#realized i forgot to put this here oops

[chubgosty]

[YOU will do as I say and say as I do]

[For I am GOD, and I created all of YOU]

[Tee-hee~!]

Alternate version without the filters

[mattyriddlesbitch]

please please write about theodore nott getting caught by the reader touching himself to her. then absolutely wrenching her in the his dorm. overtimulation. squirting. round after round.

This one was a lot longer than I originally planned, oops, lol.

Just One More

Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Warnings: mention of masturbation, oral(female receiving), squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie

18+ Minors DNI

You and Theodore had gotten assigned for a project together for potions and were working on it in his dorm. You had called it for the day, exhausted and ready to rest after the long school day and hours working on this project with Theo.

You weren’t extremely close with the boy, but that didn’t stop his attempts to flirt with you and joke around with you whenever he did see you. And you had to admit, you may have developed a small crush on him. He was hot and flirted with you, what else could you say?

You said ‘goodbye’ and left his dorm, heading to your own. You noticed once you got there that you had left your textbook in his dorm and figured you’d just grab it real quick.

But as you were about to knock on his door, you could hear faint noises inside. After a second of listening, you realized the noises were moans. Did he have a girl over? It was just his moans you could hear so probably not.

��Oh, (Y/N), cara mia. Fuck.” You heard coming from the other side of the door.

‘(Y/N)’ Was he really moaning your name? Holy shit.

Before you even realized it, you were knocking on the door. You could hear a quiet cuss escape his lips and some shuffling with a louder ‘Hold on’ coming from him. After a moment, the door opened, and Theo leaned against the door frame before his eyes widened when he saw it was you, quickly turning his expression into a calm one with a flirty smirk.

“Cara mia. What are you doing here? Didn’t get enough of me?” He asked as he looked you over.

“Uh, I forgot my textbook. Though, it seems like you were the one who didn’t get enough of me.” You said, giving him a sweet, innocent smile.

His smirk fell. “What are you talking about?” He shifted slightly, clearly nervous now.

“I kinda heard you. You moaned my name. I was only gone for a few minutes, it seems like you barely waited after I left to, uh, you know.” You said, tilting your head.

“How long were you outside my door, bella?” He asked.

“Long enough.” You shrugged.

He looked at you for a few seconds, like he was pondering his next move before pulling you into the room and closing the door behind you.

“Seems to me like you were enjoying listening in.” He said as he backed you up to the bed.

“Well, it was more like I was surprised, especially once I heard my name.” Your legs hit the bed and you fell on it.

“So you didn’t like it?” He leaned down, putting his arms on either side of you to trap you on the bed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you wanted, I could show you more of those sounds now.” He lowered his head to your ear as he spoke quietly. “I could show you what I was thinking about doing to you that was making me moan like that.”

“Very tempting.” You said back just as quietly as him. “How should we start?”

“How about we start by getting these clothes off?” He said as he leaned back and helped you out of your clothes, a bit quickly and desperately. “Fucking hell, principessa. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He said before leaning back down to pepper kisses along your neck, trailing up before connecting your lips. The kiss was heated and hasty, like he couldn’t get enough. He nestled between your legs, his hands roaming along your skin, feeling everywhere. One hand traveled lower until he made it to your folds, groaning into the kiss when he felt how wet you were. He teased your entrance, enjoying the whine from your throat as he started pushing two fingers in you, swallowing your moans once he started thrusting them in and out of you.

He parted from your lips and went back to your neck, kissing and licking his way down to your chest before giving your nipples some attention. Your moans were loud now that you weren’t being muffled by his lips, your back arching into his mouth as he licked and sucked at one of your nipples before giving the other the same attention.

“Fuck, Theo!” You moaned. Your hands were gripping at the sheets, the neat fabric getting wrinkled in your grasp.

Theo moaned against your nipple in response, flicking his eyes up to your face to watch your reaction. He used his thumb to find your clit, rubbing circles on it as your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. It didn’t take much before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and have your body trembling.

He moved his body to bring his mouth onto your clit, his fingers never stopping inside you. The pleasure was starting to get overwhelming as you wrapped your fingers in his hair, cries and gasps leaving your mouth as he licked and sucked at your clit.

“Theo, please! ‘S Too much!” You whined, trying to pull away from him. His free hand stopped you, wrapping around your hips to keep you in place. “Shit! Oh my fuck!” You cried out from the overstimulation, the pleasure on the brink of being pain.

He wasn’t stopping, forcing another orgasm out of you as you cried and clawed at his scalp, which only made him hiss. He kept going, though. Any hopes of him slowing down or stopping were gone, all you could do was plead and cry. He worked you to another orgasm, this one nearly making you black out as it hit you.

“Fucking hell, cara mia. That was perfect. I need you to do that again for me.” He said and you raised your head to look at him, noticing the drenched sheets beneath you.

“What?” You asked, still dazed.

“I made you squirt. And you’re gonna do that again for me.” He smiled before leaning back down to lick at your clit again.

You whimpered and clung to his hair again, body fighting on if it wanted more or less from him. His arm around you wouldn’t let you decide anyways since it kept you from squirming further or closer to him. He easily brought you to another orgasm like he already knew your body. He helped you through it, not even minding that you soaked him again in your cum.

He finally let you go, standing up to push down his pants and chuck off his shirt before settling back between your legs, bringing them over his shoulders as he started easing his cock into you. You and him moaned together as he bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust before beginning to thrust. “You take me so well, cara mia. Holy shit. You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Your mind was already blank from all the previous orgasms, no way you could respond other than with the moans and whimpers that left your mouth from how sensitive you were.

“Just one more for me, bella. Cum on my cock for me and we’ll be done. I just need it. I need to feel it.” He rambled, his hips pounding into yours, desperately trying to get both of you to cum.

With how sensitive you were, your orgasm came quickly, clenching his cock and sobbing. He praised you, wiping your tears as he helped ride out your orgasm.

“Sorry, principessa. Just one more. Please, just one more. I promise that’s it.” He said as he kept slamming into you, overworking your cunt.

“I can’t-I can’t, Theo! I can’t!” You cried.

“Just one more. I promise. Just give me one more. Fuck, you felt so good cumming around me, I just need to feel it one more time.” He said, gently kissing your leg on his shoulder.

He forced you into another orgasm before he finally came, filling your pussy with his cum.

“It’s okay, cara mia. We’re all done. You did so good for me.” He rested your legs on the bed and cupped your face, pressing soft kisses on your face.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[ditzydoe444]

Thinking about how sweet husband!jason would be to pregnant reader🥺.

Like rubbing her back and kissing her forehead, telling her how grateful he is that she’s carrying his baby💗.

Also I just realized I forgot to put anonymous on that one ask 😭😭😭 oops but oh well!

-🍼

jason todd fluff

“ah well look at you sweetheart,” jason cooed as he saw you sitting on the couch in your maternity dress with your round stomach. “best thing about coming home is you,” he whispered as he snuggled with you. jason loved seeing you pregnant, you became like a little grumpy teddy bear, all soft and round but with a whole lot of attitude. luckily for you, he only tolerated attitude from you.

“feel her kicking,” you groaned gently rubbing your stomach as jason’s large hands caressed your stomach soothingly. “she’s just excited to see us, she’ll be our little princess,” he grinned just thinking about his future daughter. jason didn’t have a high tolerance for many people, apart from you, and the fact that he was going to have a daughter that was going to be a mini you? god he couldn’t be happier.

he kissed your forehead as bought you closer to his embrace, “you’re gonna be the best mother,” he smiled softly at you. the thought of seeing you carry and looking after his daughter made his heart melt. “can’t wait to give birth jay, i don’t think i can do this for much longer,” you winced as you felt another kick. “everything hurts, my back, feet, stomach.”

jason chuckled watching you complain, he loved how whiny you always were and seeing you whine even more when pregnant? god he fell in love with you again. “come here, i’ll give you a back massage.”

you almost moaned as you felt his strong calloused hands knead into your back, gently coaxing the knots whilst you sighed. “feels good jay,” you mumbled as you felt a moment of peace.

“good, because i’m gonna spoil you every single damn day even after you give birth.”

[kazzattack]

Pretty, pretty girl…

Dick Grayson x Black fem!reader x Jason Todd, w/c 2.6k

Synopsis;; You attend one of Bruce Wayne’s galas with your father, for the pure pleasure of seeing the infamous Wayne brothers, and end up being snuck into the manor for the night.

content;; 18+, threesome, oral (fem receiving, implied male receiving), face fucking (male receiving), brief chokehold, hair pulling, fingering, finger sucking, eye contact, lots of banter, technically mirror sex (bc I lowk forgot about the mirror oops), light degradation (whore, slut), brief dry humping, doggy style, manhandling (?), spanking for 2 seconds, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart), Jason’s a bit of a meanie, and Dick is… Dick, I think that’s it, poorly edited/proof read

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” you begin to mutter, frustrated that you agreed to attend in the first place. Still, you find the will power to put on your prettiest smile and runway worthy strut.

Functions likes these never served any entertainment for you, nor did you get anything out of it. Galas your father attends for the sole purpose of saving face, surrounded by rich scum and snakes. At least this is Bruce Wayne’s gala. One of the only billionaires you find tolerable. The only people worth going for are those Wayne boys, though. Pure eye candy. You couldn’t pick a favorite out of the two.

Dick Grayson’s the first to greet you, eyes darting up and down over your figure before meeting your eyes. “Hey pretty lady,” he sing-songs, friendly and welcoming despite the telling glint in his eyes. Wayne’s prodigal son, the first, and he definitely fits the title. Dick is almost surprisingly sweet, pouring you wine and complimenting the shiny gold jewelry around your wrists and neck, rather than the dress that rides just a bit high on your thighs when you sit in the chair he pulls out for you.

Jason Todd meets you with an unintentional death stare, bless his heart. Not to say you don’t do the same thing at first. If he wasn’t 6’1 and 200+ lbs of pure muscle stuffed into a red tux, he’d be easier to miss. At first you don’t even realize his connection to Dick, let alone Bruce Wayne, but you quickly take notice of the familial banter from afar. As of now, you two share the commonality of not really wanting to be here. The two of you only get the chance to properly speak thanks to the loud-mouthed brother, followed by the chance to subtly gawk at each other, of course.

