation with Charles and Lewis, your notes were starting to become only slightly less complimentary and more poetic. 

“At night, when the world falls asleep and all is still, you take over my every thought, against my will.” 

“Your laugh is a melody of my favourite music notes I wish to hear. A song for my ears only. So soft and so warm.” 

“The smile you wear, while unnoticed by all, is one I cannot forget at all.” 

Were they cheesy and corny? Yes. Absolutely.  

But were you smiling from ear to ear? A hundred percent.  

It was getting bad now. For every note you read, your heart would race against your chest, your cheeks would flush, and the world seem to go quiet. You were sure this was exactly what this person wanted.  

You couldn’t help but try figure out who the person was. But so far, there were very little personal clues in the notes. All you knew is that the person seemed to know you quite well as every note you found were in the places you visited the most. 

“Hello,” a voice sung. 

You looked up from the laptop you were supposed to be doing work on (and not daydreaming about love letters). You grinned at the familiar face. “Baby Leclerc!” 

Arthur gave you a feigned pained expression, taking a seat next to you. “You and Charles... I swear,” he sighed, resting his head on the chair as you laughed softly. He turned his head to you. “So, I hear you’ve been getting secret notes?” 

You flickered your eyes over to Arthur. “That idiot! I told Charles not to tell anyone,” you pouted.  

Things are different when your brother sends you to deliver these same notes at six in the morning. Arthur simply smiled. “Any ideas on who it is?”  

You sighed, shutting your laptop. “Nope,” you pursed your lips. You had received ten notes in total now. You had managed to pick out a few things. “I think whoever it is likes music or plays something since I’ve had three notes about music. They also might like snow since my ‘heart is as soft as the snow.’” 

Arthur pressed his lips together on a line, trying to control his body from projectile vomiting on his brother’s corny notes. “Sound like anyone you know?” He asked, watching you carefully.  

Surely by now... 

You furrowed your brows. Music and snow. Music and snow. Music and snow. Nothing. There was nothing going through your head and Arthur could tell.  

“Well,” Arthur started, standing up from his seat. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” 

You smiled. “Hopefully.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Four notes were left and it was getting more difficult to not only convince Arthur to put them in the selected locations but to make sure you were able to see them. It was getting closer and closer to the date of the car launch. It was five days after Valentine’s Day, the day you were going to receive your last note and this game of hide and seek would finally come to an end.  

D-3 

“You guide me through all the noise and speed. When you’re here, I find all I need.” 

Noise and speed? Now you were thrown off. What did that mean? The noise and speed of what? 

But as you walked past the plethora of rooms working on every small or big part of Ferrari’s new car for the season, one cog turned in place. You halted in your steps, thinking very carefully as drills and machines vibrated throughout the building.  

Of course. The person had to be within Scuderia Ferrari. Your first thought – it could’ve been anyone. But noise and speed? That was Formula 1. That was at least all your engineers, mechanics, pit crew...  

You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, your name softly being called out. “Hey. You okay, chérie?” Charles queried, blue eyes looking down at you slightly concerned.  

You blinked, allowing a smile to grace your face even though it felt like the weight of his hand was burning your skin. You tried to keep your cheeks from heating up but any efforts were wasted. “Yeah, great,” you breathed. “Just figuring some things out.” 

Charles slowly nodded, removing his hand and allowing you to breathe again. “Okay,” he murmured, “I just wanted to ask. Make sure you eat and drink well, hmm? I don’t want you passing out on the launch.” 

You rolled your eyes, cheeks still burning. “Speak for yourself. Don’t think I haven’t seen you skipping lunch for the past week.” 

Charles grinned to himself. You noticed. Reality was that he was struggling to not just confess every time he saw you, so he thought cutting one part of his day with you would help. It didn’t. But, hey, at least you noticed.  

“You can just say you miss me. I won’t tell anyone, chérie. It’ll be our little secret,” he winked, starting to quickly walk past you in the hope you can’t see his flustered expression. 

You blinked blankly again, feeling your heart loudly beat in your chest.  

Holy shit.  

D-2  

“Even amongst the roar of the engine and the cheer of the crowd, you’re the only one I can hear.” 

So, you were right. Whoever this admirer was, they were dealing with Ferrari’s car in some shape or format. It was more likely to be a mechanic or engineer, maybe even a test driver. 

But one who liked music and snow? You couldn’t think of one person who fitted in all those categories.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lewis queried, taking a seat next to you at lunch. He mended his brows, tilting his head. “Or should I say euro?” 

You huffed, shaking your head. “Funny guy, aren’t ya?” 

“Very,” Lewis commented before nudging your shoulder. “So... what’s on your mind? A secret admirer, perhaps?” 

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “Sort of. I’m just trying to figure them out. I just wish...” 

Lewis raised a brow, turning his body to yours. “You wish...?” 

You wished Charles was your secret admirer instead.  

Sure, the notes made your day. But Charles was making your day in real life... off the paper. Just this morning, you and Charles had bumped into each other after you received your note. You were about to order your usual drink when he had ordered it for you, memorising the way you liked it exactly.  

You told him you couldn’t believe he remembered. And he responded, “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”  

The moment had left you thinking for the entire day. You hadn’t seen him since but you don’t think you could look at him without being flustered and a hot mess.  

“Nothing,” you mumbled, sighing while Lewis grinned to himself. He knew exactly what you were wishing for. 

D-1 

“For every checkered flag that waves, you’re the one I look for first. Because even in a crowded room, I’ll always look for you.” 

Checkered flags were always a mess. Seconds before the race leader would even pass, the garage and the stands were always moving, running, to the podium. It was rhythm of chaos. You never knew who was next to you. All you could feel was what it felt like in the moment.  

Silverstone 2024 was for you to remember forever. Lewis’ first win since 2021 – since you had joined him as his personal trainer. The driver to have the most wins at a single circuit and it was at his home race.  

Tears were shed that day.  

And the crowd was something you would never forget. You almost lost yourself until Lewis had found you himself, thanking you for being by his side for some of the toughest years of his life.  

But for your secret admirer to find you in a crowd of a checkered flag waves... well, they must have some good eyes.  

You were lying down on a bench with Charles seated next to you and Arthur sitting across you. All of you were on your break, soaking in the tiny bit of sun that had come out during winter. 

Your eyes were shut, protecting yourself from the sun and from melting under Charles’ gaze. You could hear Arthur call your name, making your ears perk up. “What do you look for in a guy?” 

You couldn’t see it but Charles was sending the most heaviest glare he could muster to his younger brother. Arthur simply rolled his eyes, waiting for your response. 

“That’s such a random question,” you mumbled. 

Arthur cleared his throat. You were already onto him. “I mean... well, I asked Jade after I saw a TikTok of people’s responses. She said personality which is great, I guess. Kind of unsettling news for my face though,” he murmured towards the end.  

You and Charles found yourself laughing at the scenario. Arthur was truly one of a kind. Quietening down, you realised the brothers were both waiting for your answer. “Um,” you momentarily pondered, “their soul.” 

Arthur and Charles paused. The younger brother raised a brow you couldn’t see. “Their soul? What are you, a grim reaper?” 

You chuckled softly. “It’s not that... it’s–well, I think everyone has specific types of souls. You can see it when you talk to someone and get to know them. It’s someone’s essence... the fabric of who they are.” 

Charles leaned over, face hovering over you from a safe distance. “Their souls?” He repeated out of curiosity.  

You nodded. “Yep. Everyone has one. Even you.” 

Now you had full undivided attention. “Yeah? What do you think my soul is like, chérie?” 

You opened your eyes, swallowing hard when you met those baby blues. Letting out a slow exhale, you stared at him as you thought about your answers. The words seemed to come easily to you.  

“Charles... your soul dances. Purely. Freely. It dances to every fleeting moment and to the rhythm of life. Your soul finds meaning in everything because you have the biggest heart I’ve ever known. Because you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out.” 

Charles blinked, speechless. He wasn’t sure what was more touching. Your words or your sheer seriousness. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his heart at bay.  

One more day...  

That’s all he needed to wait for 

D-DAY 

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? I don’t know about you but I hope they do.” 

You stared at the piece of paper. Souls? All of a sudden?  

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” a voice quietly greeted behind you. 

You turned your body despite knowing exactly who it was by the wave of warmth his voice had sent through you. “Hmm? Did you say something?” 

Charles pursed his lips. Shoving his hands in his pockets of his jacket and smiled. “I said Happy Valentine’s Day. You know... since it’s the fourteenth.” 

You nodded slowly, half processing his words while his dimples twinkled at you. “You too,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again. Stupid goddamn cheeks and their susceptibility to Charles.  

You watched his eyes to fall the note in your hands. “Another note?” He asked.  

You gave a small smile. “Yup.” 

Charles cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet. “What does it say today?” 

You opened your mouth, ready to start complaining. “It asks me about whether I think the universe fights for souls to be together–” 

“Well, do you?” Charles queried, softly staring at you. 

You blinked, feeling tongue-tied. “I... I-I mean yes. I’m sure the universe does but that’s not my point. My point is... is that it’s too random. Where did souls come from? This entire time it’s been music, piano, snow, noise, engines, and checkered flags... it’s so random. They’ve all been somewhat connected by now and–” 

“Chérie,” Charles called.  

“Yeah?” You responded only to be met with silence. You mended your brows together as he silently stood in front of you. Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

You felt the walls of the world close in on you as he raised his eyebrows gently. Surely not... 

Charles took a step closer to you, grabbing your hand with his. “I’m not sure about the universe, chérie. But I would love to fight for us.” 

Your mouth fell open. You think your hands were shaking. “Charles... you wrote the notes?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, hand reaching to rub the back of his neck as his own cheeks started to burn.  

“I’ve been planning it a few days after you came to Maranello. I just didn’t know how long I could be just friends with you for but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you then. If it isn’t clear yet,” he breathed in, thumb rubbing your hand gently, “I really really like you.” 

You gulped. Charles’ eyes were always soft. They changed when he raced. Like he could burn down the track. But today, they looked at you with such a warm and heartfelt intensity. It was the same one when he lost in Monaco and when he won.  

The same one you found searching for you in the crowd.  

Charles’ breath hitched as he felt you lean in. He watched you move your head, eyes falling to his lips. And just like that, he could feel your lips pressed onto the corner of his mouth. He steadied himself as you pull away, your thumb grazing his mouth gently.  

He flickered his eyes to your lips as the words fall freely. “I like you too.” 

Charles grinned, dimples popping out once again. His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist, bringing you into a tight hug. He let out a relieved exhale. “Thank God,” he murmured next to your ear. 

He could feel you laugh against him and he loved it. “What did you think I was gonna say? That I didn’t like you?” You asked with a small smile as you pulled away from his body, still in his grasp. 

Charles rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. He looked at you, taking in the moment. He gave you a small shrug. “You always make me nervous,” he sighed out.  

“Me? Make you nervous?” You gaped. “I’m pretty sure I’m shaking right now.” 

A wide smile graced his face. “I’m glad I have the ability to do that.” 

You stayed silent, unsure if you could trust yourself to speak any further. You simply smiled, cheeks still burning to react to Charles while you rested in his arms. 

“Chérie,” he called softly and this time you looked back to what was yours. 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to say something.  

“You never asked me about your soul,” he stated. 

The way he said it made the comment sound factual. But you didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” You asked.  

He laughed quietly at your confused expression. Tucking your hair behind your ears, Charles rested his hands back on your waist. “I want you to ask me what I think about your soul.” 

You fell quiet for a brief second. Christ, was he sure that you were the one making him nervous? Because he sure knew how to make you speechless.  

“Okay.” You breathed, giving him a small smile. Moving your arms to his neck, you hung them and opened your mouth. “Charles, what do you think about my soul?” 

“Chérie, you said my soul dances. But your soul... it breathes. It lives. Everywhere you walk, you give life to world. You create reason.  Everything you say and do sounds like a song. Even your silence is music. Sweetheart, you make living the most beautiful gift of life.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[jasmines-library]

Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad. 

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly. 

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience. 

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought. 

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency. 

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped. 

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit. 

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage. 

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it. 

“Who?” 

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond. 

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth. 

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack. 

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone. 

~

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin. 

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion. 

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped. 

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.” 

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

~

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge. 

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up. 

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.” 

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see. 

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again. 

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching. 

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail. 

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place. 

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched. 

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black. 

~

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls. 

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon. 

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city. 

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you. 

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically. 

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away. 

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself. 

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest. 

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety. 

~

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely. 

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke.  You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over. 

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke. 

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged. 

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. 

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle. 

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[excusetowrite]

Let Him In (3)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Summary: As night gives way to dawn, our actress and Jack finally cross the threshold of temptation they’ve been toeing for weeks. In the blood-smeared haze of desire and secrecy, the line between performance and reality vanishes. What begins with teasing glances and unsaid truths explodes into something primal, possessive, and deeply intimate. Behind a locked door, with their castmates just outside, they risk everything to chase the hunger they’ve been denying. But when the sun rises, it’s not just their bodies that have been laid bare—it’s their truth.

Warnings: Minors DNI. This is what you've all been waiting for. Sex, obviously, I know you'll read it anyways, so see for yourself >:) Also, do you guys think there's more to this story? Struggling to decide if I want to end it here, I've grown quite attached.