The two of them, though most of the effort is through Dick, make most of the event fly by. You take part in shameless flirting with the leaner of the two, laugh a few times at Jason’s more snarky jabs, and before you know it? Your father’s left wondering where his daughter ran off to. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to tell him two out of many of Wayne’s kids are busy trying to sneak you into his manner.

The… guest bedroom? Is awfully large, along with the bed, and the nightstand, and the mirror you use to make eye contact with Dick. They’ve put you under the impression to have made it past the security system, but realistically they both know Bruce has been notified of your presence. They also trust the billionaire playboy will mind his business. And besides, the old man should be the least of your worries when Dick tugs your dress up, followed by Jason’s calloused hands running up your thighs.

“You’re shameless,” you tease, settling yourself between Dick’s legs with your back against his chest while Jason lowers his overwhelming stature in front of you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you haven’t seen the half of it,” he corrects, grabbing the tiny zipper between his fingertips to expose more skin. “Especially not from that one down there.”

Jason scoffs, sliding your heels off as he responds. “I’m almost positive she knows what you are. Hard not to.”

“I know what I am,” Dick snickers into your ear, hands snaking over your figure. “You’re the one who stomps around acting like you’re too high and mighty for a little fun.”

You muster up the courage to jump in, urging Jason to come a little closer to your face. Despite the persona, you’ve both warmed up to each other throughout the night. “You too good for me, Jay?” You inquire, tugging him closer by his collar and tie. The glint in his eyes answers for you, giving away every intention he has for the rest of tonight.

“‘M just shy,” he jokes, though you’re not 100% sure he is. After a few drinks and the comfort of a seperate room, his eyes wander more freely, and it doesn’t take long before you notice Grayson’s gawking at you through the mirror as he undresses. “Not that you’ve gotta worry about that anymore.”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Jason was no longer shy, clearly.

“Oh my god, Jay-“ you moan above him, head resting on Dick’s shoulder as one hand roams around your upper body. The other curls under your knee, supposedly holding your legs open as opposed to closing around Jason’s head while his tongue flicks against your clit.

“Fuck, you sound gorgeous,” Dick whispers as he sucks another hickey into your collarbone, and you feel a smooth hand wrap around your neck and rest there. “You gonna make those pretty noises for me too?” His tone is sultry and teasing, though you aren’t sure if it’s meant to provoke you or the short-tempered brother between your legs. You haven’t spent that long with them, but it’s been long enough for you to learn of Jason’s competitive edge and Dick’s insufferable tendencies to get under his skin.

“You could always find out for yourself…” you manage to respond, circling your hips in time with the thick finger on your insides. The strength is found to pick your head up and look at Dick, who’s already watching you like a hawk. Eyes focused with an almost obsessive gaze, tongue grazing over your skin. You can tell he’s fixing his dirty mouth for a quip but you cut him off with a gasp as another finger is dipped into your cunt, breaking eye contact as your head falls back.

“Quit talking to him,” Jason grumbles into your heat, “just sit and look pretty like you were doin’.” His words are muffled and the bass in his voice vibrates against your leg, leaving no room for you to consider not listening to him. He’s sure you’d much rather listen to him after that debauched moan you let out anyway.

Your hand moves to tug on the white streak of Jason’s hair, blanking out for a moment as the tips of his fingers curl and thrust into you. “Aw, gonna let him ruin the fun?” Dick teases, “I still wanna look at that pretty face.” He fixes you after his comment flies over your head, gripping your jaw to face him in the mirror and letting go to see if you’ll focus on your own. Jason, still seemingly irritated with him, tightens his biceps around the plush of your thighs and pulls you further from Dick. He doesn’t like sharing either. Noted. You glance down at him, green eyes half lidded and entirely zoned in on your pussy. He doesn’t talk all that much, but he’s got his own filthy mouth, tongue dipping in with his fingers for a moment as his free hand circles your clit. This is where you learn that Dick has his own frustrations too. He needs control, power in his hands.

“No wonder you like her,” he grins, “she’s almost as hard-headed as you.” Through the hazy pleasure you giggle, not expecting the way his arm slots around your neck. There’s a gasp before a strangled moan and you clench around Jason’s fingers, hips bucking into his face and he groans into your pussy. You’re in a more compromised position now, and he’s looking you directly in the eyes while his free hand tweaks at your nipple, making you arch further away from him.

“Oh, the pretty lady likes this? You want it tighter?”

Shamelessly, you nod despite your restrictions and he listens, squeezing your head between his forearm and bicep. A familiar feeling coils in your tummy, pretty nails digging into the flesh around your neck as your leg wraps around Jason’s head. You’d feel bad if it weren’t for the needy groan against your cunt.

“Ohh, gonna come on his tongue from getting choked out? Yeah, let him know who you’re looking at while you fuck his face.”

Oh?

You’re ashamed of it, but the limited oxygen and lightheaded effect had you follow along without a thought.

“‘S you- fuck, Dick- I wanna…”

At this point, Dick’s sure he can see steam from Jason’s ears.

Still, his ministrations only go deeper, even if it’s not exactly of his free will. Thick nails dig deep into your hips and thighs to keep you in place as you orgasm and he helps you ride it out as he huffs and grunts. Meanwhile you’re right where Dick wants you, laying up against his chest and moaning against his forearm as if you were his bitch.

“Fuckin’ attention whore,” Jason sighs, easily moving your body further from Dick after practically yanking his arm from you. “Can’t go five minutes without begging for someone to look at you?” He’s clearly ticked off, but the frustration is also accompanied by the bulge of his dress pants pressing against your thigh. He hates the competition yet he undeniably craves it, and it’s clear in how much rougher his touches get. Jason moves to kiss up your body as his fingers curl at a slower pace, holding your hips in place to keep you from squirming underneath him.

“Jay-“ you sigh in bliss, hips trying to inch away as you sit up to look down at him. “Ja-son… ‘s too-“

“Shut up,” rude, “I know this pretty pussy’s beggin’ for it.”

“Struck a nerve? Sensitive much.” All he gets it a glare, rightfully so. You’d expect Dick Grayson to get in on more fun, but he’s just evil. He likes seeing a pretty girl like you squirm. Jason’s clearly more hands on, scissoring you open a few times before abruptly pulling away shoving his fingers down your throat. You’d be embarrassed by how easily you take it if the two of them weren’t mesmerized, watching while you suck his fingers clean of your own slick.

“We got us a pretty little slut, Jaybird,” Dick praises.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?”

“No, actually.”

“Well I am now, Dick.”

You get out a little giggle while they bicker before Jason flips you over, positioning your ass against his pelvis and guiding your hips back. You’d been too high in pleasure before to realize that Jason Todd is big, everywhere. His dick presses against you through his pants and you almost panic as he pushes you back and forth, watching your ass bounce against him a few times and you whine.

“Yeah, y’feel that?” He groans from behind you and only Dick can see the prideful grin on his face. “You’ll take it, baby, jus’ for me.” Still, you let out a little whine at his words and clench around nothing. What you can see is the bulge in front of you as your head rests between Dick’s legs, doesn’t look as big but it’s definitely enough. You have no right to complain.

Jason leans over to deepen your arch and you hear his belt unbuckle. You wanna tell him wait, but you’re too slow. The tip of his cock slips against your opening and you mewl, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Oh my god, Jay-“ you gasp before he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Fuck… what’d I tell you?” He grunts, already halfway inside. “Already so wet and you’re tellin’ me you don’t wanna get fucked?”

“Be nice,” Dick interrupts as his fingers curl into your hair gently, as if he didn’t have you moaning against his arm in a chokehold earlier tonight. He gets to be the nice one now, your handsome knight in shining armor. If that were entirely true, though, he wouldn’t be over so slightly forcing you back onto Jason’s cock with his other hand.

Dick’s order is easily disregarded once he’s all the way inside, and with a few thrusts, pulling all the way out before slamming you onto his cock, pretty nails are clawing at the fabric of Dick’s slacks and you muffle your moans into them with soft whines. “Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he hums from above you, cooing at you with a soft voice yet tugging your head up by the chin a little harshly to look at you.

“‘S big.. oh- fuck, Dick-“

“‘Scuse me?”

Oopsie.

“Now you’re in for it, doll.” The smile of amusement and lust on Dick’s face is almost demeaning.

“We got an ungrateful little slut,” Jason scowls, tugging so hard on your hair he might fuck it up if he doesn’t fuck you up first. His thrusts gain a brutal pace and he fucks you even deeper than before, leaning down to your face before he speaks again. “Here I am, face covered in your cum, fuckin this tight cunt with my cock and you’ve still got the nerve to be moanin’ for him? The fuck is he doing for you, huh? Tell me. Tell both of us.”

You can’t, even if you wanted to. Even if you could. Just from the close proximity, the way his dick hits that sweet spot harder and harder has you whimpering an incoherent apology and clenching around him. The only thing he can make out is the pathetic little “‘m sorry” as your hand moves to cover your face.

“Oh hell no,” he corrects you, grabbing your arm and folding it behind your back. You’re weaker than ever right now, no longer holding yourself up. In fact, Jason’s the one holding you, keeping you stable while he fucks the lights out of you.

“I think she wants it like this,” Dick chimes in, smiling like all you’re doing is putting on a show for him. Not that you mind, of course. You’re busy trying not to cry from the intensity, but you haven’t even realized your mascara’s been fucked up for a hot minute already.

“Yeah, you wanted this, right? Bet you thought you’d get it from that bastard,” Jason huffs a guttural laugh, “guess he shoulda told you about this thick dick.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, Jay- fuck, please,” you beg from beneath him, tightening around his dick as another orgasm has your moans higher pitched. “Wanna cum- lemme cum, Jason, please-!”

“Now you wanna moan my name?”

“Guess you fucked some sense into her.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Grayson.” The venom in his voice is for Dick, but unfortunately the anger gets taken out on you with a sharp smack on the ass and you yelp. “Give it to me,” he groans, “cum all over this cock.”