The Way We Burn

As soon as they yelled cut and Jack left to get his prosthetics removed, I bolted.

The moment I was off set, the humiliation hit—settling deep in my bones. He knew. Saw right through the last bit of composure I had left. I struggle to see if he’s acting half the time, to find the reason behind any of his actions, yet he’d figured out the one thing I was desperate to keep hidden. If it was that obvious, I must look like a complete fool—not just to him, but to everyone.

He didn’t try to come to my trailer that night. When I heard the knock, my heart skipped. Maybe it was him. Maybe he wanted to talk, to laugh it off, to say I’d imagined everything.

But it wasn’t Jack—it was just a PA coming to tell me that they had to move stuff around and we’d be reshooting some of the "Rocky Road to Dublin" scene on account of the sunrise being in some of the shots from last time. I wouldn’t even have known what to say. “Sorry for being a creep”? “Sorry for liking it too much?” At least thinking about how hard that scene was to shoot the first time helped take my mind off things. It didn’t help me figure out how I was going to manage showing my face tomorrow night. I curled up under the covers, but sleep didn’t come. I kept seeing his eyes—not the red ones, not Remmick’s. His. And I had no idea how I was supposed to look him in the face tomorrow night.

—

The sticky, sweet blood clings to my skin, and the fake teeth and tinted contacts ache in all the wrong ways. But at least I’m not suffering alone—everyone else on set is just as miserable. The first time we filmed this scene we only had an hour and a half before the sun rose. Tonight, we were able to start at midnight. Hailee and I were the last to leave hair and makeup and get to set. When we arrived, Jack was in full, glorious costume, practicing. As hard as it was for the rest of us, this was easily his hardest scene to film.

I was scared for when he’d look at me. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt—how hollow it would feel—until it happened. Not a single stolen glance, not a shared smile, not even a wave. Complete and deliberate avoidance. I must have been brooding too long while we waited on our marks in the inner part of the circle because Hailee looked between the two of us and must have sensed the tension.

She leaned in, the bustle of everyone around us covering her words. “You okay?”

I snapped my attention to her, not realizing how out of it I had been. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?” I rolled my shoulders back and started stretching, trying to seem as casual as possible.

“Because you and Jack have been attached at the hip for the past two months, and now you won’t even look at each other,” she said, eyebrows raising.

I let my mouth hang open a moment while I tried to think of something to say. All I could think about was how his breath had felt on my neck, how real it all had seemed. “Filming that scene yesterday didn’t go so well,” was all I managed. A half-truth. It went really well. Too well—for me at least. I guess that was the problem. I enjoyed it too much. God, he probably thinks I’m such a fucking pervert. Flirting is one thing. What I was hiding is a whole other.

Her eyes widened and she nodded, looking away before swinging back to say, “But I heard you guys actually did really good—”

“It didn’t go well,” I cut her off, glancing up at him. Still looking anywhere but where I was.

We started a few minutes later, and I knew we’d all be exhausted by morning—especially Jack. So many angles were needed. So many takes. We all moved and sang the whole time. At least this time they wanted to add some changes from the first shoot. The digital release would have extra scenes, including at this point—Stack and Mary dancing together as the circle spun around, for instance.

We’d become a real family out here. And tonight, we were having fun—the kind you only get once. I tried to forget about him, just for a little while. To enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience: dancing and singing with close friends, filming a major motion picture. Ryan said he loved how we were getting into it and to lean more into the enjoyment, so we did. I threw my head back in a full-bellied laugh, spinning through the circle, my skirt swishing wildly around my legs. Even Jack grinned, though Remmick's joy came with a flicker of something darker, more possessive.

The music was loud—Jack at the center, clapping and singing, leading the rest of us with infectious energy. Stack and Mary danced next to me, giggling into each other, when all of a sudden Michael passed her to Bert with a yelp and a giggle and grabbed my waist and hand, pulling me into a dance. I threw my head back and laughed, letting him lead me in the enthusiastic jig. He pulled me in close. We dipped and spun, laughing through it like kids. His arm tightened naturally around my waist, his hand resting low on my hip as he spun me again. It was genuine—we may have been covered in blood and sweating our asses off in the middle of the night, but we were doing it together. Having the time of our lives.

I didn’t feel his eyes at first. I was too caught up in the motion, in the sweat and music. When Michael spun me back into him, still laughing, that’s when I saw it. Jack’s expression had soured. Whatever flicker of joy Remmick had been wearing was gone. He scowled—at me. At us. As soon as we made eye contact, he set his jaw hard and looked away, continuing on with the scene.

We wrapped that scene in the early morning hours, completely exhausted. Everyone still clapped and cheered, whooped and hollered. We’d done it again. I watched from the sideline as so many people praised Jack, and he responded with half nods, polite smiles, and quiet thanks. He looked gracious—maybe even bashful to anyone else. But I saw it. The tension in his jaw. The way his smile didn’t reach his eyes. To anyone else, it looked like he was just being humble. To me, it looked like he was more upset than I’d ever seen him.

I waited for Hailee to walk to hair and makeup with me, needing the extra support. She made her way over, laughing as she came, and let out a relieved sigh as she linked her arm through mine and we began to walk.

We didn’t get far before he stepped into our path, eyes still averted. We stopped abruptly as he said, “Can we talk?” Hailee eyed me from the side, trying to gauge my reaction. I just looked at him, not knowing whether to be frustrated or relieved.

“I’m tired and sweaty and I want to get out of costume,” I said, landing on frustration.

He looked at me then—really looked at me. Soft, pleading eyes. “Please,” he said quietly.

I folded immediately, nodding and slipping my arm from Hailee’s. She didn’t let go right away. Her fingers lingered against mine in a silent warning. I looked at her and said, “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

She nodded back apprehensively. As she walked away, she said, “Watch for gators. Or worse.”

We stood there in front of each other for a moment while people continued to file past us off set. He motioned for me to follow him, so I did. We walked toward the dilapidated building that was the old sawmill—Club Juke.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I looked behind us, most everyone having cleared off set. Being all alone over here by the water was creepy, and Hailee's warning rang through my head.

“A private word, please,” he said as he opened the door and let me walk in. It was dark inside, not lit up and staged for filming. The room smelled faintly of dust, wood rot, and old paint. The silence buzzed louder than the music ever had. I walked into the center of the room as he closed and latched the door behind us. I turned on my heel before he could even speak, breath already catching in my throat. 

“Jack, I’m sorry,” I blurted, guilt finally winning out. He started walking toward me, but my apology stopped him cold. Confusion clouded his face—and just like that, my courage drained away.

"You're sorry?" he asked, brow furrowed. I began to feel unsteady, the look on his face melting away the courage I had built up.

"Yeah, for—you know," I said, but he just continued to look at me the same way. I shuffled my feet and averted my gaze, heat rising to my cheeks. "For—you know, not telling you about the smut and stuff." He was silent for a few moments, which did nothing to ease my anxiety. I finally looked up at him when I really started to feel like I was melting under his gaze, and he laughed—really laughed—as soon as our eyes met.

"That’s what you think this is about?"

It was my turn to be confused. "Yes?" He continued to laugh, a sort of exasperated sound, before coming toward me. I hadn’t realized how used to him being in my space I had grown, how much of a relief it was to have him close again. I sucked in a breath and exhaled at the scent of him.

"No," he said. "I mean, confirming that it was me was part of the problem, but not like that." He was just within arm’s reach now, close but still hesitant as he looked me over.

"Then what was it like?" I asked quietly.

"Can’t you see?" he said, sighing when I didn’t respond, just stared at him wide-eyed. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he said, voice low. "Not as her. Not as Maggie. You. I’m fucking obsessed, and it’s driving me mad."

I stood there, too stunned to speak, my mouth slightly agape. My heart stuttered. I thought I was bracing for anger—mockery, maybe. But not this.

"I thought you’d think I was messed up for it—for hiding something like that. I thought you thought I was a pervert," I finally said, earning a chuckle from him.

"A pervert?" He raised his eyebrows. "I mean, you are, I guess. But I—I'm the true pervert. I can hardly be around you without feeling—feeling the way I feel. It scares me."

I stepped forward, almost closing the distance, and raised my hand to his bicep. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh at the touch, the scent, the proximity.

"How do you feel?" I asked softly, looking up at him. Both of us still in all our makeup.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me before responding in the same tone. "I can’t tell where I start and he begins sometimes." I continued to look at him, trying to understand. "You’re all I think about—all day. The next time I’ll see you. The next time I’ll touch you. I get so excited just to film scenes so I have an excuse to be near you. And I—I get so jealous. So angry. It scares me how angry I get. That’s why I’ve been pulling away. I haven’t felt normal. I’ve never felt the way you make me feel, and it terrifies me. Watching him touch you tonight—hold you, dance with you, laugh with you, fucking look at you—made me the angriest I’ve ever been. I told myself it was just the role at first, toeing the line of method acting too closely. But I realized yesterday I’d been lying to myself. I’m utterly fuckin' obsessed with you. Absolutely infatuated. You’re all I think about. All day, all night," he admitted, a slight flush blooming on his cheeks.

I blinked up at him, warmth rising to my throat. How had I not seen it? I’d been so deep in my own head, I missed all the signs. I stared up at him as his eyes searched my face for any of the answers I didn’t have.

"Say something," he begged.

"I feel the same way," I blurted out.

"What?"

"I’ve always been attracted to you, obviously. Getting this role is the best thing that ever happened to me. But ever since I found out it was you I’d be working with like this, I’ve been struggling. I was grateful just to be near you—any excuse to be touched by you, to have your attention. I think about you in ways I shouldn’t. All day. All night, too," I added sheepishly. "Yesterday was the best sex I’ve never had. And that’s saying something."

He continued to look at me as if in disbelief before sharing, "How I felt yesterday scared me. That’s why I pulled away. For the first time, I couldn’t separate myself from him—not unless I pulled away entirely."

Something in his eyes—hope or hunger or heartbreak—I didn’t know. But I wanted to give in to it. Just this once. I waited a few beats before whispering, "Then don’t."

"Don’t what?" he asked.

"We can pretend. For one night, we can pretend," I said, sliding my hand to rest over his blood-covered chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath.

He let out a deep sigh and rolled his head, fighting some internal struggle before looking down at me. Me, staring up at him—doe-eyed and full of trust and arousal. He grabbed my hips and pulled my body flush with his. I could finally feel the proof of just how badly he wanted me.

"Are you sure?" he asked, so quietly I could barely hear. I nodded up at him.

"I need to hear you say it," he demanded softly, his hand going to my hair, gripping gently but firmly.

“Yes,” I breathed out as he pulled my head to the side, “Remmick.”

He groaned, and then he was on me.

At my neck. The sob of relief I let out was palpable—a lifetime of frustration and yearning. He kissed, sucked, bit—blood and teeth be damned. I didn’t care if he left marks. I’d waited too long for this. 

His hands slid from my waist to where my shirt was tucked in and as he moved to kiss me on the mouth his hands slipped under the band of my skirt, and in one smooth motion, he peeled off my blouse and tossed it aside. I knew it was warm but the air against my suddenly exposed skin sent a chill down my back and goosebumps down my arms. The air kissed every inch of skin like it was claiming me.

We kissed fast and feverishly, his teeth gently biting down on my lower lip, demanding entrance, which I gladly granted. I could taste the blood on him—we were both covered in it. We kicked off our shoes before he grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up against him, carrying me to the only open door—the room where Sammy and Pearline fool around. I could feel his hardness pressing against me as we walked, could feel his strong arms wrapped around me. As we kissed, he made quick work of unclasping my bra and slinging it somewhere behind us. We both smiled into each other as we went.

In the room, he set me back down on my feet before him, and I stared into his eyes as he slung his suspenders off and lifted his shirt over his head. I let out a frustrated sigh at the blood running down his neck and chest—at the marks I had left just yesterday. Before he could finish, I unclasped my skirt, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in just the red panties I had put on that morning. He groaned, low and deep, looking me over from top to bottom.

"Lie down," he demanded, and I obliged. The backs of my knees hit the table as I sat, then laid back, legs still dangling. "Put your arms above your head like you did yesterday." I did as I was told, the movement giving him a better view of the blood covering my breasts. I smiled up at him, all teeth, as he palmed himself while looking down at me. 

I went to move, to say, "Let me take care of that—" but he cut me off by gently but firmly pushing me back down and kneeling before me.

"No, I take care of you first," he said, as he slid his fingers through my waistband and pulled the red panties down my bare legs. Finally, I was laid before him in my entirety—exactly where I was supposed to be. He must have been thinking the same thing because he said, "Look at me. Don’t look away."

I did as I was told and felt two fingers slide through my slick folds. I let out a moan and threw my head back—and immediately, he pulled away. A groan left my mouth as I looked down at him, frustrated.

"I told you not to look away." I nodded in understanding and, this time, held eye contact as he reslicked his fingers. He rose above me, leaning in close as he said, "I want to see you when I enter you for the first time." He hovered just above my face—too far to kiss, just close enough to stare, enthralled. Then, slowly, he slid two fingers into me. I gasped, and he groaned.

"God, you’re so tight. So wet for me too." I nodded as I struggled to maintain eye contact. His eyes searched my face as he pumped his fingers in and out like he was fascinated—enthralled with the control he had over me.

His thumb slid up to begin rubbing circles around my clit, earning a deep moan of satisfaction from me.

"Can I please touch you?" I begged.

He nodded, so I reached up to touch him—any part of him. I tried to pull him down to kiss me, to feel more of him, but he didn’t budge. So I turned my head and began kissing his arm where it was braced next to my head. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he moaned at the mess I was making of his arm.

He knew just how to touch me, like he’d spent years figuring it out. My orgasm coiled tighter in my belly, seconds away from tipping over—when he stopped. Just stopped. I gasped, then groaned in frustration. He only smirked as he began to move down my body, his hands trailing over my breasts and down my stomach, smearing blood as he went.

He began to kneel between my legs, spreading me open. The floor creaked beneath his weight, grounding the dizzying heat in something real.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m tasting you the first time I make you cum.”

The sight of him between my legs was almost enough to send me over the edge already. I half sat up on my elbows as he placed one of my legs over his shoulder, one hand wrapping under me to rest on my abdomen, the other sliding two fingers into me again. I moaned in satisfaction and threw my head back as he slowly began to pump in and out. He was so close to starting—I could feel his warm breath against where I so desperately needed his mouth—instead trailing kisses up and down my thighs getting closer and closer.

Before he began, he admitted, “I was so close yesterday. I could smell you, see how wet you were for me. I was under your skirt—no one would have known if I had just—”

And there it was, finally. The soft contact I so desperately needed. His fingers pumped into me with perfect rhythm as his tongue lapped and sucked at my clit.

I brought my hand down into his hair and tugged him closer, earning a deep growl that vibrated through me. I was already close, moaning loudly and lewdly, when I looked down and saw him looking up at me. His gaze commanded mine, like he knew every tell I had. I stared into his eyes as I came for the first time.

He didn’t stop. He removed his fingers, raising them to my lips for me to suck clean. I didn’t need him to tell me—I just did. I tried to stay still, but his tongue quickly drove me to overstimulation. That’s what the other arm was for. He held me firmly in place, my thighs squeezing around his head, my hands trying desperately to push him away as I gasped for air.

“Pl–please–Jack–I’m gonna—”

His hand—no, his palm—suddenly covered my mouth. I bit down hard as I came again, the only thing keeping me from truly screaming. White-hot pleasure burst through my body, stealing my vision, making me shake. He kept going just a moment longer, then finally stopped, sensing my limits.

I lay there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling. After what felt like hours—but was only seconds—I sat back up on my elbows and looked at him. He knelt between my legs, smirking, blood on his face and chin now mixed with me.

“Don’t know how I’m going to explain this to the costume department,” he said.

A confused look crossed my face as I glanced down to where he was looking. His chest was dripping wet, his pants soaked. My eyes widened. “I’m so sorry—I couldn’t control it. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

His smug satisfaction only deepened. “Aye, don’t be sorry,” he said, rising to stand. “I’d rather tell them I pissed myself than have you apologize for that.”

He was still talking, but my eyes locked on the large bulge now at eye level. My mouth watered, all the relief I’d just felt was gone, replaced with raw need. He moved to grab my skirt for me, but I caught his arm.

“Jack, Jack, I need more,” I begged.

He slowed, looking at me as he shook his head. "You don’t owe me anything—"

"Please, Remmick. I need you."

His eyes darkened as he dropped the skirt, hands immediately going to his belt buckle and unclasping it in one swift motion. I reached up to grab at his pants, tired of him doing all the work. Let me do something. I needed to do something. He let me unbutton him, let me pull the rest of his clothes off and toss them to the side. Now we were even. He stood before me, hungrily looking down at me.

And I met that hunger. Reached for it. Owned it. I was fully sat up now, looking up at him wide-eyed. He wasn’t going to make the first move. He wanted me to. So, I reached out and grabbed him, stroking the bead of precum down his shaft tentatively, testing the movement. His head rolled back, eyes closed as he let out a deep groan of satisfaction. I continued for a few strokes, gaining my footing, before I took him into my mouth.

He gasped, hand flying to my hair to rest there, nestled in and guiding me. His groans were loud. I tried my hardest not to hurt him with my teeth—I must have been doing a good job because before I knew it, he was yanking my head away.

"Love, if you want to go any farther tonight, you have to stop that now. If not, I’m going to finish."

My only response was to lay back, scooting my butt as I went until I was fully laid on the table, spreading my legs wide for him and maintaining eye contact.

"Fucking Christ," he breathed before climbing onto the table and over me, nestled between my legs, one arm braced beside my head, his other hand stroking himself lightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked one last time.

I bit my lip and nodded.

"Then beg," he whispered, low in his throat. There he was above me—red eyes and all. The obsessive man I had become obsessed with.

I breathed the words into the space between us, trembling with need. "Please, Remmick. Please fuck me."

His brow pressed into mine as he slid into me, both our eyes going wide. No gasp, no moan—just my mouth hanging open in stunned, stretching pleasure as I adjusted to the size of him. Before I knew it, he was moving, slowly at first, head nestled in the crook of my neck planting kisses and love bites. I turned my head against his cheek, feeling his jaw scrape against my skin, slick with sweat, spit, blood—us. I moaned quietly in his ear. Small, lewd moans only for him.

His thrusts became harder, drawing louder sounds from me as he kissed up my neck to my ear, scraping his fangs lightly as he went.

"Tell me you’re mine," he whispered.

I turned my head to look him in the eyes. "I’m yours. I’m yours, Jack. I’ve always been yours."

I saw the softness return—the man I had spent countless nights with, laughing in my trailer and on set. I saw admiration—more than that—love, as he looked down at me. Then his lips were tenderly on mine, and we stayed there for a while, kissing passionately as our pleasure built.

"Fuck," he groaned, suddenly sitting up. He was now kneeling between my legs, hands gripped tightly on my hips, looking down at me as he thrust. So similar to the position we were in yesterday—his face the exact same, chest heaving hard. The sight of him there, still in costume as Remmick, nearly pushed me over the edge.

He grabbed my legs and lifted them onto his shoulders before leaning down over me again, the position allowing him to reach impossibly deep. I never knew I was this flexible, but God, am I thankful to find out. I was close to my third, and I could tell he was close too.

That’s when we heard it.

"Jack!" Hailee called from nearby outside. He slowed, frustration furrowing his brow. I reached for his hips, desperately grasping for him to keep going, but it was clear he was going to stop. I let out a groan—but then, my name. Not Hailee—Michael called my name from outside.

He stilled, eyes flashing with irritation, the sound of my name on someone else’s lips slicing through the air. They had come to look for us after we didn’t show up to get out of hair and makeup. Jack's whole body tensed over me—and then he began to move again, faster than before.

They were just on the other side of the door. One wrong sound and they'd know. But it did nothing to slow Jack down.

Then they were at the door of the Mill. It was locked from the inside, but they still pulled on it and tried to get in. I was so close—so impossibly close. He was pounding into me at an impossible speed, at an impossible angle. My hand flew to cover my mouth as I began to reach my climax, and immediately it was yanked away and pinned above my head. I bit my lip, hard, looking up at him, searching for answers.

He was moaning loud, seemingly on the edge, and all he said—breathless and feral—before spitting on his fingers and reaching down to rub my clit was, "Mine."

I came—hard—screaming his name. I couldn’t help it. The same white-hot flash tore through me, a thousand times more intense than the last. He must have been waiting, or the feeling of me finishing pushed him over the edge too, because as soon as I was done riding it out, he was right behind me.

From outside, I heard Michael say, "Oh, shit." Hailee's laugh followed, fading as they walked away.

My legs were gently lowered as he collapsed on top of me, chest heaving, still inside me. I breathed heavily too, my hand running gently through his hair as his head rested on my rising and falling chest. Finally, he looked up at me.

I raised an eyebrow. "Was that really necessary?"

He chuckled. "No, probably not—but we were pretending, remember?"

"Hmm," I said, trailing my hand along his chest and arm mindlessly. "And are we still pretending?"

He waited a moment, trying to read my face. "That depends on how badly you don’t want everyone to know about us. Because—they’re gonna know."

"I’m fine with everyone knowing. Just feel like there might’ve been a better way to tell them, is all."

We both laughed, and he brought his hands up to caress my face. That’s when I noticed his hand—the blood. Real blood. I grabbed it to look at the puncture marks where I had bit him.

"Jack, you’re bleeding," I said, worried.

He chuckled, pulling his hand away nonchalantly. "Small price to pay for making you squirt."

We both laughed again, and he added, "Gonna have to explain that to costumes too, ‘cause I definitely got blood on me trousers when I was admiring my work."

I smirked at him. I should’ve felt embarrassed—but instead, I just felt... satisfied. For the first time in a very long time, if ever.

We laid there for a while, me on his chest, his hand in my hair, just feeling each other breathe. Listening to the sound of his heart.

"Sun’s coming up," he pointed out. And indeed, through the open door, I could see the line of sunlight starting to stretch across the room beyond.

I began to move. "Fuck, we gotta get these costumes back—they’re gonna be pissed," I said, rummaging around for my clothes, Jack close behind me.

"Yeah, and these contacts are really starting to hurt my eyes," he said with a laugh, pulling on his pants.

I chuckled at him sideways and tossed him his shirt.

I followed him to the door. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at me before unlocking and opening it. Then he turned to me, smile softening as he reached out his hand. I took it gently—and together, still marked and aching—we stepped out and into the rising sun.

[wcnderlnds]

last dance [part two] | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: weeks after the breakup and you're miserable without seunghyun but maybe a bigbang concert will make you feel better ・❥・word count: 2k ・❥・warnings: angst and fluff!! ・❥・ authors note: finally part two!! i'm sorry it took me so long. i've been going through a major depression patch lately but i'm slowly trying to get back into writing. hopefully you enjoy <3

PART ONE

The weeks seemed to pass by slower without Seunghyun. Time felt like it was torturing you, making you suffer for letting him go so easily. Waking up everyday and turning around to see the empty spot in your bed was one of the most heart wrenching things you’d ever experienced. Usually, you’d turn around and wake up to his smiling face or, if he’d had an early wake up call, he’d tell you to text him when you woke up so he could order you food. Mornings felt empty without him; the whole day felt empty, actually. There was a massive void in your life but it was one you were going to have to get used to. You both wanted different things and as much as you wanted to be with him, you couldn’t be. He didn’t want the things that you did – in the end, it was for the best. Right now, though, it hurt like hell.

It didn’t help that Seunghyun had left you a drunken voicemail just days ago. Since the goodbye in the back of the car, you’d pretty much had no contact apart from when he’d come to collect some of his things. All you knew right now was that he was staying with Jiyong, leaving the house that you had shared together to you. He was on a night out with the guys when he’d called you. It had taken several missed calls from him – each time you had been tempted to answer – before he left that one drunk message that you had replayed almost every single day since.

“Hey, baby, hey. So, this break-up? Stupid. So stupid. I love you so much. Like, I can’t think of anything but you and, shit, fuck it, I’d go out and buy an engagement ring right now and propose to you if I could but… baby, I miss you. I miss you so much it physically hurts. I can’t sleep, I don’t want to do anything and I know this is my fault. It’s my stupid fault because I can’t be the man that you need. I love you. I will always love you. My heart is yours forever…”

He must have got cut off at the end because before he could say anything else, the phone was hung up. Each time you listened to it, your heart beat a little bit faster. The sincerity in his voice made your head spin, the way his voice had broken each time he said he loved you. All you wanted to do was run to him, wrap your arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. At this point you were sure a hug from Choi Seung-Hyun would heal you. It had before and it would again. Except, now you couldn’t. That was the thing that hurt the most. Not only had he been the love of your life, he was also your best friend so now you had to grieve that, too.

Things weren’t okay but, eventually, they would be.

*****

Today was the day you’d been dreading. There was a BigBang concert that you’d tried your hardest to get out of attending but Youngbae had been persistent. It would be nice to get out of the house at least. Maybe some fresh air could clear your mind. All you had to do was try and avoid your ex. Easy, right?

Nope, not at all because of course he was the first person you saw when you were trying to get backstage. For some reason the stupid security guard wouldn’t let you through even though you had your pass – which Youngbae had given you – visible for all to see. As you stood there arguing with the security, being very adamant that you were on the list to be here, a flash of pink hair popped up beside the guard. Your breath caught in your throat – it was the first time seeing him for weeks and he was still as breathtaking as ever. You cut yourself off mid sentence, not really registering what was happening but Seunghyun must have said something to the security because before you knew it he was stepping aside to let you in. 

All you could do was stand and stare at your ex-boyfriend; the love of your life. There he was right in front of you, a frown on his beautiful face. Knowing him better than anyone meant that you could tell he was miserable. Most people wouldn't see it but it was all over his face. It was hard to fight the urge to throw yourself at him and wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. There was no way you could look into those deep brown eyes of his and not crumble.

Seunghyun was about to speak but before he could, Jiyong rolled up, noticing the awkward tension. You had never been more thankful for him. If he hadn’t shown up surely you would have embarrassed yourself. “Seunghyun, Daesung wanted to talk to you. He’s in the dressing room.”