“Thank you- thank you, Jason-“

Your eyes roll, so far back you can see your skull as he fucks you throught it. You still babble on about how good he feels and he never lets up, focused on his own orgasm as he shoves your face into the mattress. Without another beat, he fucks you full, nasty fluids gushing around his cock as he finally calms down. You damn near back out, honestly, but distantly you can hear another belt buckle being undone.

“Y’done yet, Jaybird?”

“Not really,” he huffs through a deep groan, still rutting into you. “But go ahead. Just don’t piss me off again.” Dick fake pouts, pulling your face back up and you’re met with his length, throbbing and neglected.

“Wha…” you weakly moan, legs trembling and cunt twitching around Jason. Dick almost moans at the sight of your fucked out face, drool pooling at the corner of your lips and mascara smudged down your face. Still just as gorgeous, albeit more shameful than before. Dick can admit he prefers you with this look.

“We’ve still got plans for you, pretty girl,” he whispers, squishing your cheeks to push your mouth open before slapping the fat of his cock onto your tongue. “You still with us?”

“Mhm…”

“Good, good girl.“

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

a/n;; dick was supposed to have the upper hand for most of this but listen, things happen. writing this was honestly so fun but idk if it’ll ever happen again anytime soon </3. pls enjoy, like, comment and reblog, i’d appreciate it :p

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader (part three; finale)

read 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 (part one) and 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢 (part two) first!

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || he can't believe you're really here— now he has to just try not to blow it... figuratively speaking.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms/overstimulation [for reader], creampie), sex work (however dieter technically does not pay the reader for sex, just her flight to visit him c:), mentions of covid-19 pandemic, soft dieter being soft, emotions!! lots of 'em!, extremely sappy/fluffy ending (oops?)

He wasn’t sure who he was more worried would get recognized: you, or himself.

It was his idea to go out to dinner first, in fact he’d insisted on it.  Going out to dinner in times like these was a bit iffy, but thankfully the place had outdoor dining and you’d both already tested negative— for more than just the virus…

It was a beautiful evening to eat outside, but it made him even more anxious that any passerby might know him either of you from your respective works; so far, no one had said anything though.

As he watched you take a sip of your sparkling water, he realized that he hadn’t had a crush on anyone in a long, long time.  He hadn’t had sweating palms and a racing heart and a dry throat over someone since probably high school.  By the time he was in his BFA program, he was so focused on his craft that he didn’t find himself worrying much about that sort of stuff— and if he wanted to get someone into bed, it didn’t seem like much to stress over.

This was different.  This wasn’t an issue of getting you to sleep with him, although he certainly hoped you wouldn’t renege on the intentions you’d stated before— this was about getting you to like him, maybe even (as he would’ve put it back when he last had a crush) ‘like like’ him.

“Was your flight okay?” Dieter asked compulsively to fill the silence, proud of himself for thinking of something to say.

“Still good,” you nodded.  “You asked me that when we first got here.”

“Right,” he sighed, “sorry.  I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, setting your glass down on the white tablecloth.  “I’m nervous, too.  But in a good way.”

He smiled.  “Yeah— I’m just really excited that you’re here.  And it’s still kind of weirding me out that you’re… you know, real.”

“It’s definitely trippy,” you agreed.  “When you see somebody over video chat a lot, they look sort of surreal in real life.”

“Are you… speaking from experience?” he wondered, lowering his voice a bit.

“Yeah— but not this kind of experience,” you clarified.  “I’ve never met anyone from my work before— I told you that.”

“Right, yeah— I believe you,” he assured.  “Have you ever flown overseas just to meet someone before?”

You laughed, looking down for a second.  “No, I haven’t,” you answered, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve been, you know, wined and dined by somebody…”

“Well, I figured this wasn’t your first date,” Dieter scoffed.

“No, I mean— well, yeah,” you hummed, “but I, um… before I started camming, I was actually a sugar baby.  So I’ve had my flights paid for before, is what I mean.”

He widened his eyes a little, but nodded— hoping to look more intrigued than overwhelmed.  “Oh, wow, that’s— I don’t know a lot about that, honestly…”

“I was about to ask if you’d ever had a sugar baby before,” you smirked, “guess not.”

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, “not my— not for me.  Not before, I mean— is that what you want?”

He got a little nervous that you would only want that— a relationship built on money.  He was more than happy to drop some cash on you— he’d offered to pay for everything for you on this trip, it only seemed fair when you had to come all this way— but he got a sick feeling in his stomach imagining that that was all you wanted from him.

But then again, he just said he didn’t know a lot about it, maybe it wasn’t like that… he just felt like it was another performance, and that was the last thing he needed from anybody.

“O-oh, no— not with us,” you answered quickly, blinking a few times, and he sighed with relief.  “I mean, it was nice— it wasn’t all old guys and crazy finance douchebags like people think,” you explained with a laugh, “but it was… it was hard work, in its own way.  ‘Cause another misconception is that it’s sex in exchange for money and gifts— it’s not, not the way I did it at least.  Those guys wanted the ‘girlfriend experience’... that’s the most profitable thing, whether it’s online or in-person.”

Dieter cleared his throat; can’t blame them, I guess…

“But, you know, they didn’t have the time for a genuine relationship, so it was like giving that emotion but never receiving it,” you continued, “and that was exhausting.  Not to mention most of them had other girls involved… I’m not a jealous person, but you know, that’s obviously not what I want for myself in the end.  So I switched to camming, worked out well with the pandemic and everything…”

“I’m sure,” Dieter agreed.  “So, um… maybe this is kind of a forward question, for a first date, but… what do you want for yourself in the end?”

You seemed to get a little more shy, then.  “Well…” you began softly.  “Despite what you’ve seen me do, I’m a pretty traditional girl.  I want a serious relationship, I want a lifelong commitment, I want… a family, probably.”

It was hard not to feel a lump in his throat when you said that, even if his emotions were conflicted at best.

“I mean— that doesn’t have to be you,” you rushed out, “I’m just saying… that’s the end goal.  I have a lot of time for that, in my opinion.”

“No, right,” he agreed.  “So then, I guess the obvious question— and probably a much easier one— is what’s your goal for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow.  “I already told you my goal for tonight.”

He swallowed thickly.  He remembered your last message before getting on the plane pretty clearly: boarding now. hopefully i can get some sleep but i’m pretty wired ngl. just thinking about getting there and jumping your bones. i want you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk (or think) straight.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded at all if you just took me straight to the hotel,” you smirked, “but dinner is nice.”

“Yeah, I— I thought about it,” he admitted.  “But… can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I wanted this to be more than just… that,” he said.  He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell you, but he hoped it wouldn’t bother you too much.  Thankfully, the gentle smile creeping up your face seemed to indicate that it wasn’t particularly offensive.

“So, what do you want this to be?” you pressed.

“We can figure that out as we go,” he offered, “we should get to know each other better— for real.  But that night that we stayed up until three just talking after what was supposed to be a one-hour call—”

He saw you smile even wider as you remembered it.

“I haven’t felt close to anyone like that in—” he began, but it all stopped as the waiter suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Your tortellini, ma’am,” he said as he set your plate down in front of you, and you offered an intrigued ‘ooh’ as you examined the dish, “and your langoustines alla busara,” he finished as he set Dieter’s food down.

“Thank you,” you offered the server with a polite nod, but Dieter could only muster a hum— he was a little miffed that the guy had managed to interrupt such an important moment.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” he asked, looking back and forth.

You looked over at him to check first, before shaking your head and replying, “No, I think we’re alright.”

“Excellent,” he beamed.  “And— can I just say one thing?”

You both paused, not sure what to make of that.  “Uh, sure,” Dieter decided, since the waiter seemed to be looking at him.

“I loved you in Hunger Strike,” he said excitedly; Dieter tensed up, wanting to look at you to gauge your reaction but suddenly too afraid of what he’d find.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled out, “that… means a lot.”

“I mean, it really moved me,” the waiter insisted, even though Dieter just wanted this interaction to end promptly.  “You were so— I’m really not trying to intrude, but is there any way I can get your autograph?”

Then he looked at you, and he couldn’t quite read the expression on your face— amusement, maybe, with a hefty dose of discomfort as well.  You looked away and took a long sip of your drink.  “Uhh,” Dieter choked, looking back at his adoring fan, “you’ll get my autograph when you bring the check.”

Seeming to realize that he had gone too far, the young man straightened up and cleared his throat.  “Right, uh— enjoy your meal.”

Scampering away, he left the both of you behind, along with all that tension he’d created.  How come he got a escape a situation that was his own fault, and Dieter was stuck here wondering if you would be upset that he didn’t tell you who he really was— or if you’d reveal you were a crazy stalker-fan the whole time— or if knowing he was famous would change your interest in being with him (if you even had any)?

“I’m… sorry about that,” Dieter finally offered to you, and you started to smile.

“Don’t be,” you chuckled, “it was kinda funny.  Do you usually react so… badly, to that kind of thing?”

He coughed a bit.  “No, I— are you not…?  Do you know—?”

“I saw the movie, Hector, I don’t live under a rock,” you admitted.

“Oh.”  Not sure what to say next, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “What did you think of it?”

Shrugging, you answered with a simple ‘eh’.  There was a pause before he began to crack up— and then you did, too. 

“So, I’ve been worrying about all you finding out about my career for nothing?” he assumed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t recognize you right away,” you explained, “but I put it together before we planned all this.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered.

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed to, really,” you shrugged again.  “It’s just your job.  I was ready to talk about it if you brought it up— if you wanted to vent about work or something— but you never did, so I figured it must not be relevant.”

“Does it… change anything between us?” he asked nervously.  “Do you feel weird about going out with a movie star?”

“Mm, I don’t know about star…” you smirked, making him laugh again— and that was the part that was the same as always.  You still made him laugh, and now that the two of you were really talking again, it felt just like that night that you talked for hours— but even better.

When the plates were cleaned and the bill was paid, the two of you walked back to his hotel— he’d picked this place in part because he could see it from his window.  But that brief walk back was one of his favorite parts of the night so far, only because he’d slipped his arm around you, and you leaned into him: in that moment, he felt more normal than he had in a long time— and yet, at the same time, special in a way he’d never felt before.