Seunghyun looked at you like he wanted to say something to you but decided against it, heading off down the hallway to talk to Daesung. Jiyong pulled you in for a hug and finally you relaxed. Jiyong was one of the people you felt the most comfortable with – the whole band was. It was a very much needed hug but in the back of your mind you couldn’t help but think that it was the wrong person giving you it.

“Thanks. I was probably two seconds away from making a dumb decision,” you laughed sadly, pulling away from your friend.

“Yeah, he probably was, too. He’ll be pissed when he realises Daesung didn’t actually want to talk to him but he’ll live,” he threw his arm around your shoulder, leading you down the hallway. “Happy you’re here. Youngbae worked his butt off to get you here. We miss you.”

“I miss you all, too. It’s just… awkward. I don’t want to make things weird by being around all the time. Seunghyun needs you.”

“You need us, too. We can be there for the both of you.”

“Yeah but… I just need you to make sure he’s okay, you know? We both know that he gets in his head and I don’t want him to spiral.” You looked at Jiyong with pleading eyes. All you ever wanted for Seunghyun was for him to be happy. You knew how much he struggled and got in his own head. He had always been so sensitive to the world, so attune to his own feelings and often got lost in them. He needed the support more than you did. You would be fine on your own.

“I know, don’t worry. We’ll make sure he’s okay,” he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I promise.”

*****

The show went off without a hitch. The boys were amazing as usual. There was no doubt in your mind that they deserved all the success they had and so much more. Every show they put their all into, giving their fans everything they had. It often resulted in exhaustion but you knew none of them cared. As long as their fans went home happy, that was what mattered. Putting smiles on people’s faces was their main goal and they definitely did that. Hearing all the screams and cheers made your heart soar; it definitely lifted your mood until reality came crashing back down.

After the show you knew the guys usually went for a bite to eat before heading back to their hotel rooms. So, you’d decided to sneak out making a mental note to send texts to Youngbae, Daesung and Jiyong later. You just couldn’t bear to face Seunghyun let alone sit and have dinner with the four of them. The tension between you and him would bring the mood down and they deserved to ride their high for as long as they could. With your jacket firmly on, you headed towards the back door to head out but you were stopped when slender fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. As you turned you came face to face with Seunghyun. His hair was a mess from the show, sweat dripping down his forehead. He must have literally ran right off the stage to catch you. His touch was making your heart beat faster, memories of the goodbye in the car came flooding back to you. It was like there was no coherent thought in your head right now as he looked at you with determined eyes.

“Don’t leave. Not yet. I… I need to say something,” he rushed, still holding onto you as if scared you’d run the second he let you go.

“Seunghyun…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. It was all you could say. If you dared speak more, you’d be a blubbering mess.

“If you stop me, I won’t say it and I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to again so… please just listen.” He paused, letting you nod your head before he continued. “I love you. I love you so much that it’s killing me to be apart from you. I don’t know how to get through the day without you and it’s made me realise that… I don’t want to. I want you by my side every single day for the rest of my life. I was stupid, okay? I was so, so, so stupid. I want you and I want a future with you. You’re going to think I’m crazy and… I definitely am but…”

In one swift motion, he dropped down to one knee, fishing out a small box from the pocket of the pants he was wearing. He opened it up to reveal a diamond ring, the box shaking slightly as he held it showing you how nervous he was to do this. “Marry me?”

Shock consumed you. Words couldn’t leave your lips but as you looked down at his pleading eyes you knew right then and there that he meant it. Seunghyun wore his heart on his sleeve especially when it came to you. “I….do you mean it? I-I thought you didn’t…”

“I mean it. I really fucking mean it.” It was the determination in his voice that sold you. “I’m terrified, I won’t lie but I can’t lose you. I need you.”

“...yes, I’ll marry you.” You breathed out, pulling him up to his feet to kiss him softly on the lips. God, it felt so good to do that after all these weeks. It was like all the tension was leaving your body, your heart finally being where it needed to be – with him. “I’m scared, too. We don’t have to get married right away, okay? We can wait for as long as we want. Just knowing that you see a future with us is all I need. That’s all I wanted.”

He smiled, sliding the ring onto your finger, holding it up so he could look at it. “I did good.”

“Yeah, okay,” you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping him on the chest. “I missed you. Guess you weren’t lying about buying an engagement ring in that drunken voicemail, huh?”

His cheeks tinted red as he remembered the message. “Well, you know what they say. Drunk thoughts are sober words or whatever. Missed you more, though,” he sighed, his hand cupping your face, gazing lovingly at you. His lips met yours in another slow, passionate kiss. His thumb rubbing softly against your cheek as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss. You were almost certain he was about to back you up against the wall and give everyone a show until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Pulling away, you turned to see Daesung, Youngbae and Jiyong standing there. Jiyong raised a brow, a knowing smirk on his face. “Can we go get food now or are you going to stand here trying to eat each other's faces?”

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @infinetlyforgotten @sherrayyyyy @come-as-you-are-111 @maskedcrawford

[demonpiratehuntress]

mistletoe

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader

summary - jumping on the mistletoe bandwagon, their reactions to finding themselves under the mistletoe with you

warnings - none

a/n: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! I don't but I wanted to wish everyone else :)

ZORO

You would be lying if you said you didn't plan all week mostly trying to get Zoro under mistletoe with you. Coming up with excuses to get him in a doorway seemed near impossible, but after a very long few days of thinking, you had your plan set.

"Zorooooooo~"

The swordsman groaned, knowing exactly what that sing-song call meant for him. It could only spell mischief, and he popped open an eye to peer at you curiously.

"What do you want, woman?" He grumbled.

You pouted, "Come onnnnn, lighten up! It's Christmas!" You tugged on his arm. "Pleaseeee?"

He sighed loudly, "Fine."

He let you pull him up and drag him along, silently cursing his willingness to go along with whatever silly endeavor you chose for each day. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to just sleep, he loved you enough to participate in your silly antics.

When you suddenly stopped and pointed upwards, Zoro was confused. Then he looked up, and his eyes found some mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe.

"Seriously?" He looked back at you, frowning.

You rolled your eyes, "Fine, I'll go get Sanji."

That was enough to make him growl and grab your waist, tugging you forward so you were against his chest. You giggled innocently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You're so annoying," he complained, but kissed you anyway.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, pouring as much love as he could into it. Usually these kisses were brief, but he drew it out and kissed you for longer than you expected, effectively knocking the wind out of you when you pulled away.

"Now can I nap in peace?"

ACE

This man right here is perhaps the only one in this list that does not need to be dragged under it. He is the one carrying it around, putting it over two people's heads randomly and then running off giggling when they yell and chase him. But he will also put it over your head and his, although it took him a few tries.

"(Nameeeee)! Look what I got!"

Your energetic boyfriend bounded into the room you were busy in, holding something behind his back. He pouted when you didn't even look up, before repeatedly tapping your arm to get your attention.

"(Name), (Name), (Name)..."

He's like a little kid. So eventually you give in and look at him, only to see him raise something and hold it above yours and his heads. You blush madly upon seeing what it was, feeling butterflies form in the pit of your stomach. The fiery commander smiled innocently, and you couldn't help but giggle as you pulled away from your work to indulge him, wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

"Well, look what we have here," you smirked.

"I know, what a coincidence," he shot you a goofy grin, leaning in.

"I'm not complaining."

You crashed your lips against his, kissing him fiercely and hotly. He reciprocated immediately, making sure to keep the mistletoe hanging above as he cupped your cheek in his free hand, smiling against your lips. He loved kisses like these, energetic and passionate but also loving and adoring.

"That was by far the best response I've gotten to hanging this over people's heads."

"Oh my god, Ace!" you giggled, realising why everyone had been out for Ace's blood today. You shook your head at his antics, pecking his lips one more time before going back to work.

LAW

The complete opposite of Ace, Law is the hardest to get under the mistletoe. He is always cooped up in his room, working, and barely leaves. So you have to do some really deep thinking and planning to get this stubborn man to kiss you under the mistletoe.

Of course, he has to leave his room for meals, so you decide to strike at breakfast on Christmas.

You failed to account for the fact that Law was the most observant person to ever exist, and that he would easily spot the mistletoe you not-so-secretly hid above his doorway. He did find it, and called you first - knowing full well this was one of your shenanigans.

"(Name)-ya, what's that?"

You swallowed nervously and looked up, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I have no idea how that got there."

"Uh huh," he hummed, stepping closer to you. "Look me in the eye and say that again."

You couldn't. And now you were getting too nervous to even just grab him and kiss him, but little did you know that was part of his plan. He was flipping the switch, turning the tables on you and making it seem as if it was his idea.

"Well, you know the rule," he said casually, leaning closer to you. "I'm waiting."

Your face turned a dark shade of red at that, and you fidgeted with your shirt anxiously before leaning in to meet him halfway, letting your lips touch his gently. He was the one who deepened it, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Law, when he wanted to be, could be just as mischievous, if not more.

SANJI

I take it back, Sanji is the easiest to get under the mistletoe. In fact, he is the one planting the mistletoe everywhere in hopes of getting to snag a kiss from you at one point. Little did he expect, his plan would backfire quite miserably. Because instead of walking into the kitchen with you, you got stuck in the doorway with Usopp under the mistletoe, because Usopp had tried to get out the same time you tried to go in.

"YOU LONG-NOSED SNAKE-"

Sanji was fuming, throwing a tantrum as you just giggled and pecked the sniper's cheek, earning an embarrassed blush from him as he scuttled off.

"Babe-"

"Next one is mine, I swear!"

That did not happen. You just happened to be walking out of the aquarium when Zoro walked in, and Sanji almost fainted when the two of you landed under the mistletoe.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Rules are rules, twirly brows," Zoro smirked, enjoying this solely because it irritated the hell out of Sanji. As the blonde fumed and threw another tantrum, you gave Zoro a quick peck on the cheek as well before moving on.

Only after you had given Luffy, Brook, Franky and Chopper cheek kisses as well did Sanji FINALLY get you under the mistletoe, but by then he was in tears. Crying over how badly he'd planned this.

"Come here you," you laughed and pulled him close by the collars of his shirt, smashing your lips against his. You kissed him fervently, showing him that you'd been waiting for this kiss the most. He eventually relaxed and kissed you back just as passionately, locking his arms around your waist.

"About damn time."

KAKU

Oh, boy. The ratio of boys to girls in the CP9 team is horrible. There are two women, compared to six men. That's excluding Spandam, because you never included him in these things. But still, it was quite difficult for Kaku to surprise you with mistletoe because of the rare chance of getting you to walk where he placed it without you figuring it out.

Oh well.

So, begrudgingly, Khalifa agreed to help him out. Knowing it wouldn't be suspicious if she led you through a specific doorway, you followed her easily without questioning it.

That is, until she stopped outside the doorway and you entered at the same time as Kaku was trying to leave. The CP9 swordsman blushed, thankful that this worked, and shyly gestured up towards the mistletoe. Your eyes widened, before your own blush formed on your cheeks.

He is so so shy, you are the one who actually makes the move. He may have planted the mistletoe, but he is too nervous and flustered to actually lean in and kiss you, so you have to grab him by the zipper of his jacket and tug him down to meet you at eye-level.

"It's cute that you planned it out," you smiled innocently, knowing about it since Khalifa was not great at hiding what her task was.

"How did you-" He looked at Khalifa, who just shrugged and turned away. He blushed harder, "I didn't want to get anyone else under here by accident."

His admission made you giggle, "Fair enough."

Then you leaned in and kissed him slowly and deeply, angling your face away from his long nose after multiple experiences of your kisses being ruined by your eye being poked. His arms slipped around your waist and he lifted you up slightly, since he was much taller, and kissed you even deeper than you had kissed him.

"Get a room!" Jabra yelled, which you both ignored.

LUFFY

At least everyone else on this list actually knows what mistletoe is. Poor Luffy was so confused by the concept when Nami brought it up a few days before, and even explaining it to him didn't help. Unfortunately, on the day of Christmas, before anyone could actually show him what it was, Luffy had already eaten like three of the four plants that were strung up randomly around the ship.

"Luffy!" Nami scolded, "They're not food!"

Sanji had set them up, not knowing your dear captain would be oblivious enough to consume them, though he should have known better. Fortunately, since the cook was desperately trying to get either Robin or Nami to kiss him, he had spares.

"It's mistletoe, Luffy," you giggled as you took his hand and guided him to where Sanji had hung a surprise one for you and Luffy.

"What does it do?" He blinked, so very cutely confused.

"Well," you began, stopping under the doorway with the mistletoe, "You have to kiss the person you end up under the mistletoe with." As you said it, you blushed hard.

"But why?" Luffy asked. "Can't I just kiss you anyway?"

You laughed at that, blushing more, "You can, but it's more like...a cute tradition."

"Oh," he nodded, looking like he understood. He did not.

"Luffy," you sighed, pointing up at the plant.

He looked up, got excited and reached for it...only to have you slap his hand away.

"Don't eat it!"

Before he could respond, you tugged him against you by his waistcoat and kissed him deeply, successfully distracting him from his mission to apparently consume all the mistletoe you owned. He wrapped his arms around you excitedly and kissed you messily, but you didn't mind because he was just very eager.

"I get it now!"

USOPP

Like Kaku, Usopp is an extremely shy, flustered boy. He is so nervous all the time and when Robin off-handedly mentions mistletoe a day before Christmas, Usopp almost faints. He has kissed you before, but the idea of setting it up and leading you to it had his knees knocking together, his legs becoming two wavy lines.

"Usopp!" You called excitedly, rushing to find your boyfriend. While he was so nervous about the mistletoe, you had no such qualms and even blatantly waved it around over your head. "Look what I found!"

When you reached him, you smiled innocently as you held the little plant over your heads, grabbing his hand to pull him close.

"And what exactly do you have there?" He asked, feigning confusion.

You raised an eyebrow, then smirked, "Are you getting shy on me again? How cute." You kissed his cheek, making him protest.

"Is that my kiss?! That is so unfair, how can you just-"

You cut him off by actually kissing him, effectively shutting him up and drowning out his complaints. You kissed him deeply, much more passionately than your usual kisses and giggled when his legs almost gave out from under him.

"I-I was gonna do that..."

"Uh huh."

[qwertyprophecy]

Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

[spiderb00]

- What Is Your Word Of The Day?

Manon Bannerman x 7 member!reader  (request)

"The taste of victory is good, but don't celebrate too loudly” 

Genre – fluff          Warnings – none 

Now playing – Perfect Night, by Le Sserafim 

The night was calm, all the Kats were spread out comfortably in the living room. Sophia, Yoonchae and Megan were watching some movie on television, Lara and Daniela were gossiping about someone you didn't know very well, and Manon, your girlfriend, was listening to all the conversation of yours while stroking your hair. You all didn't have many days off, but when you did, you made it all worth it. The day off was a day with no stress, no complaints and no headache, you unfortunately, were going down a different path.

A few weeks ago, you discovered this word game called Daily Wordle, and you immediately became obsessed with it. You had X number of attempts and if you couldn't get them right, you would lose the game and could only play it again the next day. So, you were very concentrated at that moment, so concentrated, that you didn't even notice the strange looks that your friends and girlfriend were exchanging.

You were quiet for a long time, and that wasn't very normal for you, the girls always said that you and Daniela were the loudest, so when they didn't hear a word if it comes out of your mouth, they were definitely worried.

Exchanging silent glances, the girls debated whether or not to ask if there was something wrong. Your state of stillness was at least a little troubling, and Sophia, as the leader, began to really wonder if anything had upset you.

The girls looked at your girlfriend, silently asking if you were okay. Manon, who just shrugged, tried to look over your shoulder at what you were doing on your phone. When she was close to seeing what you saw so much on that phone, you jumped up off the couch.

"FUCK, YEAH!" You said, jumping up and down, making the girls startle and Sophia glare.

"Yn! Language!" Sophia said as she watched you jump for joy.

"I'm sorry, but I've finally settled the word of the day!" You said, jumping until you got close to Manon and threw yourself into your girlfriend's lap.

"Solved what?" Megan asks, getting confused by what you were saying.

"It's a game, I only have a few tries to figure out the word of the day and I finally got it, at the last minute." You said, laughing and kissing Manon's cheek, showing your happiness. "It was one of the hardest words I've ever caught."

"Why didn't you ask for our help?" Lara asked, reaching out and picking up your phone, to see how the game worked.

"I thought you might think it was silly." You said, slightly embarrassed by your confession.

"Awn, baby. It's not silly." Manon said, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear and giving a little kiss on your lips. "How about I help you next time, huh?" Manon offered, bringing a smile to your face.

"I would love it, love." You respond, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, we're still here!" Daniela said, throwing a cushion at both of you. "And we can help too." The Latina said, making you a little surprised.

"yes, it sounds fun. We'll help you next time." Lara said, giving you back your phone.

"Thank you girls." You said, making them smile back at you.

"But don't yell like that again." Yoonchae said, looking at you with a warning look, making you swallow hard and agree.

MY CLASSES WILL START IN A WEEK, I'M FREAKING OUT GUYS SORRY

Stay safe and drink water

xoxo, spider.

[skulkingfoxes]

A post-mortem of "Good Morning, Rose"

A few weeks ago, I posted my addition to the comic anthology GLIMM*R, a short comic called "Good Morning, Rose".

The reaction to it has been so uplifting and exciting. It really seemed to struck a cord with people, which, really, the best thing for me to hear as a creator. I absolutely love writing and making short comics, you can do much with so little, explore such interesting stories. The feedback I've gotten has been very heartwarming! It makes me want to explore short stories even more!

But, first, I want to talk about some of my feelings and about the process of making "Good Morning, Rose". This got a bit long, so you'll have to indulge me a bit. You should also read the comic first before reading this. Don't worry, it's only 8 pages.

Now the preamble is out of the way, lets go back to the beginning.

The idea of "Good Morning, Rose" was a nugget in my brain for a long time! Originally it was actually from the Dreamwalker's point of view, where she was a faceless entity who had a long term relationship with Rose and was trying to figure out how to explain that their relationships only were in Rose's dreams. It was a story about seeing, accepting, and loving each other truly and fully, and the trials and tribulations of getting there. Also a cute girl with an ancient eldrich being is always fun to explore.

A lot of it was too convoluted, emotionally and storywise. It also required to get into what the Dreamwalker actually was, which I ended up really not liking. So, ultimately, the idea didn't work, and I put it down. I ended up going to do my short comic Twigs instead.

When I was invited into the wlw anthology GLIMM*R and was told that the theme was "dreams", I decided to take another stab at the concept. This time, I inverted the pov, it's now Rose's story. And instead of a long term relationship, it was about the powerful first feeling of a perfect (maybe even too perfect?) first date.

One of the hardest thing to write in romance is getting readers to care about the relationship in the first place. To have the readers believe in the character's feeling, to be invested in their romance. This is even harder to do when you only have 8 pages to do it. Focusing it around a first date helped a lot in that case. There I'm not trying to sell that these two character will love each other forever and forever, just the fluttering first butterflies of realizing you're developing feeling for someone. It's why I leave it so open-ended about whether the two of them meet again at the end of the comic, or even if it was real in the first place. It's just not the point of the story.

That's something important about writing short stories, I find. You really have to hone in on an idea, on a thought. Take a simple idea and try to find all of the interesting layers. It's too easy to try to stuff a short story with too many ideas that ultimately go unfulfilled. In fact, the first draft of the comic, at the time called "Dream Date", there was a big problem with this and the pacing.

Here, take a look at the first stab at the roughs:

(BTW, there is something so fun about roughs for me lol. The art is so kinetic and loose, all about just getting the story across)/

As you can see, a lot of the ideas and imagery made to the final version of the comic. But both the initial readers and I agreed that the beginning and end were good, but the middle was messy and slowed things down. You can also see that I got stuck in the same problem I did when I first conceived of the story, it's bogged down trying to understand the Dreamwalker in a way that actually hurts the story. You simply dont have any room for bad pacing a short comic like this. I need to focus more on the character's and their emotions and exploring their actual relationship rather than blandly trying to explain the situation. A friend also suggested that I should hone in on the fluid dream-like aspects of the first couple of pages, especially since it's so fun to explore in the medium of comics. So I got to work gutting it out and trying again with the new, much stronger imo, direction.

Also there were some issues with the page format that needed changes for printing, thus the final spread had to be split up. Which is a shame, but oh well, it still works. I also honed in a lot more on Rose and her insecurities. I ended up putting a lot of myself into Rose. I'm glad readers seems to able to relate to her.

After figuring out the the story and the pacing, I went and, well, made the comic. Once you've done as many comic pages I have at this point, once you figure out a process, the actual drawing is fairly straightforward. Eventually, after thinking, and drawing, and toiling, and revising, and thinking hard about my life choices, I come out of the other end of the tunnel with a comic. One that I ended up really liking. One that other people ended up liking, which is always crazy to me.

I got a lot of interesting reactions to the comic. One demographic thinking it was sweet, wanting more of it (always a flattering thought), and enjoying the romance. Other remarking on the bittersweetness of it all, finding your soulmate in a dream, maybe never to see them again if they were even real in the first place. There were a lot of people remarking how they had a similar dream, one where they met someone they seemed totally and completely convinced that they were real and told the dreamer so, until the dreamer woke up. There was one person who asked if I had met the dreamwalker myself. Alas, my dreams are not this romantic and straightforward.

But all of us can hold hands, nod at each other, united by one universally true statement: big eldritch lady hot.

There's a lot of little bits I can talk about, like how Rose's dress is actively modeled after selkie dresses because I think they're cute, or some other trials and tribulations. But I think I've finished all I have had to say. I hope you enjoyed this and will stick around for my future projects! I definitely want to explore more short stories in the next year, especially as I am illustrating big graphic novels for my day job and don't have the time or energy for huge projects.

Till then, thank you so much! Happy holidays and have a good new year!

[ghoulishhx]

Fun fact seasonal depression actually sees a spike both in prevalence and intensity in the spring! Right around now. Something about the sun coming back and the days getting longer makes people feel extra shitty about themselves, probably because they’re still depressed but feel like they have less reason to be.

AAANYWAY wanna write something about Frank comforting a depressed reader? Maybe even a splash of suicidal ideation?

omg that thought never even crossed my mind?? but it makes complete sense, seasonal depression affects me first hand, like millions of other people. thank you so much for the ask (my first ask ever too omg) <3

anyone reading going through this, please know you're not alone, and know my dms are always open if you need to vent or talk about anything.

i've attached a link to a charity here in the uk which offers help dealing with issues i mention in this ask, you can find them here

──── ୨୧ ────

TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts and depressive episodes

Wordcount: 1.3k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ in sickness and in health

"Sweetheart, it's me. Please open the door."

This wasn't the first time this has happened, your whole body shutting off, being unable to function or form a coherent thought that wasn't dangerous. Times like these, you couldn't do much but lie in bed for hours, days even, on end. Only leaving to use the bathroom after holding it for hours, or to grab small snacks from the cupboard.

Your boyfriend Frank knows this, and as much as he doesn't understand, he tries his damn hardest to. Unbeknownst to you, he does his research on how best to help. Whether it's asking Curtis for advice, or staying up hours after you've fallen asleep searching the internet for advice. Even though you don't feel it sometimes, he cares. He really cares for you.

You groan hearing him pound the door, you love him with all your heart but the thought of moving you body ails you. You wish you had the energy to run to him, to jump into his arms.

Karen must've told him about your episode, and that's why he's home from his work trip a week early. You confided in your best friend a few days ago when this began, it being the first one in a while (the first time since you met Frank) and you're grateful for her telling Frank about it in the long run, even though right now you want nothing more than to be alone. You can't muster up the energy to do anything differently.

"Baby girl I'll break this door down if I have to, I'm not letting ya go through this alone, you hear me?"

Not wanting to get scolded by your landlord again, you begrudgingly pull yourself out of your pit and trudge the short length from your bedroom to your front door, unlocking it and allowing Frank to pass by you.

His heart breaks when he looks over your dishevelled form. He could tell you haven't eaten properly in the few days he had to leave for work, your hair neglected and beginning to mat, your clothes hanging off your body. None of this bothers him however, he loves you for you. In sickness and in health.

"C'mere." He says, pulling you into a bruising hug. You soften around his touch, finally your body has allowed you to feel emotion for the first time in days as you come apart in his arms, sobbing into his sweater, clutching onto the material scared if you let go he would disappear.

"I'm here now doll, 'm so sorry I had to go sweetheart. Frankie's here now, I'mma take care of ya." he whispers into the top of your head, stroking your hair as you weep in his embrace.

He reaches down to lift you, carrying you to the bathroom. While holding you he reaches down to your bath's taps, switching them on. He sits you on the edge of the bath, reaching for your lavender bath soak from LUSH, emptying the contents into the tub.

"I'm so sorry Frankie.. so sorry. I-I thought I was getting better, I thought.. I don't know why I'm like this.. I don't want you to see me like this.."

"Shh baby," He whispers, cutting you off. "It's not your fault doll, none of this is. You're not alone baby girl.. I promise you."

"Frankie.. I don't wanna be here anymore. I can't do this anymore.. I'm so tired."

Your words temporarily stun him, a wave of emotion flooding him. He knows about your suicidal thoughts and past tendencies, but this is the first time you've been so upfront about them with him.

He crouches down to your level, taking your hand in his. He takes a deep breath to compose himself, he can't help but feel hurt by your word but he knows it has nothing to do with him, and right now you need him with you 100%.

"I know sweetheart, I know it's so fucking tough. But I'm so goddamn proud of you, even for gettin' up today to let me in to take care of ya." He begins kissing your hand, trailing up your arm. "For bein' willing to let me help ya feel better," He places both hands on your cheeks, angling you to look at him. "For bein' able to talk to me, that takes a lotta strength doll, 'n I'm so.. SO proud of you."

A fresh waves of sobs shake your core, the floodgates are open and your body has finally allowed you to feel. He holds you and rocks you as you perch waiting for the tub to fill, kissing your head and rubbing your lower back. You feel safe, although you don't feel ok right now his presence let's you know no matter what, you will be.