~

“I tried to clean up in here, but—”

“Isn’t there housekeeping for that?” you wondered.  

“Yeah, but… I’ve had the ‘do not disturb’ sign up for the past week,” Dieter explained.  “Didn’t want anyone to come in while we were talking…”

“Right,” you smiled, finishing your examination of the room and turning to face him again.  The door shut on its own; you were looking at him with every light in the room reflected in your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, and wrapped his arms around you, and— why were his palms so clammy?  “I don’t think I’ve been this nervous to kiss someone since… since maybe my first ever kiss,” he recalled, and you laughed softly.

“Yeah, me either,” you whispered back, and he ran his hand over the curve of your hip.  “Who was your first kiss?”

“Uh, Sandy something… Brendan, I think— no, Brennan… Sandy Brennan.  We sat next to each other in History class in seventh grade,” he recalled.  “What about you?”

“I mean, unless you count a peck or two from my kindergarten boyfriend,” you chuckled, “my first real kiss wasn’t until high school— Gregory Cho.  But I wasn’t that nervous… actually, I was sort of ready to get it over with.”

“There was someone I was really nervous to kiss in high school, too,” he recalled, “but that was… different.”

“Who was it?”

That name was much easier to recall.  “Alex Brooks.”

“Was she super pretty?  Or popular?” you pressed, wondering what had him so nervous, what made it different.

“Both,” Dieter replied quickly.  “And… he was captain of the basketball team.”

You didn’t react strongly, but he still noticed it.

“Is that—?” he began to ask.

“He sounds like a real catch,” you smiled.  “Was he a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” Dieter laughed, “for a high schooler.  I guess things don’t feel as special now as they did back then— just some decent making-out in someone’s dad’s truck was the coolest thing, now it’s like— it’s all right there, you don’t have to…” he trailed off, but started a new sentence.  “I mean, even you— I’ve seen every part of you, but I just really met you for the first time.  And somehow I’m so afraid to kiss you.”

You were still smiling, but it changed, and you reached up to rest your hand on the back of his neck; it made him shiver in the best way.  “If you’re afraid, then it must still be pretty special.”

You kissed him, after all that; he would’ve felt bad for making you wait, if he wasn’t so fully engrossed in kissing you back and pulling you closer and breathing in deeply against your skin.  

For a long time, that was all it was— just one, amazing kiss.  Just his lips on yours and the gentle dance of trying to go further without going to far; just your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders as he gripped your waist through the dress.

You started to pull him across the room by his shirt— towards the bed— and broke away to speak; he tried to chase your lips for more, but stopped when you bit your lip and rested a finger on his chin.

“You haven’t seen every part of me,” you corrected him— even though he barely fucking remembered saying that after a kiss like that.  “I mean, my body, sure, but… not who I really am.”

“Then show me that,” he pleaded.  “That’s what I want— you, everything.”

You smiled wide and kissed him again, the two of you toppling onto the bed together.  

He’d been thinking about doing this since the moment he saw you: pulling up the bottom of your dress so he could pet your thighs, enamored with the smoothness of your skin.  “Baby,” he purred when he caught sight of your panties— what little there was of them.  The lace just gave him a glimpse of what was beneath, a tease of your perfect little cunt.

“God, I need you so bad,” you groaned as you pulled him down for another kiss; he’d been hard since you wrapped your arms around him, and he could swear he was already throbbing by the time he rocked his hips against yours.  “Fuck— feels even bigger than it looked…”

“Maybe your computer screen wasn’t big enough,” he joked, making you laugh lightly before another moan came out when he rocked down on you again.  “What do you want, beautiful?”

“You… you know what I want…” you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Humor me,” he encouraged, moving in to kiss your neck— and loving the way you squirmed under him.

“Want— want you to fuck me,” you whimpered, “want you to make me— fuck— yours…”

He groaned deeply as he rutted his hips into yours harder, finally taunting you to the point that you had to reach down and start opening his pants.  “So eager,” he mocked playfully, as if he wasn’t going to ravage you the second you were done getting his cock out.

In fact, he almost tore your dress as he pulled it down to expose your chest, barely finding the time to appreciate the view of your tits before latching his mouth onto them.  “Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he smiled around the pert nipple in his mouth; these had seemed sensitive from the way you toyed with them as you touched yourself, but it was heaven on earth to confirm his suspicion himself.

“Want me to make you mine?” he prompted again, voice muffled by your delicate skin in his mouth, and you whimpered as you nodded.

“Yes— please—” you begged.

“Not sure I can do that,” he warned, and you gave him a confused look.  “You’re already mine, you told me yourself.”

You giggled, arching your back slightly as the tip of his tongue drew circles on you.  "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mhm," he confirmed.  "Hard to forget."

"Well, m'still yours," you offered, "but I need you right now, I'll do— fuck, anything, just—"

"You don't need to do anything," he assured, looking up at you as he moved his mouth from your breast down a little lower, "just lay back and I'm gonna take care of you."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Second I saw you I wanted to kiss you all over," he sighed.

"Well, I've got a couple ideas of where you can start," you smirked.

And yes, he would love to start there, but he needed to do his best not to rush this.  So, smiling up at you first, he began his journey.  His lips and tongue explored your body on his way down: a kiss here, a lick there, a playful bite when he felt extra naughty.  "You're so fucking beautiful," he mumbled against you.

"Yeah?  You too," you sighed.

He didn't think of himself like that— handsome, maybe, certainly aware of his better angles, but beautiful felt strange.  But he liked it, especially when you said it.  Especially when you said it while he was slotting his face between your legs.

It was even prettier up close, and the smell was fucking intoxicating: tangy and musky and sweet, heady, earthy, human.  And he knew you'd taste even better.

So he dove right in.  Maybe he should've started with your clit, that would've been the obvious choice, but his instincts led him to just slide his tongue right into your hole.  If nothing else, it certainly seemed to take you off guard, and you gasped as you grabbed onto his hair with both hands.

"Baby, fuck, that's— oh god, you can't imagine how many times I thought of this," you admitted, breathing heavy already.  He smiled against you, then gave you one big lick from the furthest down his tongue could reach all the way to the very top— all while holding fierce eye contact with you.  "Fu-uuuuck," you choked, dropping your head back just as your eyes rolled up.  "That's so… just do that again, please…"

He did it a few more times, noticing the way you seemed to get more impatient with each one, until your hips were chasing after his tongue.  "Stay still, baby, don't you trust me to do this right?" he purred, holding tighter on your hips.

"Yeah, I just— been so long," you whimpered.

He just did his best to find what made you scream the loudest and keep doing that— you were so sensitive, he just had to press his tongue down flat on your clit and move it in circles and you’d start shaking and sobbing and begging.  He moaned into you every time you tugged on his hair, having to rock his hips against the bed to appease his attention-deprived cock.

"You're… so amazing," you panted, "I— fuck! Oh god, I can't remember the last time someone—"

You never finished your thought, because he started fucking you with his tongue and you were too busy moaning his name, but he couldn't believe what a waste it was that nobody was eating this pussy on a regular basis.

"Gonna— oh fuck, yes, gonna come," you warned, "I… I'm gonna come so fucking hard…"

You started shaking, and he started fighting to keep you as still as he could so his work wouldn't be interrupted.  For a second he wondered if you were already coming or not— but then you made this noise, and your cunt clamped down on his tongue, and you cried out his name; it was perfect, it was the most beautiful moment he could ever imagine.

When it became too much, you went from tugging his hair to pushing him away with it, and he grinned up at you with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, and he saw the tear streaks on your temples and cheeks.  He traced one with his thumb before kissing you again— deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He hummed when your hands reached down to work on getting his pants off— eager and shaky, he certainly related to that.  As soon as your hand wrapped around his cock, he moaned, just from that.  He was almost embarrassed about it, until you bit his lip in playful encouragement.  "Does that feel good?" you purred.

"Yeah— your hands are better than mine," he laughed breathlessly.  

"How about this?" you raised an eyebrow, swiping your thumb over his slit, and he groaned as he rocked into your touch.

"God, baby…" he groaned.  As good as it felt, he found the strength to grab you by both your wrists and pin them down by your head.  You grinned, struggling just a bit, and moaned as he slid his cock against your soaking pussy.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, “feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

But he wasn’t teasing you— he was psyching himself up.

Believe it or not, he actually felt pretty nervous about this part.  Not for a lack of experience— for the entirely opposite reason.  Dieter had been with a lot of people, and for the most part, it was all… the same.  It all blended together— he only remembered those people from when he was a kid because he was a kid, and his romantic encounters were so few and far between.  He could remember details of his various partners from the last few years— Crystal who had a clit piercing, Marvin who begged to be choked, Cameron who seemed to enjoy giving him a blowjob even more than he enjoyed receiving it— but this, the actual sex, it was generally pretty interchangeable.  

So, he was worried that after all that build-up, after all the yearning and fantasizing and talking, that this would be the end of it being special— and you would just turn into a hook-up with a slightly more interesting backstory than the rest.  

As valid as that fear was, it was far from enough to stop him now, not when you were looking up at him and tightening your fists as he kept you pinned and silently begging for him with your eyes.

He had to let go of one of your hands to guide himself inside, but he interlaced the other with your fingers while he did it— and then, with one strong push, he was fully within you.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, “you feel… different.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little.  “Uh, different than what?”

Than everyone else.  “I— I don’t know,” he breathed, “I’m not making sense.”

“Not really,” you agreed with a laugh.

“Hard to think straight right now,” he defended.

It wasn’t just that you felt different— it was that this felt different: being with someone he really cared about, that he wanted to impress, that he wanted to see after this was over.

Someone that he never wanted to let go of.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you whimpered, “fuck, don’t stop— feels so good—”

One of the benefits of making you come on his tongue first was that he knew it wouldn't be that bad if he didn't last too long now— though that wasn't why he did it.  In fact, this was rarely his issue, if anything sometimes he struggled to finish for unclear reasons.

But even if he could get away with finishing quickly, he wanted to make this last as long as he could.  He never wanted this to end, actually.

As he found his pace— not too speedy yet, but with a bit of his eagerness showing— he kissed you again, deeply and hungrily.  He wondered if he'd ever done this before: kissing during sex.  He felt like he probably had, and yet he couldn't remember it— maybe that said more than anything.

This, on the other hand, was very memorable.  He slid his arms under you when your back arched, he held you tight and close and drank in every one of your moans through that kiss.

For how many times he’d pictured fucking you, he never really imagined it like this… and he thought he’d imagined it every way before.  But he realized that he’d mostly imagined it a bit kinker— you riding him, or him fucking you while you were bent over the table in his room, or 69’ing or something.  This was passionate, and sorta slow; this was his hips grinding on yours with every thrust so he could keep rubbing your sore clit; this was making love, he realized— if it wasn’t, he couldn’t imagine what was.

“I— fuck, baby— think I’m gonna come again,” you warned him with the most beautiful whiny sob.

“Fuck, already?” he smiled, and you nodded feverishly.  

“Just… don’t stop, please, just like that— fuuuuck!” you choked, and he gasped every time your walls clenched down on him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster and not letting up on the pressure from his pubic bone on your clit, even when you actually screamed under him.  “You’re so amazing, oh god, I—”

He heard it before he said it: I think I love you.  He stopped himself before blurting it out— maybe he’d tell you after, but he wasn’t so far gone to forget that this wasn’t the right time.  You’d think he didn’t really mean it, that it was just the delirium talking from how incredible you felt, but he knew it was so much more than that.

He shut himself up by kissing your neck— not too hard, but plenty to leave a mark, and make you squirm in the process.  Your hands wrapped around his back and your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the pain of it, he couldn’t feel anything but the sticky, resplendent heat of your body.

“So much fucking better than the goddamn dildos,” you said suddenly, and he laughed against your skin.  

“Do you miss all those people watching you come?” he wondered.

“No, fuck no,” you panted, “there’s nobody else but you.”

He couldn’t help but fuck you faster when you said that— you should’ve known better than to stroke his ego that way.

“Fuck!” you sobbed.  “Hector, baby, you’re so— oh god, I don’t know if I can take it—”

“Shh, you can,” he promised, “you can do anything, you can come for me again—”

“Oh fuck, I— I might,” you admitted shakily, “but then I’ll— I’ll fucking pass out or something.”

“No, you’ll be okay,” he promised, cooing at you softly.  “You’ll be so good for me, I know you will— just come for me one more time, baby, tell me what you need to come again.”

“I… just a little time is all I need,” you answered, voice breaking.  “I swear I’ve never— I’m not usually so— fuck, it’s just you—”

“I know,” he assured, loving the way you babbled praises but worried it would distract you from coming again; and if you didn’t soon, there wouldn’t be time before he lost it.  He was already barely able to keep his composure just from how beautiful you looked like this, let alone how you felt.  “I know, just let it happen, I know it’s right there for me— just come for me, beautiful—”

You dragged him down into a sloppy kiss, and he felt it— those incredible pulses inside you, waves of slick coating him until he felt sticky all the way down his thighs; your sobs were more precious than anything he’d ever heard.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he praised, fucking you even faster now as your head fell back limply.  “I can’t h-hold back anymore, I need to—”

“I know,” you said to him this time, “it’s okay, please— want you to…”

“You still— oh my god…” he choked, losing his train of thought for a moment.  “You still want me to come inside you?  Wanna be full?”

“Yes,” you whined, “yes, baby, please— wanna be so full of your come, I want everything—”

"Fuck, okay," he agreed, gasping as he tried to keep up his pace despite the growing pressure inside.  "I'm really fucking close…”

“I’m yours,” you told him again— and then he went from ‘really fucking close’ to ‘already fucking there’.  He came inside you with a long, whimpered groan; his head dropped onto your shoulder while each pump filled you, trying to catch his breath but feeling like he’d never find it again.

Admitting he loved you during sex wasn’t a good idea, but saying it immediately after wasn’t that much of an improvement.  Now, though, he was too exhausted to keep his mouth shut.  “I think I love you,” he blurted out suddenly.

For one incredibly long second, you didn’t react at all.  You looked up at him, and he hesitated to even look back because he didn’t want to see anything less than ecstasy on your face.  “Oh,” you said, “cool.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he anticipated, good or bad, but it wasn’t that.

“Let me know when you know,” you suggested.

“No!  No— I know,” he insisted, reaching up to hold your face, “I know.  I love you.  I think I did even before you came here, but… it just seemed so crazy.  We don’t know each other as well as we should for that, right?  But I feel it— I feel something that I just can’t explain—”

“Hey, slow down,” you laughed, “I feel it too.”

The way you smiled at him, resting your hand on his chest— was he glowing?  He felt like he was actually glowing.  “Good,” he decided.

“Let’s get to know each other better, then,” you announced.  “Start from the beginning, the whole thing: parents, siblings, school, favorite movies, worst dates, hot dogs or hamburgers—”

“No, you start,” he pouted, “you’re more interesting.”

“Me?  Please, I’m just your average camgirl titty streamer, don’t worry about it,” you scoffed.

“And I’m just some lame old Oscar winner,” he shrugged.

But both of you talked— all night, actually.  You never fell asleep, he was never even that tired— you kept him so full of energy he didn’t even notice how long it had been until the sun started to come up.  And then you kept talking at breakfast.  And then you fucked again, and talked some more after; he knew it had to end, eventually, but he didn’t even want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about you going home and letting something so perfect end.

He told you just as much on the last night— assuming you didn’t switch your flight home to a later day again.  You’d just been laying in his arms after another bout of passionately desperate fucking, both of you half-asleep but not wanting the separation of even just unconsciousness, and he blurted it out.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded under his breath.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” you returned softly.  

“I don’t want this to end.”

You were quiet for a while, turning over on your side to face him, tracing your fingers over his chest gently.  “It doesn’t have to end, just because I leave,” you mumbled.  “I know it’s crazy, but we can be together, even if we’re not… together.  I mean, I’m certainly not gonna be with anybody else—”

“Me either,” he said quickly, before he could change his own mind with the doubts— the voice in his head that said he could never settle down because he’s too fucked up.  “I only want you.”

“It’ll suck, being far away from each other— but you’ll be back Stateside eventually, right?” you assumed.

“God, I hope so,” he sighed, “if the world doesn’t end.”

“If it does,” you whispered, moving in closer, “I hope it’s tonight.  I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here.”

It was a romantic thought, but as he kissed you, he realized he’d never wanted the world to end less than he did right now.  He never longed for an apocalypse or anything, even on nights that his doubts and anxieties made him yearn for oblivion just for himself, but just now he could’ve cried thinking about everything falling apart tonight.  Whether it be by fiery explosion or a quiet, instant disappearance, he couldn’t let armageddon happen now— now that he had you.  For the first time, he saw himself having a future, in a way he never had before.  Existing as a ‘celebrity’ meant being on the edge of irrelevance at any moment, knowing this could all go away overnight and you’d just be ‘that guy who was in that thing that one time’.  

But this time, he stood on a precipice of something wonderful, of something natural, and it was the most beautifully terrifying unknown.  It was tomorrow.  Tomorrow, you’d get on the plane; tomorrow, you’d leave, because the world wasn’t going to end tonight.  But his life was going to start tonight, and he didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

[toxic3mmy]

being like all bratty ( i think that’s the word) and all to Quackity and he ends up fucking the shit out of you?

ummm yes??? this sounds sooooo hot teehee, thx for the request!!

[it turned out a little more loving than rough sex.. oops??]

prompt: you and alex have a project due and he keeps slacking off until he’s had enough of your bratty attitude

warnings: nsfw! smut smutty smuttt!

it was finally 7:30 pm. alex said he would meet you at the college library to finish up your project after work and you had been waiting on him there for almost an hour now. the good thing was that you were alone and had time to focus on your part of the slideshow.

you had about two slides left when you heard a huge thud on the table you were sat at. you looked up and saw alex smiling sheepishly at you.

“sup nerd, you almost done with our project?” he said as he sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the table

you rolled your eyes and said with an annoyed face,

“yeah right, come on let’s get this over with already” you grumbled

“actually, shit… i forgot my laptop” alex said while looking through his backpack. he looked up at you and asked

“mind if i go get it? i’m pretty sure i left it at my house and it’s not far from here�� he didn’t even wait for me to respond, already collecting his things to go

“wait, maybe we should just do the project at yours… they close the library in thirty minutes anyways” you said, feeling even more annoyed than before because now you were going to be forced to be alone with alex

“cool, let’s go” he walked out of the school and to his car in the parking lot

you felt a bit uncomfortable and nervous as you got into his passenger seat. you weren’t sure why but his very existence got so deep under your skin that it really pissed you off. maybe it was his arrogant personality or maybe it was the way every girl at your college drooled over him, or maybe it was both. the truth is, you also felt an attraction for alex but you refused to be like every other brainless bimbo at school. you liked to think that you actually had taste when it came to guys.

your thoughts were interrupted by alex parking his car and getting out, having you follow him. he unlocked the door to his house and let you in. he got comfortable and led you into an office like room where you assumed he did his homework and probably his streaming. he had a huge desk with a pc setup as well as note taking materials next to the pc. there was also a small couch and that’s where you decided to put your backpack.

“here, i’ll go get a chair for you to sit next to me” alex broke the silence between you too. you nodded silently and took all your notes out to finally finish this project.

“sit” he said as he placed another office chair next to his fancy gamer chair

you chuckled to yourself

“what?” he asked, genuinely confused

“oh nothing… just realized you have a gamer chair.. it’s so uwu of you” you teased him and laughed even louder

“says the one that dresses like an e girl with all those fishnets and eyeliner” he said mockingly

“don’t even! i know you’re not judging my clothing choices when you legit always look like adam sandler plus that stupid beanie you never take off”

“can you shut up? we have a project to work on” alex said in a sarcastic manner

you didn’t say anything in response to him. instead, you went over what you had finished with your part of the project. you then kept talking about some ways for alex to tie his part into yours so that it would all flow seamlessly. you were pointing out certain topics in your textbook when you look up to see alex typing away on his phone.