Frank turns the tap, signalling the bath is ready. He helps remove your pyjamas, tossing the dirty clothes into your wash basket he lifts you, putting you in the bath.

He begins using the jug you keep by the bath to wash water over your hair, holding his hand above your eyes to keep them dry. He takes your shampoo, one of his favourite scents in the world, squirts it into his hand as he begins massaging your scalp, washing your hair. The gesture warms your heart, you don't know what you ever did to deserve such love, such kindness.

He finishes shampooing and conditioning your hair, and begins washing your body, kissing the skin as he wipes away the suds, whispering how gorgeous you are. You watch your boyfriend in awe, as he lifts your now clean self out of the bath and onto the mat, drying you off and handing you clean pyjamas.

He guides you to your bedroom, and tucks you into bed, you whine as he gets up and doesn't join you.

"Get comfy in bed sweetheart, I'll be with ya in a sec."

You listen to his orders, cuddling yourself into the sheets. 10 minutes later, he returns with food for you. The first meal you've had in almost a week, some rice and seasoned tofu, with vegetables on the side.

"Need ya to eat that for me doll, that's my girl." He places another kiss to your forehead, as he climbs next to you and helps you feed yourself, understanding your energy has reached rock bottom. He doesn't judge you for this, for any of it. He truly loves you and would do anything to make sure you're going to be ok.

"Thank you Frankie, for everything." you say finishing your meal, handing him the plate as you cosy yourself into bed.

"Nothin' to thank me for sweetheart. I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you. I love you so much, you're not alone now that I'm here. Never again." He pulls you into the spooning position.

You begin to apologise again, feeling like a burden allowing him to see you in this state. He stops you,

"Baby girl please don't apologise. I don' expect nothin' of you doll, I hope you know that. You're allowed to feel and what you're goin' through is so fuckin' hard. I dont judge you for a second. But you're not alone. It will get better, I promise. I'm so proud of ya princess." He turns your chin to meet your eyes with his, he means every damn word and you trust him. You trust him more than youve ever trusted anyone in your life. "C'mon honey, let's get you some sleep, you've earned it."

He reaches past you to turn out the light, pulling you impossibly closer to him, peppering kisses along the back of your neck.

"I love you Frankie. So much. Please never leave."

"Not planning on it doll, ya stuck with me now."

You giggle at this, Frank beaming at hearing your laugh for the first time tonight.

"In sickness and in health, my sweet girl. In sickness and in health."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: once again, please know if you relate to any of the themes discussed you are not alone and will be get through it, my dms are always open, i know what it's like to struggle alone and no one should ever have to go through that.

"keep your eye on the donut, not the hole." - David Lynch

♡ my inbox is open!! ♡

[spanktony]

“LEFTOVERS” - lee doona.

summary: lee doona was so full of herself and you hated it. until, you understood.

words: 4.2k +

warnings: 18+ g!p reader, p in v, oral (d receiving), doona’s kinda an ass but not really because she’s wifey, and i think that’s all.

notes: once request open back up more doona requests guys 🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so underrated

navigation. request.

you had never met someone so full of themselves; well, that was up until the moment you had your first interaction with doona. you had just finished lacing up your sneakers, your compression shirt hugging your torso and your workout pants snug and comfortable.

the day was still cool, perfect for a run, and you were looking forward to clearing your head after a long day of work.

being a server was no joke.

you popped your headphones into your ears, selecting your playlist before closing and locking the main entrance door behind you, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you from across the courtyard.

it was a beautiful evening, and you smiled as you started singing, off-key but nonetheless singing, while you warmed up and stretched before your run. you didn't notice the figure sitting nearby until you were almost past them.

doona.

she was sitting on the brick fence that surrounded an old tree, one leg crossed over the other, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. the smoke swirled lazily around her, and she exhaled slowly, watching you with a bored, detached look as you bopped your head to the music in your headphones.

you were in your own little world, head down, and pounding music that drowned out everything except for your own thoughts.

but then, just as you were getting into a good groove, doona stood up abruptly, taking a drag from her cigarette.

without missing a beat, she stepped directly into your path, her body blocking your way.

you came to a halt, pulling your headphones down to your neck.

"excuse me," you said, raising an eyebrow, already feeling the irritation start to build. you hadn't been expecting anyone to stand in your way, let alone her.

doona regarded you coolly, the smoke curling from her lips as she blew out a cloud and gave you a pointed look. "what's your deal?"

you blinked, confused, your jaw slightly dropping. "what?"

doona took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. the calm, almost calculating look on her face made you feel even more confused.

"you've been staring at me for weeks," she said, her voice laced with something you couldn't quite place. was it annoyance? amusement? "every time you run by, you look up at my apartment. i see you. you're watching me."

you blinked again, the irritation from before quickly turning into bewilderment. "what? i'm not—what are you talking about?"

doona's expression didn't soften. she flicked the ash off her cigarette, still maintaining that intense gaze. "don't act like you haven't noticed me. you've been eyeing me from across the courtyard every day, practically tracking my every move. and now you're singing my songs like some kind of weird obsession. what's your deal, stalker?"

a small laugh escaped you, almost out of reflex. "are you serious? i've just been doing my thing—i'm not stalking anyone."

doona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. for a moment, there was a pause between you two, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as your confusion started to shift into something else.

"yeah, right." she took another drag, blowing the smoke into your face, causing you to close your eyes and cough slightly. your jaw tightened at the action, but you still tried to keep your cool. the last thing you wanted was to give her any kind of satisfaction.

doona tilted her head to the side; the two of you studied each other intently, the tension thickening between you as the seconds dragged on. her gaze was sharp, predatory even, and her lips twitched into a small smirk.

you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest not to show how irritated you were. it wasn't like you cared that she thought you were some sort of stalker. in fact, you were far more interested in getting away from this confrontation and finishing your run.

but as you stared back at her, you couldn't help but feel... curious. who was this woman? why was she so damn confident and dismissive?

finally, you exhaled sharply, pulling your shoulders back when it finally hit you. she was lee doona, from dream sweet!

your confusion morphed into a mix of surprise and disinterest. you weren't particularly impressed by celebrity status, and honestly, you couldn't care less who she was. all you cared about was getting back to your routine and putting as much distance between you and this strange encounter as possible.

you stared at her for a beat longer, trying to mask the faint surprise flickering across your face. doona's eyes held an intense gaze, scanning you almost like a puzzle to be solved.

but when you didn't immediately react the way she expected, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and she flicked the cigarette again, sending more ash into the wind.

"so, what?" you said, cutting through the silence with a firm tone, finally over the awkwardness. "you're accusing me of stalking you because i run by and look up at the apartments? that's a stretch."

doona narrowed her eyes, seemingly a bit put off by your nonchalant attitude. she opened her mouth, but something in your demeanor stopped her. maybe it was the fact that you weren't fawning over her or hanging on her every word like people usually did.

maybe it was the confusion you still had about her unexpected behavior. she seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time in the conversation.

her voice, when it came out, was slightly less accusatory, but no less annoyed. "it's not just about running by, alright? it's the way you look at me. like you're always waiting for something."

you paused, taking a moment to process her words. you tried to read her, but she had the same expression as before, guarded and defensive. her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.

was she really this caught up in a casual interaction with someone she thought was obsessed with her?

"i'm not 'waiting' for anything," you replied before brushing past her, putting your headphones back in, and jogging out of the courtyard towards the street.

over the next week, doona's presence became hard to ignore. she had a way of appearing at just the right moment—whether it was passing you in the hallway or casually lounging on her balcony as you stepped out for air.

her presence was like a constant shadow, always hovering just out of reach but never quite out of mind. you couldn't deny that her mysterious aura intrigued you, but you weren't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

each time you crossed paths, whether she was perched on the balcony with a cigarette or standing in the doorway as you passed by, she had that same intense, unreadable gaze. it was like she was trying to figure you out, but at the same time, she never seemed to want to make the first move.

you, however, had other things on your mind—your routine, your runs, the work that needed to get done. doona wasn't a part of that, no matter how much she seemed to want to be. you kept your head down, trying to block out the distraction that was her presence.

but one day, when you returned home after work, still dressed in dress pants and a black button-up shirt, you saw doona sitting outside.

you hesitated for a second, unsure if she'd approach or if you should just keep walking. but before you could make up your mind, she called out to you.

"hey."

you stopped, caught off guard by the lack of confrontation this time. she wasn't blocking your path or looking at you like you were some strange specimen. she was just... there. waiting.

"are you going to keep ignoring me, or do you actually want to talk?" her tone wasn't harsh this time, just curious.

for a moment, you felt a flash of irritation. who did she think she was, acting like she had the right to dictate when you should talk to her? you had enough of these mind games. you glanced over at her, seeing her kicking her feet outwards like a child.

she wasn't smoking this time, and she wasn't giving you that intimidating, piercing stare either. instead, her eyes were warm, and there was a small, inviting smile on her face.

something in your stomach twisted slightly, but you managed to hold yourself together. you stepped forward, crossing your arms, but your stance was more relaxed now, less defensive than before. "what's this about, doona?"

she leaned back against the fence, leaning back on her arms and tilting her head slightly. "i don't know. maybe i was wrong about you."

"wrong about me?" you repeated, confused. "what do you mean?"

doona let out a sigh, her gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting yours again. "i misjudged you. thought you were... obsessed or something."

a soft chuckle escaped you, and you raised an eyebrow, still unsure if you were understanding correctly. "and now?"

her stomach growled audibly before she could answer; doona's eyes flicked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair, clearly embarrassed.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her. "lucky for you, i've got leftovers from work," you said, tapping the backpack you had slung over your shoulder, which contained a portion of the evening's meals from your restaurant job.

"leftovers?" doona raised an eyebrow. "what, you think i look like i'm starving?"

"maybe not starving," you said, "but it's not like you're going to turn down free food." you held out the bag, shaking it slightly, almost teasing her.

she eyed it for a moment, then pushed herself off the fence, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate step. "you're lucky you're offering," she muttered, taking the bag from you with a slight smirk. "i wasn't going to beg for your charity."

"right," you said, shaking your head. "just take it, doona."

for a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to offer a witty remark, but instead she just muttered a quick thanks, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bag.

the next evening, when you returned from work again, there she was, sitting by the same spot, her eyes trained on her feet. she didn't seem to notice your approach until your foot scraped against the concrete.

this time, she didn't wait for you to say anything. the moment she saw you, she stood up and walked toward you, eyes gleaming.

"got any leftovers today?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.

you were taken aback for a moment. had she really come just for food? "still hungry, huh?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.

"very," she replied, with that same smirk you were starting to recognize all too well.

you shrugged, reaching for your backpack and pulling out another container. "here, take it."

days passed, and each night when you came home, doona was there, waiting for more of your leftovers. her presence had become a routine, like a weird, unspoken agreement between the two of you. you'd offer the food, she'd take it with little fanfare, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she'd stay for a little conversation.

one evening, your manager practically forced you to stay late, almost two hours after your shift had ended. when you finally arrived home, exhausted and hungry, doona wasn't waiting for you. it was late, so you don't know why you would expect her to be there.

but as you made your way up the stairs and towards your apartment, you noticed something odd. a faint sound—footsteps. someone moving quickly, almost purposefully. you paused, glancing around.

there she was.

doona stood at the foot of your building, her eyes scanning the space like she was looking for something—or someone. her gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view, and for the briefest of moments, there was something almost sheepish in her expression.

you stopped in your tracks, the exhaustion from your late shift quickly replaced by a flicker of amusement. "i didn't think you'd be waiting tonight," you said, adjusting the strap of your backpack, almost expecting her to snap back with some witty retort.

she didn't. instead, she bit her lip, her eyes darting around as if unsure of herself. "i thought you might have forgotten," she said with a small shrug.

you blinked, the words catching you off guard. "forgot?"

"yeah." she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "the food. i've... been getting used to it."

a weird, inexplicable tug in your chest made you pause.

"i haven't forgotten," you replied, your tone a little lighter. "i just got stuck at work longer than usual. but i brought something for you."

you opened your bag; instead, it wasn't the usual takeout you usually brought her. instead, you pulled out a small cake—chocolate with rich frosting and a simple "happy birthday" written on top in delicate icing.

doona blinked in surprise, her eyes widening a little. "what... is this?"

"it's your birthday, isn't it?" you asked with a small, teasing smile. "i figured you'd appreciate something sweet, instead of leftovers for once."

she stared at the cake for a long moment, not even noticing you turning away and walking upstairs toward your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

doona lingered by the doorway, still staring at the cake. something about the gesture touched her, and her mind raced with questions, but none of them would formulate into coherent words.

after a long, thoughtful pause, she made her way up the stairs with the cake in her hand. when she knocked on your door, you opened it, already anticipating her arrival. you weren't surprised to see her standing there, her expression unreadable as she walked past you, heading straight for your bed and setting the cake down on your desk.

you raised an eyebrow as she made herself at home, flopping down on your bed without a care in the world. it was a little jarring, considering how much she had thrown off the idea of getting close to you just a few weeks ago. but there she was, casually reclining on your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you stood by the door, not quite sure what to say. "you just walked in without even asking?"

she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. "it's not like you're going to stop me."

"what makes you so sure?"

"you wouldn't have let me in otherwise."

that was a fair point. you sighed, moving to unbutton your work shirt, but instead of heading to your closet, you stayed near the door, keeping a safe distance from her. "what do you want?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"i just wanted to see if you missed me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly soft, though laced with that playful challenge. her gaze held yours, and for a second, you could have sworn there was a hint of affection in her expression.

you swallowed, breaking the gaze and looking away. you didn't want her to catch the flush creeping across your cheeks.

doona smirked, watching the way your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, the way you tried so hard not to show any sign of vulnerability. you chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in your laugh.

"miss you?" you took a few steps further into the room but kept your distance, not wanting to make the moment feel too awkward. "you've been showing up for leftovers, and now you're asking if i miss you?"

doona raised an eyebrow, which dropped when she let out a sigh, glancing around your room. it was her first time ever being up here. "you looked for me tonight," she muttered. "i didn't think you cared if i was around or not."

you paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt exposed, like she had somehow cracked through the barriers you'd carefully put up around your thoughts and emotions. you'd been so intent on brushing her off, pretending that her presence didn't matter, that you hadn't realized how much she'd started to occupy your mind.

"i didn't look for you," you said quickly, though you weren't entirely sure if you believed it yourself. "i just—" you rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes, not wanting to meet hers. you took a deep breath, forgetting about taking off your work clothes and instead focused on trying to maintain your composure.

doona's gaze softened slightly as she watched your struggle to keep your cool. she could tell you were trying to downplay the shift in your emotions, but it wasn't working. there was a crack in your facade, and she was starting to notice it.

"right," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing than before.

you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of your neck again as your eyes flicked to the cake you had given her earlier. for some reason, the sweetness of the gesture now felt like it was hanging over both of you, making everything feel more real, more vulnerable. you had never meant for this to become more than just a simple exchange. leftovers. a casual moment. yet here she was, in your room, in your personal space, making things feel... complicated.

"i didn't expect you to be here," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "i didn't think you'd care if i gave you a cake or not."

doona let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. "you really are bad at this, aren't you?"

the way she said it caught you off guard. there was something affectionate in her tone, something beyond just teasing. you had never thought she would soften up like this, not after all the weird tension that had built up between you two. but there it was.

you swallowed, still not quite sure how to handle the shift in the air. it was no longer about leftovers, no longer about the small interactions. she was making you confront something you hadn't expected to feel—maybe even something you hadn't wanted to feel.

"doona..." you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"stop overthinking it," she said with a small, half-smile. "i'm not here to make you uncomfortable. not really. i just... want to see how far you'll go."

"go where?" you asked, still confused but unable to stop the questions from rising in your chest. "what do you want from me?"

she sat up from your bed, the air between you two thickening with every word. "i just want to know if you're more than the girl who gives me leftovers. are you?"

her gaze was intense now, and her words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. you didn't have an answer, and you didn't know what she was hoping for. you just knew that whatever this was—whatever you two were turning into—it was no longer as simple as it had been when she first asked for leftovers.

she stood up from your bed, her hands falling to the buttons of your shirt, her eyes never leaving yours. you felt the soft cotton of your shirt, now being unbuttoned by her, slipping off your shoulders as she leaned in closer.

her fingers traced along the lines of your collarbones, slowly, gently, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. it was such a gentle touch, such a light caress, yet you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart skipped a beat.

she tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as she watched you, the intensity of her gaze making it clear that she was enjoying this. enjoying seeing you get flustered, enjoying seeing you react to her touch.

and then, her hand moved to your hip, and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips against yours.

you could feel your pulse quicken as the kiss deepened, her fingers digging into your hip, her other hand reaching up and tangling in your hair, tugging slightly. as she pulled you closer, you could feel her body pressing against yours, her breath mingling with yours, your mind going blank as her tongue swiped over your lips, tasting, teasing.

you hadn't expected this—hell, you didn't even know if you were ready for it. but doona wasn't giving you a chance to overthink. she was just there, and all you could do was follow her lead.

when the kiss broke, you found yourself looking into her eyes. they were dark and full of want and something else, too. you swallowed, feeling your stomach twist with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

doona leaned in again; this time you didn't hesitate, kissing back with the same intensity and hunger she was pouring into you, her lips soft and insistent against yours, while her arms dangled around your neck.

the kiss deepened again, your hands fell to her waist, and doona began walking backwards; you followed her like a puppy on a leash, falling on top of her as her back hit your bed. her eyes were half-closed, but they were still looking at you. she ran her hands up and down your sides, caressing you. her touch was light, but you felt it go right through you. doona smiled up at you, her hands going to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, her fingers grazing your skin as she pulled the material up over your head.

her hands fell to your core, fingers trailing against your stomach. her touch was making you shiver, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, focusing on her touch, looking down to see a singular finger moving along the top of your pants, tracing the outline of your belt, teasing. she was taking her time, exploring your body, watching and listening to your reactions. it was making you painfully hard, and you wanted nothing more than to have her fingers wrap around you.

finally, doona moved her hands back up and unbuckled your belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it aside. then, she popped the button on your pants and lowered the zipper, sliding your jeans down, exposing your black boxers.

she was gazing at you, her pupils blown wide with lust. doona licked her lips. she was waiting for you to say something. but all you could do was nod and kiss her.

her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips. doona's hand was in the front of your boxers, rubbing your cock through the material, feeling how hard you were. your hands gripped the sheet beneath you, and you took in a sharp breath.

you let out a grunt as her hand moved under the waistband of your boxers, wrapping around your shaft, squeezing and stroking. "wait," you said, breaking the kiss. you pulled back a little and looked at her. "let me help you."

she bit her lip, nodding, letting go of your cock. you sat down on the bed, kicking your pants away, and watched as she slid off her own pants, her hips raising from the bed before lowering again.

doona had you in a spell, your eyes glued to her every movement; you wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on you. she was wearing a pair of black lace panties, which contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. your gaze lingered on her breasts, which were covered by a coordinating bra.

she lay back down, her hair fanning out on the pillow. you couldn't stop staring.

"see something you like?" she teased.

you nodded, crawling back on top of her, afraid that any words that left your mouth would make her change her mind.

instead, you kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other sliding behind her back, deftly unclasping her bra. you felt her body shiver as you slid the straps off her shoulders, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts.

"you're so beautiful," you murmured. she smiled, pulling you closer.

you lowered your head and began kissing her neck, working your way down to her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples, making them harden under your touch. the soft sounds of her moans only encouraged you further, along with the grip she had on your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

her hands tangled in your hair as she whispered, "don't stop."

you moved lower, kissing her stomach and then her thighs. anywhere your lips touched, she shivered with pleasure.

your fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs. you were staring at her now, more than ever, taking in her naked form, her body flushed and warm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, her eyes locked onto yours.

you moved forward, settling between her legs, spreading them open, your hands gripping her hips. "please," she whimpered. "i need you."

you pressed your face against her thigh, kissing it softly, your hands gripping her thighs firmly as you trailed kisses up towards her core. she arched her back, silently begging for more, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided you closer to where she needed you most.

"stop being an ass," she whispered in frustration in her voice. "just give me what i want." you chuckled softly, then moved higher, your tongue finding her wet folds. her breath hitched, and her hand tightened in your hair, a low moan escaping her lips as you gave her exactly what she desired.

you lapped at her cunt, your tongue moving up and down her slit, tasting her. she was writhing beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her pulling at your hair so much it was starting to hurt. her moans grew louder, more desperate, "oh, god..." she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. "that feels so good."

you continued to lick her, your tongue sliding up and down her slit, teasing her, before you focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she was panting now, her legs trying their hardest to trap your head between them as she bucked against your mouth.

"fuck... oh, fuck..." she was breathing hard, her moans increasing, her thighs squeezing tighter around your head. you knew she was about to cum, and you didn't want to disappoint her, so you quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently. she let out a loud gasp, her legs tightening around your head, her back arching as she came hard.

her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. after a moment, her grip on you loosened, and she let out a long, content sigh.

you looked up at her, a smile on your lips, and she grinned back at you. "see," she said breathlessly. "i knew you could be a good girl." you wanted to roll your eyes and disregard the pet name, but your body's response was instantaneous, and you felt yourself grow twitch as the words escaped her lips.

you climbed up her body and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on your lips. "do you want more?" you whispered against her lips, and she nodded. "i want you inside me."

you moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as you pulled off your boxers, revealing your cock, fully erect, glistening with precum. the dark-haired girl smiled seductively as she crawled towards you, straddling your lap and guiding you inside her with a moan of pleasure.

the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was overwhelming, and you both moaned in unison when doona's hip began moving achingly slow. she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you were so lost in the moment that you could barely form a coherent thought.

your eyes left the sight of your member buried deep inside her to meet her intense gaze, your mouth agape and your hands gripping her hips tightly. "pretty," she muttered, her voice husky, kissing the outline of your jaw before trailing down your neck.

your mouth took in her breast, savoring the taste of her skin as she arched into your touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. she started riding you faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was better than any song she had ever sung.

"doona," you managed to gasp out, your hands gripped her waist tightly, your mouth falling against her shoulder, trying to contain yourself.

you didn't know what the two of you were going to be after this, if she would continue playing that stupid game she loved so much, if you could just stay as friends, or if you could somehow get closer, but for now, none of that mattered. all that mattered was her and her soft body.

her hands dug into your hair, and you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. her pussy felt so tight and wet, and you groaned against her neck, your teeth biting at her skin. she started moving faster, and you knew she was close. a loud whine left her throat, and her fingers tightened in your hair, yanking you back to look at her.

"y/n," she whined. "fuck, please. are you close?"

you nodded.

"fuck, baby. you feel so good. come with me, y/n. please." you reached down and circled her clit with your thumb, and her mouth dropped open, her head thrown back as her entire body tensed, her pussy tightening around your dick, pulling you over the edge with her. you groaned, pressing your face into her neck as your cum filled her.

she collapsed on top of you, and the two of you caught your breath.

[swanimagines]

MELODY OF THE NIGHT | MORPHEUS

Summary: You've been distancing yourself from Morpheus, because you know he's an Endless and can't be romantically involved with humans, but you can't bear being with him while knowing you can't have him. He comes over to your house and demands to know what's the matter. It ends unexpectedly.

It had been weeks. You had known it was forbidden for Endless to be romantically involved with mortals, but your stupid heart had still developed feelings for him. It had been too painful to endure, so you willed yourself not to visit The Dreaming anymore, and avoided Morpheus in your dreams as well - not that you actually had the power to do that, but Morpheus knew when someone didn't want him to appear so he didn't.

When your doorbell had rang, you had to admit that you hadn't expected who was on the other side of the door, even when it should have been obvious. Morpheus stood there, looking as gorgeous as always. Compared to you - messy hair, looking like you didn't sleep properly, in your t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Hi, um... sorry, I'm kind of busy here," you mumbled to him, not really even looking at him.

Morpheus sighed, clearly knowing it was a lie. "May I come in?"

It wasn't really a question, but you still nodded. He came into your apartment and closed the door behind himself. You tapped your tea mug nervously as you stood in front of him. You didn't know what to say to him, really. You were embarrassed, angry, and frustrated all at once. Your emotions made you feel out of control, which in turn only increased your frustration and your embarrassment.

"I do not understand why you will not talk to me," Morpheus said, his voice soft. He looked hurt, or maybe just disappointed.

His words hit you like a hammer. You took a deep breath. "Because I... I just... I can't visit you anymore."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it." you replied quickly. If you told him, you knew he'd sigh and explain what could happen. He would also say he doesn't love you back.

This time, Morpheus didn't press any further, but he did look upset. He stayed silent after that for several minutes. Eventually, he spoke again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" you exclaimed. You shook your head, trying to get some of your thoughts together. "No, it's... it's me."

Morpheus moved closer to you. "Then why..."

"Just leave me alone," you snapped. "I told you I don't want to talk about it, and I mean it."

"But-" he started, but you cut him off.

"Dream, please, stop," you pleaded. "You've already caused enough trouble by showing up here. Just go away."

"I do not understand," he whispered. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," you muttered. "And I can't let anything to happen, I can't control... just leave me alone."

Morpheus seemed truly confused now. He didn't seem angry, though, and he didn't argue. He just continued to stare at you, his expression unreadable. "You are one of the first humans I consider a friend. I need to know-"

Next thing you didn't even think about doing. Your feelings just rushed forward, spilling over and you grabbed his coat and tugged him close and pressed your lips against his.

Morpheus froze, just as you had expected and you pulled back before he had a chance to, breaking off the kiss. You stared into his eyes, panting slightly. "This is why I've been avoiding you," your voice broke mid-sentence, tears now cascading over your cheeks. "I know it's wrong, we can't be together."

"What?" Morpheus asked, bewildered.

"I love you," you admitted. It felt like the hardest sentence you ever uttered. "I can't keep it in, I just keep thinking about how I want to wake up with you, and I dream about you all the time, and I hate myself for feeling this way. I ruined our friendship the moment I developed those feelings for you, and I'm sorry, but I can't stop loving you, and I can't bear to see your disappointment in me."