“dude… are you serious? i was over here talking to the fucking wall i guess! were you seriously not listening to me?”

he simply put a finger up as if telling you to wait for him to finish texting. you waited impatiently and after a few minutes, he finally put down his phone.

“my bad, i have this thing i’ve been working on with team members for our twitch.. but uh yeah of course i heard everything you said.” he lied and it made anger begin to boil up inside of you.

“how much do you even have done?” you asked, trying to calm yourself down

“oh uh.. i have all my pictures set up in the powerpoint” he said as if it were something to be proud about

you grit your teeth together as you realized what he meant by that

“you haven’t even started on your section?? i cannot believe you…” you groaned really annoyed now

“yes i have started! it’s not my fault that i need to do work stuff in my free time” he said as he messed with a pen on his desk

“ohhh, you have a twitch event that you’ve been working on for weeks? aw thats so cool, yeah i seriously don’t give a fuck. you had all semester and you don’t even care! it’s our senior year and uni is something that we need to take seriously i mean this counts towards our final! i don’t want to have to fucking repeat this class just because you’re a careless arrogant selfish piece of shit!”

“woah woah, what the fuck is your issue?!” he began to lose his cool, sitting up and facing towards you as he raised his voice

“you’re my problem! like dude i get that you play your little video games on stream and that seems to be what you worry about most but i actually want to get a good career and i actually care about my grades! unlike you! you think that just because everyone likes you, you’ll get everything handed to you. well sorry to burst your bubble but clicking and clacking on your keyboard all day long isn’t going to prepare you for the real world!”

“who the fuck do you think you are? you have no right to say any of this to me, are you kidding?” alex was now standing up and towering over you

“look… i just had a bad day okay? i worked really early this morning and i honestly would much rather be in bed right now than arguing with you i mean, we’re not even getting any work done! god this is pointless..” you sighed, running your hands through your hair as you felt afraid to look alex in his eyes

“i worked today too, ya know. but you don’t see me being so prissy and uptight about a damn project that won’t even matter in a year.”

“yeah well im sure my work was way more productive and hard than you playing dumb computer games all day”

“listen you little brat, you have no right to tell me anything about my career choices. and for the record, my dumb little twitch job is making me more money each month than youd ever see after years of whatever boring fucking corporate job you get into” alex said, holding you tightly by your t shirt

“yeah fucking right. you’re just a lazy idiot! all you had to do was finish a few slides and we’d be through here and you can’t even do that. i’m leaving, thanks for nothing” you spit out angrily as you hastily began to pack your things to leave

alex was silently in deep thought. as you reached the door, he tugged your backpack back and off of your shoulder. he grabbed you rather harshly and your back was pushed up against his bedroom door.

“you’re not going anywhere. you think you can just walk out of here after insulting me and being a shitty little brat?!”

“what?..” you asked quietly

“you heard me y/n, you’re being a fucking brat.. and brats should be treated the way they deserve” he spoke hotly against your lips before leaning forward and kissing you

you weren’t prepared for him to kiss you so sweetly. you practically melted against his lips. you kissed back until he whimpered and brought you back to reality.

“ugh! get off of me, asshole!” you pushed his chest roughly but before you could make any other move, he caught your arm

“i know you want me y/n, i see the way you look at me. you and every other girl at school are just so thirsty for me huh? look at these tiny skirts you always wear.. you’re just asking for it” he smirked as his fingers danced up your thigh and touched your skirt

“ha! i don’t want you. unlike the girls at school, i have a brain and i sure as fuck would never touch you” you lied to his face

you gasped and felt your face go red as his hand was now touching the fabric of your panties

“then why are you soaking wet for me?” he chuckled as he pulled your panties aside and played with your wet folds

he walked you towards his bed, sitting you down as he hovered over you.

“i fucking hate you!” you angrily smashed your lips to his.

your tongue slid across his lips, asking for entrance. alex greedily let your tongue slide against his. your hands tangled in his hair and tugged harshly as he continued to touch you.

“i hate you too, you fucking brat. now be a good girl and taked this top off for me” his lips connected with yours as you shakily unbuttoned your school top and threw it aside.

you reached out and began to unzip his pants just enough to release his hardened cock. he moaned at the contact and continued to play with your slick heat as you started to move your hands up and down his dick.

he pulled away from the kiss and pulled your hair in a ponytail with one hand and held your palm upwards with his other.

“spit” he demanded and you did what he asked

he then moved your wet hand to his cock and let go of your hair. he went back to rubbing your throbbing clit. you moved your hand and he was practically thrusting into your touch.

“alex… please” you whispered and tried to lead his leaking dick to your pussy but alex stopped you

“aw come on y/n, you can do better than that. you just love to yap and insult me, don’t you, you little brat? why don’t you put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use and beg for me. beg me to fuck you”

at this point, you needed him so badly and you didn’t care how desperate you looked as you complied with his demands.

“please alex, i need you so badly. please just fuck me and i promise to be nicer to you. im so wet for you..” you moaned out as his fingers finally stopped teasing you and entered your quivering hole

“tell me you want me.. tell me y/n” he said in a lustful voice, his fingers curling deeper into you. his lips attached to one of your hard nipples, deliciously tracing circles with the tip of his tongue

“oh fuck.. i n-need you, i want you alex! i’ve wanted you since i first saw you! i hate you so much but i want you to fuck me, please!” you were rutting against his hand needing more

he laughed as he was amused and feeling very satisfied with your response. he stopped touching you completely and undressed himself. he then reached out and stripped you of your shirt and panties, leaving the two of you completely naked.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he said, looking at you hungrily

“get on your hands and knees, show me that pretty ass”

you did what he asked needing him inside of you now. he groaned at the sight of your round ass on view for him. as he pushed himself inside of you, you arched your back from pleasure. he began to move slowly as you adjusted to the stretch. the second you started moaning, he grabbed your hips and mercilessly pounded into you.

“fuck! you’re so tight y/n” his hand made harsh contact with a loud smack on your ass

you fucked back onto his cock, feeling so overcome with pleasure

“a-alex, ‘m so close” you whimpered

he stopped fucking into you and sat up in his bed. he gently tugged you towards him, motioning to sit on his lap

“come ride me, sweetheart” he said huskily and of course, you obliged

you sat on his dick, feeling every inch of him fill you up. you were in complete bliss as you began to ride him slowly. alex leaned forward and hugged you to his body as he kissed your lips. you fought his tongue with yours for dominance as the two of you rocked together in a sweet rhythm.

“you feel so good… so so good alexis” you whispered in broken sobs

“yeah, baby girl? aw just look at you. you’re so needy for me aren’t you?”

you rocked your hips, grinding his cock into you. he was so deep inside of you and you couldn’t help but want more. he hit just the right spot inside of your needy cunt and you moaned loudly. your back arched as you threw your head back in pure bliss. alex kissed up your neck as he had full access. he pulled you closer to him, tucking your hair behind your ear gently

“you’re so beautiful y/n, i could do this forever. would you like that? would you like to be my fuck toy? i could use you whenever i please, yeah? tell me how good i feel, hermosa” he said as he looked into your eyes.

“you feel incredible.. you’re making me feel things i’ve never felt before.. please use me whenever” you said breathlessly

“such a good girl” alex praised, kissing you ever so gently as you continued to move at the same pace together

“a-alex, i’m so close”

“cum with me y/n, cum with me” he whimpered, letting out the sweetest whines and speeding his hips to meet yours

he held your hips still as he fucked into you faster and faster, chasing both of your highs

with loud gasps and moan, you both climax together.

alex slows his pace to a stop and you both catch your breath.

“y/n…?”

“yeah?” you breathe out, finally getting off of alex and laying down next to him

“i finished my part of the project yesterday, i just wanted to mess with you” he grinned and you smacked him playfully

“alex! you ass!”

“hey.. it worked out well for us didn’t it?” he smiled innocently

“come on, let’s shower. im all sweaty” alex says, pulling you up and towards his shower

[manchestereyes]

i don't know if i can express how utterly unremarkable phil is not on fire was supposed to be, but i'm going to try.

so. as we may know, phil had recently done a week of q&a videos with similar questions to pinof. one of them was even with a friend (which we'll get back to later), proving to phil that this was a good format to use with a guest. here's where i start theorizing.

from the day they met, dnp were already quite committed to each other, even if neither of them knew it yet. in phil's paranormal activity video, he shows that love was one of the things that was falling into place for him. he hadn't yet realized that he was in love with dan, but he pretty much was. this explains why phil acted so differently with dan than he did with his friend in the zebra video (forgot his name oops). he had been falling hard for dan over the past few months and now dan was here, in his space, living and breathing and flirting with and even kissing phil. and best of all, phil's parents weren't around to bother them. they could just be.

so when phil turned on the camera, he was probably feeling pretty free. and as we see, he's completely different with dan than he was with his other friend. with dan, phil smirks and smiles more. they're pressed up against each other for nearly the entire video, while phil and his other friend are on opposite corners of phil's bed. phil leans his head into dan's chest because neither of them could contain their joy. and most importantly, i don't think he would've tackled anyone else.

dan, the theatre kid himself, wasn't even putting on a persona like he did on his own channel. this was just dan and phil being dan and phil. pinof 1 is probably the most raw, unfiltered version of them that we're ever going to get.

they didn't continue to see each other because of pinof. they continued to see each other because they were (and are!) in love and couldn't keep their hands off of each other. it just so happened that pinof took off and they happened to fit together really well.

speaking of, can we talk about how all the stars aligned so perfectly to bring them together? phil was desperate for a relationship at the time. dan needed someone he could count on, who could hold as much space for him as needed. he was also desperate to leave his hometown - and manchester just happened to be a 3 1/2 hour train journey away. falling in love was inevitable for him, as inevitable as it was for phil who had been searching for the emo boy of his dreams for years at that point.

so they kept making videos together because they loved it and each other. plus, it was already starting to bring opportunities, like phil doing apartment red when he met dan. and then when dan had his uni breakdown and dropped out, they decided this was it. either they go full steam ahead with youtube or they fade into obscurity and get regular jobs. obviously we know which option they chose... and here we are now.

it's truly wild when you think about it, isn't it?

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jason Dean x yandere/dark! reader; you surprise him with slushies for breakfast

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, suggestive stuff/frank sex talk as well as implied sex/smutish activities, mentions of insomnia, implied murder, the reader is very clingy and affectionate with JD (almost to a smothering amount but he doesn't mind), this is one of the more tame things I've written tbh

A/N: this is a twist on the "one character gets a blue drink and the other gets a red so naturally their tongues become purple by making out" trope. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes so I could have something posted for heathers day, which is September 1st, so if this sucks then that's why and I'm sorry (and then I got distracted and forgot so it's a day late oops)

JD used to think he hated sleeping in general, but after meeting you he just realized he hated sleeping alone. Laying in bed after downing half a bottle of melatonin gummies while waiting for sleep to kick in wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Lucky for him, you had plenty ways of resolving that issue.

Admittedly, they did a pretty good job at working effectively given that most of them involved you physically wearing him out. Whether it was with murder or sex, either way certainly made it easier for him to slip into a state of exhaustion and conk out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't mind much. In fact, the act of you tiring him out as quickly as possible once he complained about being unable to sleep was one that he quite enjoyed. He preferred to stay with you anyway. There was nothing at his house that made it worth sticking around other than the few vague personal effects of his, and most of them he'd transferred over to your place already.

The sun was already starting to peek through the blinds when he woke up, which signified he must've slept for a good long while. That didn't surprise him given just how late the two of you had stayed up the night before, but what did surprise him was your absence. Usually you waited until he woke up to leave the bed, or at the very least told him if you were going to get up.

Thank god you walked into the room a few minutes later, because otherwise he would've started to panic, and that was definitely not something he wanted to be doing so early in the morning.

"Hey, baby," you greeted as you kicked off your shoes and set two large Styrofoam cups you'd gotten from the 7/11 near your house on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

JD could practically feel his heartbeat start to slow back down once he saw you. You hadn't abandoned him, you just went out to get some slushies. No problem.

"Mh, yeah," he mumbled groggily as he sat up in the bed, watching you slip off his trenchcoat and toss it to the side. If he had been more awake, the sight of you wearing his clothes would've given him an instant boner, but the drowsiness he still felt was currently cancelling that out.

"Good, I'm glad." You sat down on the bed next to him, gently smoothing his messy hair back from his face before handing him one of the Styrofoam cups. "Here, I know how much you crave slushies the night after sex."

He gladly took the cup from you, immediately taking a big sip. "Thanks." It still felt weird, having someone being so affectionate and loving with him after everything he'd been through. A huge part of him felt like he didn't deserve it, but he knew you'd never leave him even if that was true. Something about how attached you were should've been unnerving, but JD was pretty unnerving himself so he wasn't bothered by it.

"Did you seriously wear your pajamas to go get slushies?" He asked after a moment, his brain finally catching up as he began to wake up more. The cold, sweet drink in his hands certainly helped matters.

"Well, I wasn't going to put on real clothes," you insisted lightheartedly before drinking some of your own slushie, which just so happened to be the opposite color of his. "Besides, we both know they're not going to stay on much longer anyway."

"Oh god," he muttered under his breath, though he was unable to keep the faint smirk of amusement off his face when you said that.

"Here, lemme have your drink for a moment." You placed both cups back on the nightstand before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he hadn't gotten properly dressed yet.

"C'mon, I wasn't finished," he complained with a slight huff even as he let you push him flat onto his back with no other protest.

"You can finish later. For now, I say we take the blue and red from our drinks and make purple." Your voice came out in a low tease when you spoke, your body hovering over his as you leaned down to capture his lips in another kiss.

Both of your tongues were successfully colored purple and your drinks were no longer cold when you were done, but it was so worth it.

[silversodas]

A New Wish Is Getting Interesting

First I want to give props to them putting this fairy lore reference in the show, because it took me off guard

According to fairy folklore, fairies were believed to be fallen angels that were too good to go to Hell but not good enough to go back to heaven. I don’t think this is going anywhere besides this reference but this is the coolest fairy folklore reference I have seen yet! Side note over

Now what’s really interesting is when Poof/now named Peri has entered the chat

If I remember correctly, Wanda’s maiden name (or maybe they hyphened their last names? Idk) is Periwinkle. His full name, Periwinkle Cosma is his parents last names together, that’s really cute!! Peri also has style, not just his outfit, but has extra detailing on his wings if you look closely, and his wand rattle is now a magic cane, it would be so cool if when he grants a wish he bangs the cane on the ground, like in Nanny McPhee. It wouldn’t really work in fairy form since fairies don’t touch the ground, but it would look cool as Hell if he has a human disguise like Cosmo and Wanda

When watching episode one and the 10,000 years through time and space trip kept coming up I had the theory that they retired because losing Timmy hurt them and the sabbatical they went on was a way to cope but I think their absence hurt Peri too. Cosmo and Wanda mention Peri in part one of lost and founders day to Hazel’s parents and I love how they referenced that Cosmo had him

“That’s what it felt like when I had him, I MEAN WHEN WANDA HAD HIM!!”

But after Hazel’s parents asked where he was Wanda looked really sad and sounded defeated “oh, we don’t know” she try’s to play it off but then spills that they forgot while they were on vacation for ten thousand years and then ran away when they realized they sounded crazy.

My heart freaking sank! So here is what happened according to the limited context I got. Cosmo and Wanda had to let go of Timmy, and can’t be Godparents anymore because it hurts. They cope by going on an extremely long vacation and it really does sound like they accidentally shut out Peri. And judging by the way Wanda said “we don’t know” and how defeated she sounded I think Peri went no contact with Cosmo and Wanda and damn that’s sad Cosmo actually seems straight up heart broken (bet Peri was a Daddy’s boy)

But! Peri being Dev’s Fairy Godfather introduces an interesting situation. Hazel is mad at Dev and Dev wants Hazel back as a friend, and Peri probably doesn’t want anything to do with his parents and his parents want him back. So they are probably going to have Peri not ready to forgive Cosmo and Wanda but does work with them to get Hazel and Dev to be friends again and their relationship slowly repairs over time. And we get more context to that 10,000 year trip.

Edit: I just remembered that Wanda’s last name was fairywinkel oops

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

A/N: So, I was working on a story and then I couldn't edit it anymore... Probably cuz I took too long. Oops. Sorry @starry-fool

Sing With Me?

The Hat of Fate can burn.

Because of that accursed thing, you were now sitting in the living room of one Quinn Fabray. As the new kid in school, she scared the ever living shit out of you. While she wasn't quite the HBIC anymore, Quinn was still quite intimidating. What sucked further was that the two of you couldn't agree on ANYTHING.

"What about this one?"

"We've done that song already."

"This one?"

"No."

You had been at this for the past hour. Almost every suggestion you had was rejected one way or another. Quinn wasn't helping either. It was as if she wasn't even trying. It was frustrating.

"You suggest something then!" You groan, throwing your arms in the air. "Even if you don't care, it's still an assignment."

The blonde just rolls her eyes and levels you with a glare.

"Look. It doesn't matter anyway. Rachel and Finn are gonna sing, Mr. Schue will fawn over them and the rest of us are shoved into the sidelines. That's just how it is."

"That can change! There are so many great voices in the club. There's always a chance."

At that, Quinn slams her hand onto the table, startling you into silence.

"Things aren't going to change! Why bother trying!? If Mercedes and Santana can't, then we definitely have no shot. So just give up, dumbass!"

The other girl gets up and stomps away, leaving you stunned. You try not to cry. You were never great when someone yelled at you. Regardless, after a moment, you slowly gather your things and move to put your shoes on and leave. Why fight a losing battle?

-----+++++-----

Quinn felt horrible. After hearing the front door close, she knew she screwed up. She knew she forgot the main reason for the Glee Club's existence.

Acceptance. Love of singing. Love of each other.

She had to apologize, but you weren't making it easy. The next day at school, Quinn couldn't find you at all outside of class. It was clear you were avoiding her and it made her feel even worse.

By the time lunch came around, Quinn nearly gave up her search. It wasn't until she heard rhythmic tapping coming from an empty classroom. Peeking her head in, the blonde finds you sitting, headphones on while tapping a pencil onto the desk. She was about to get your attention, but then you started singing.

I could play any game with you

I could say what you want me to

I could lie, I could lie

She listens to your voice and suddenly realizes that your voices would mesh incredibly well together without her changing her natural tone too much. So she stands there, listening further while you continue to lose yourself into the song. The song was unfamiliar, but it was easy enough for her to pick up the chorus.

So she does and joins in the next time it comes around.

Even through your headphones, you hear Quinn's voice and it startles you.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" You ask, standing up and pulling the headphones from your head.

"Looking for you," she replies with a smile. "I wanted to apologize for last night. Honestly, I shouldn't care about the drama and politicking. I've been in too much of it and I'm tired." She shakes her head. "Let's just have fun and sing, yeah? That's what we're in the club for, right?"

Her hand reaches out towards yours and waits. It was an offering. Of friendship? Of teamwork? All of the above? You weren't sure, but you were willing to find out. Your hand grasps hers and you look into those shining hazel eyes.

"Let's figure out what to sing then."

Quinn pulls you out of the classroom and you walk alongside her.

"Actually, I really liked the song you were singing. Teach me that one?"

Her hand never lets go of yours.

-----+++++-----

In the span of the week, you and Quinn work on your duet. Together, you figure out the lyrics and arrangement relatively quickly and dedicate the rest of your time to rehearsal. It doesn't take long for you to notice a shift in your relationship though.

You're sitting in Quinn's living room again. While you were opposite each other, you were still sitting close enough for your knees to touch. Quinn's voice blends with yours as you practice. But at a certain lyric, your eyes meet and there's a sudden tension in the room.

And if I go, will you love me

Will you love me when I come back

You were performing tomorrow. You were going to show the club that a performance doesn't need the best voices. You just needed to have fun. You and Quinn had worked hard to show this.

But this? This seemed like so much more.

The singing had ebbed as soon as you locked eyes. The air was so heavy, you could hardly breathe. It wasn't until Quinn's eyes flicked to your lips did you look away.