Morpheus stared at you for a long moment, watching you sniffling in front of him, before you felt a hand sliding down your cheek and wiping away your tears. "Where did you hear we could not be together?" he asked, gently.

"I... I found it in a book. You had fallen in love with a woman named Nada and the Sun punished her for it."

Morpheus was quiet as he thought about that. "It is true," he then said. "But rules have changed since then. You are not allowed to rule The Dreaming with me or marry me until you are dead, but I am allowed to love you."

His words echoed in your head for a moment before you registered them, and looked up at him. "What?"

"I have loved you ever since we first met," he explained. "I cannot help it. I will never stop. Even if you stop talking to me, even if you stop visiting me, I will always love you. I needed to know if I can fix our friendship, but I did not know you feel the same way about me, and that is why you stopped visiting me."

You blinked at him, almost thinking this was a dream... or at least a daydream. But it felt too real to be one - and in dreams, you knew Morpheus would be controlling what he'd say."

"So you love me?" you asked hesitantly.

Morpheus nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do love you."

You stared at him for a few moments longer, unsure what to say, before you felt your lips growing into a wide smile. "Well, I love you too," you said, pressing another kiss on his lips, and this time, he returned it.

And on that moment, you knew it - this was going to work. Even though it was a risk to love him, you were willing to take it - because you believed he deserved your love more than anyone else in the world.

---

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[evertidings]

— JUNE 2024.

accomplishments.

hi!! how's everyone been lately? june was a really good month for me in terms of writing and i'm really really happy about it. turns out, forcing yourself to write actually does something. who would've thought?

for the longest time, i had no motivation to work on this chapter because it wasn't going anywhere. i had the issue with the plothole and it honestly killed so much of my joy. since reworking the chapter, however, i've gotten back some of my spark. i basically told myself that 'hey, you still really like what you've created so far, right? so suck it up and push past your mental block.' and here we are.

i'm still getting back into the groove of things, but i've done a lot more writing for this than i have for a while. that said, i apologize for the long wait. i feel immensely guilty about the lack of update but i swear to you, it will come. my plan is some time in the summer. if not, then early fall (though this is obviously not preferred).

to speak on the chapter itself, chapter eleven has three major branches in total, and, as i said in last month's update, each of them feature different ros. i'm currently wrapping up branch #2 and plan on working on #3 later this week. technically, branch #1 isn't done yet, but it was also the branch that gave me immense writer's block so forgive me if i ignore it a little longer. branch #1 and #2 are also a lot heavier compared to #3, so having written those for months on end, i'm feeling a little weighed down. by switching over to #3, the goal is to have enough energy to get back to #1. once that's done, all i gotta do is edit and publish it!

so yeah, maybe we're not at the end yet, but we're getting there. this is the best i've felt about this chapter for a very long time now and i'm really hoping this energy continues. thank you for your continued patience. i will try my hardest to make this worth it for you.

take care of yourselves! <3

stats.

chapter total: ~21,170 words

game total: ~493,170 words

[gor3-hound]

are you lonely?

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, incest, dad leon, 18+ reader(obviously), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon??(just to be safe), a lot of self-loathing and guilt on leon's part

a/n: i apologise wholeheartedly if i tagged anything incorrectly, this is my first time ever posting something i've written(and one of my first times finishing an idea), but i will try my hardest. THIS IS DARK CONTENT, so please be careful reading and scroll if you don't like it!! also genuinely please tell me if i missed any tags! hope you like it :)

word count: 2.4k words

It never gets easier. Every single mission manages to drain Leon more than the last. He almost just gave up on it all a long time ago - he would have if it wasn't for one thing.

You.

As he opens the door from another exhausting mission, he's hit with the smell of home cooked food that has his mouth watering. The house is spotless, as always. Floors completely polished, the sound of music coming from the kitchen has him dragging his feet there on autopilot, eyes settling on you.

His sweet daughter is at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You haven't even noticed he's home yet, humming along to the music coming from your phone softly as you cook. He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, just gazing at you for a few moments.

God, he missed you.

“Hey, honey.” He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching in a close approximation of a smile, about all he can manage after the shit he's seen this past week. Your movements pause, and then you're tilting your head over your shoulder to look at him.

“Dad! You're home!” You exclaim, shooting him a smile that lights up your whole face. He barely has time to react before your arms are wrapped around his torso, giving him a tight hug. He never feels like he deserves your affection. He's barely even around, but you're always clinging to him like a needy puppy when he is. 

“Mhm. Managed to finish up a little early.” He mumbles, a hand coming to your head to press it against his chest, giving your waist a little squeeze with his other one. Doesn't bother telling you about what he was doing. Doesn't want you worrying. “You miss me?”

“Course I did.” You reply without hesitation, giving him a squeeze in return before pulling away from him. “Gotta keep cooking before it burns, though. You hungry?” You ask softly, returning to the stove.

He hums softly, eyes lingering on you as he walks away. He finds himself looking at you for a little too long, blinking his eyes to snap himself out of it. “Yeah, I could eat.”

His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now

He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day.

You'd make a good wife for someone one day.

His frown deepens as his brain supplies that thought to him. Is this what's happening to him now? He's so sick that he's attracted to his own damn daughter? Is that really how fucked up his life has got? 

He gets a little weird after that, eating dinner with you in silence when it's done before rushing off to the bedroom. You ask him about 100 times what's wrong, but he always gives you the same ‘it's nothing, honey, just tired.’ You don't believe a word of it, naturally. You know your dad better than that, know when something’s bothering him

And you're a sweet girl. Too sweet for him, if he's being honest. So he shouldn't be surprised when you go to check on him after you clean up the dishes before you go to bed. But he wasn't thinking right, and you walk in on him right as he's pumping his dick to the thought of you.

“Shit…” He breathes out as he sees you in the doorway. He thinks he's going to be sick when the sight of your surprised face is what tips him over the edge, your pretty lips parted in shock as he cums harder than he has in years.

Post-nut clarity hits him like a train, guilt clawing its way up his chest, nausea setting in. “Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry.” He says quickly, too stunned to move. His hand is still gripping his cock, still hard and leaking, his hand coated in his release.

And you're just staring, unable to take your eyes away. Makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He quickly seems to snap out of his daze and yanks the cover over himself, his jaw tightening as he refuses to meet your eyes.

You find yourself disappointed that you can't see him like that anymore, a frown tugging at your face. “It's okay, dad.” You manage to say, voice a little strained. Heat pools in your stomach, and you fidget a little as you stand in the doorway, your common sense warring with what you wanted.

“I just wanted to check on you.” You say after a moment of silence, Leon still not looking at you. “You seemed… weird at dinner. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You continue to stand awkwardly in the doorway before you shift further into the room. Against your better judgement, you sit on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his eye.

“It's okay, dad. Really.” You tell him, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. He lets out a stifled groan, his eyes squeezing shut. You're too good for him. “My fault for not knocking.”

His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he slowly realises he's found you beautiful for a long time - more than what's considered acceptable as a father. Ever since you came back from college during one of your breaks, filling out your clothes in a way you never had before, looking up at him with those pretty eyes…

Fuck. He's sick. He deserves to rot in hell. He'd noticed long ago, pushed the thoughts away so he could be the father you deserved. And you're perfect. So goddamn beautiful, like you were made for him. Your hand is so warm and soft where it cups his cheek, your touch so gentle.

He's been so, so lonely. And you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, brows furrowed in concern as he refuses to answer you. Knows if he opens his mouth, he's gonna say some shit he regrets.

He ends up doing something he's gonna regret, anyway. Can't help himself when you're giving him those eyes. He's grabbing you by the cheeks, pulling you into a kiss without even thinking about it.

You pull away, and he whimpers. He tugs you back in again, kissing you with more fervour this time. Your body freezes up, then you find yourself kissing back, and he's not sure if that's worse or not. Guilt is eating him alive, but he can't help himself.

“I'm so sorry, baby.” He murmurs between kisses, desperately tugging you closer to him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and he moans softly as your own prods against his. “Can't help it. You're so pretty.”

This time, you're the one deepening the kiss. His hands find your waist, his grip tightening. He didn't realise how badly he needed this. Needed you. He can feel how badly you want him, the way you're pressing up against him as he kisses you.

It's so wrong. He wants to do so many things to you. You want him in a way no one has ever wanted him before, even more than your mom ever did. It's intoxicating, makes him dizzy. He feels so pathetic. What kind of sicko wants to fuck his own daughter? He's your dad. He should be protecting you from creeps like this, not making a move on you.

“Baby…” He breathes out, pulling away from your mouth, his heart hammering in his chest at the disappointed look that spreads across your face. “We can't do this. Y'know that, yeah?”

But his hands move to settle on your hips, tugging you into his lap, the duvet the only thing separating you from sitting on his bare cock that he never had a chance to shiver back into his pants after you caught him. He's not strong enough, needs you to be the one to bring him to his senses. You just needed to say no, and he'd be able to stop. But you don't, and he's too weak to do it himself. Far too weak.

“Daddy…” You breathe out, frown tugging at your lips. “Please? Just this once?”

How is he meant to say no to that? He buries the guilt, buries the self-loathing. He's good at that - pushing away his feelings and pretending that everything's okay. He can't deny his pretty girl of anything, especially not when she asks so sweetly.

So he kisses you again. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, one that has him groaning and rocking his hips up to get some kind of friction on his aching cock. It twitches, already leaking pre-cum. He can't even remember the last time he fucked someone. Can't believe he's about to fuck you. He's tempted to cut his dick off after this. Doesn't deserve it.

It's not long before his hands are pawing desperately at your pants, tugging them off along with your panties. He keeps your shirt on, pretends that makes him better, even if he wants to see how your tits bounce. Hey, he thinks, at least I had some self-control.

You moan so prettily when his thumb brushes your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. You're already so wet, his cock jumping with interest. Even Hell is too good for him.

Your hands slip down to tug at the fabric separating the two of you, your hips only hovering long enough to pull the duvet down and expose him, a low whine spilling from your lips.

“Want it, daddy. Please?” You murmur, dipping your head down to kiss his neck, making him suppress a groan.

“Yeah, baby. Anything you want.” He breathes out, his free hand reaching for the base to make his cock stand tall, offering it up like some kind of treat while his other hand still rubs lazy circles onto your clit.

You both moan in sync as you lower yourself onto his length. His hand slips to your hip, gripping it to guide your movements. His hips buck up into you, his tip brushing your cervix whenever you sink down fully onto him.

You're so wet, and you squeeze him just right. He's going to go insane. There's no way he can help himself now. He's never gonna stop thinking about how good you feel wrapped around him.

“Fuck, honey. Pussy's made just for me,” he groans, cringing as he says the words. He's never been a fan of dirty talk, feels awkward. Worse when he thinks about who he's fucking. But you feel so good, he really can't stop himself. His brain isn't working anymore.

“You're so big.” You whine, grinding your hips down against him more than actually riding him, like you don't want his dick to leave you for even a moment. Cute. He almost cums just at the way your face twists as he fucks up into you.

“S’all yours, baby. C'mon,” he coos, thumb slipping away from your clit and making you whimper, just so he can grab your waist with both hands. “Ride daddy.”

He lifts you up and down, helping you ride him. You rock your hips desperately, moaning as he presses up against your sweet spot with every thrust, picking up the pace as he fucks into you. He's able to manhandle you so easily, which only has you moaning louder, your eyes fluttering shut.

With his hands occupied with gripping your waist as he helps you fuck yourself on his dick, you bring your own hand down to rub at your clit, making the heat in your stomach build rapidly.

The bed creaks as he picks up the pace again, rutting deeper into you than before, your pussy making the most obscene squelching noises. It's downright sinful, Leon has to use all of his focus to stop himself from cumming right then and there. Fuck, if it wasn't for him jerking off right before you came in, he'd have cum as soon as he saw your pretty pussy.

You're close, biting your lip to sniffle your moans as they grow louder, fingers moving faster against your clit. Your dad notices, shifting his hips until he's pounding relentlessly into your sweet spot, making you see stars.

He feels his chest swell with pride when he feels you tense up, pussy clenching around his cock deliciously as your orgasm hits, juices gushing past his cock and coating his balls. He didn't even know he still had it in him, thought his dick game died in his 20s. This was a pleasant surprise.

His balls tighten, and he knows he's about to cum. He grunts and goes to pull you off of him, but you whine and shake your head, pushing yourself down. “S'okay, daddy. I'm on birth control. Wanna feel it, please.”

He frowns a little at that. He doesn't like thinking about other guys fucking you. You're his princess, a sweet girl. Your daddy will take care of you, not these other losers. God, he's fucked up.

“Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fill you up?” He grunts, flipping you over with ease so your back's pressed to the bed, him hovering over you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, head hanging and bangs covering his eyes.

“Fuck.” He hisses as he buries himself balls deep in you, cock kicking inside your pussy as he cums. He pants a little as he fills you, he's not quite as young as he used to be. Takes it out of him sometimes.

He pulls out and slumps next to you. You cuddle up to him instantly, and that guilt and shame comes to the surface again. He pulls you close to him, pets your hair and kisses your forehead like he always does.

“Love you, baby girl.” He murmurs, his free hand pulling the covers up and over your body, his fingertips scratching your scalp lightly.

“I love you more, dad.”