"Heh... I think we have that, what did Mr. Schue say? Vocal chemistry?" You say awkwardly. You could feel Quinn's eyes boring into you. "M-maybe we'll convince him to change things up, yeah?"

Suddenly, there was a hand on your cheek and you were staring into hazel eyes again.

"It doesn't matter if Mr. Schue changes things," Quinn says. Did she get even closer to you? She got even closer to you. You can feel her breath against your face. "But maybe we can still shake things up a little."

The smirk she pulls draws your attention to her lips and now you can't look away. You lean in and press your lips to hers. It starts out soft and tentative. You feel Quinn let out a soft sigh before pressing a little further into you. When you finally part, a small laugh escapes from you.

"Yeah, that'll shake things up."

Quinn just pulls you against her again.

"And as great as that is, I just want to 'sing' with you again."

Another kiss, plus many more, follow. You don't end up rehearsing anymore. Things were more than perfect.

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[larothoughts]

qijiu thoughts: complicated codependence

after reading a few more shen jiu fics i figured maybe the diverging point when it comes to fan-interpretation is understanding how codependent qijiu is. like, it's not just qi-ge who won't let go of shen jiu, shen jiu 100% spitefully, unwillingly yet helplessly refuses to let go of qi-ge either. the obvious author answer to this is for sj to remove himself from qi-ge because of toxic codependence (see my rant on anti-qijiu pro-sj fics), except i don't think it's in-character for him to ever do so??

the man literally died twice because he couldn't let go of qi-ge until the very, very end. he'll never give up on him as easily as he does in fic, this man is a canonical stubborn asshole who can't let go of anything. that's his entire problem lol

(first time was obviously after lbh gave him xuan su's shards. sj, who had spent the entire time being tortured refusing to bend, cracks at the realization that qi-ge came this time and died. i forgot if him eating xuan su's shards is canon in the qijiu extras or if it's a fanon theory, but i 100% find this in-character of sj to do as a final f*** you to the universe.)

(second time was the qi deviation that caused shen yuan to take over his life. i'll go over this later, but i believe sqh, who transmigrated decades before, likely tried to nudge qijiu into reconciling and instead made it worse. so while in the og!pidw universe, sj never deviated hard enough to die; in this svsss universe, sqh trying to get sj to face his own heart demons literally caused him to die. oops. system got pretty mad because lbh MUST go into the abyss, and so had to scramble to find a sj replacement lol)

preface

much of this is my own interpretation of things btw. i haven't read the qijiu extras in a while so it's very possible some of these things don't follow canon. especially the whole cognitive dissonance part. i've always leaned towards the 'shen jiu is an unreliable, in-denial narrator of his own story, he can't admit anything to himself until he's literally at death's door' interpretation of sj's tsundereness, so that's 100% my own bias peeking through here.

how qing ding peak made everything worse

this a fanon theory i like that has merit given how long qijiu had problems: things would've been so much different if yue qi wasn't chosen by qing ding. like, literally any other peak, qijiu would've had 75% chance of having a happy ending. i feel like any peak with a halfway decent lord with basic empathy skills would have thought 'hmm yes, if we rescue the friend of this little prodigy we can ensure his loyalty to us for life' instead of 'let's dangle the chance of rescuing his friend as a way to get this kid to work as hard as he can until it's too late, then allow the failure to break him down completely so we can reshape him into the perfect successor.' though to be honest the former sect leader probably didn't expect yue qi to literally be broken down.

my thought is that the sect leader kept putting off the rescue over and over, hoping to drag things out until the inevitable happened. but yue qi, naturally wary of adults, panicked once he realized what his shizun was doing. he tried to pull xuan su without permission to force the leader into acknowledging his strength and letting him go... which then led to the entire soul-binding fiasco we see in canon. sure, the former sect leader could've lost his newest experiment, but throwing him into the caves had the bonus of making him late anyway. so a success all around everyone!

we can further theorize the character of the previous sect leader (and how his grooming of yue qi possibly led to his guilt complex and inability to communicate his honest feelings) but ultimately it was qing ding peak's teachings itself that led to yqy's inability to reconcile with sj. because qing ding is the diplomat's peak. the politics peak. the peak where people often cannot say exactly what they mean, must never overtly show favor to anyone, must control every single thing they do or say else the political fallout ruins their sect's reputation.

so it really didn't help that their reunion happened in the middle of sj committing pretty bad crimes like murdering and looting disciples. yue qi went immediately into political clean-up mode, sj misunderstood yue qi's silence as 'i will never tell you' instead of 'not now sj we need to bury these bodies in the bushes', and then later sj was so scornful yue qi's guilt-complex kicked in and he figured 'sj will never forgive me, obviously he doesn't want to hear excuses.' and as yue qi's political position grew, the less he could overtly support and protect shen jiu. the more careful he was of his words and actions, so far removed from the qi-ge sj once knew that sj can't help but lash out. by the time yqy was mentally well enough to talk about the lingxi cave fiasco (if ever), sj had already built up a protective wall of 'this qi-ge is an imposter, the real qi-ge would not have left me.' and yqy didn't know how to tell him the truth without sj's psyche collapsing in on itself. so... he just continued not to tell him.

in which qi-ge is alive but also dead, as declared by shen jiu

sj barely recognized qi-ge once they reunited. yue qi has always been the peacemaker amongst the rowdy slaves, sure, but he'd always been on sj's side. he told sj everything, things he never told the other slaves, and only really clammed up when they were facing beatings by adults in a true us-versus-them scenario. now, however, he's clamming up with shen jiu. he hates it, this intrinsically qi-ge thing that this fake qi-ge doesn't realize he's doing. more than the shiny clothes and well-fed appearance, this is what makes the chasm between them feel real. qi-ge never came back for him, because qi-ge was dead. cang qiong killed qi-ge and all that's left is this qi-ge puppet going through motions of caring for sj it obviously doesn't understand.

(this is easier for him to accept, because if yue qi wasn't mentally dead than he really did willingly abandon shen jiu in the dirt, and accepting that would make shen jiu lose his mind.)

now what to do when qi-ge is dead and he doesn't need sj to protect him anymore? logically, sj should've stayed long enough to fix his cultivation, save up funds, and then leave to become a rogue cultivator before his past had the chance to catch up to him. but sj is not logical. he's spiteful and angry and contrary. he claws his way up the disciple hierarchy on qing jing and spits in the face of yue qi's awkward overtures. he hates the other qing jing disciples, his own shizun, lqg and a bunch of the other head disciples; in fact, he hates cang qiong as a whole because they were the ones that took qi-ge away from him. but at the end of the day, a dead qi-ge puppet is still kind of qi-ge and even if qi-ge threw sj away that didn't mean the reverse was true. sj will not give even a dead puppet qi-ge up; he belongs to him whether he likes it or not (/spitefully).

so as it becomes clearer and clearer that yue qi will indeed become the next sect leader, sj begrudgingly finds himself stuck in cang qiong. one would think things would get better after the former peak lords ascend, since that meant the evil brainwashing sect leader and the resentful qiu-naming qing jing peak lord would've finally fucked off. but no, things actually get worse.

because now that the former sect leader isn't actively sabotaging qijiu's relationship (sure, he didn't mean to break yue qi's mind that bad, but even the worst broken eggs can be turned into a decent obedient successor, except shen jiu's continued existence is threatening to undo all his hard work) yue qi is more able to try and make overt amends. the problem is, by acting more like the real qi-ge, he's threatening sj's mental defense of 'qi-ge is dead, this qi-ge is a fake.'

when cognitive dissonance gives you qi deviations

the more qi-ge acts like he's honestly sorry, the more shen jiu must accept that qi-ge isn't dead. that he either chose to leave sj behind (devastating given sj's abandonment issues) or was forced to leave sj behind and refused to tell him why (more abandonment issues; does he not trust sj anymore??) worse for peak morale, the more overtly sj rejects yqy, the more annoyed the other peak lords get. doesn't sj know how bad it looks for their sect, to have their top two lords fighting like this?? why is yqy not shutting it down, isn't he a politician?

well yes, but as sect leader he now has the freedom to pick and choose when to put his politicking hat on. lqg follows sqq to a brothel and causes a ruckus in the middle of the street? scold sqq for being so overt, because they both know the best way into the brothel is through the back via code word! they learned how to sneak into brothels as street kids ages ago and sqq could have totally done so discreetly! argue with lqg but refuse to explain himself? sqq please, he can't take your side for no reason, especially in front of all these peak lords who already knows he favors you!!

and because shen jiu is facing the cognitive dissonance of qi-ge's... qi-ge-ness, he sets up tests rigged to fail no matter how yqy responds. this way he is always right! if yqy sides with sj, sj's annoyed because he's clearly trying to placate him like a child. if yqy sides against sj, he's obviously choosing to abandon sj again!!

yqy is fully aware of the trap because yqy is a trained politician capable of reading social cues (and sj hasn't changed all that much from when they were kids, he still has that same spiteful edge to him yqy is so fond of). he intentionally falls for them because (1) he deserves to be hated by sj and (2) being hated by sj keeps him from lashing out too much at the other peak lords. yqy is very used to sj's temper tantrums, it's when he lashes out at other people that things become unmanageable.

(during the latter half of their rule over cang qiong, i feel that yqy learned to stop actively chasing reconciliation. he came around for tea and present-giving, kept things civil, and still let sj get away with all kinds of terrible things. he fell for all of sj's traps with his eyes wide open and it infuriates sj, everything about this drives him mad. he doesn't want this soft, unspoken affection, because this was how qi-ge used to handle sj's tsundereness back when they were on the streets. it's another sign that qi-ge is still qi-ge, and this fact brings sj both selfish comfort and undeniable agony.)

it's an awkward balancing act that continues to sour sj's reputation with the other peak lords, but it's mostly manageable until sqh sticks his nose into their business and pushes sj over the edge.

how transmigrators ruin everything

"maybe yqy did something impulsive, did you think of that? why can't you forgive him, he tried so hard? aren't you tired of being angry all the time?" bitch no, sj has been keeping the worst of the qi deviations away for years by performing mental gymnastics around his walls of denial stOP KNOCKING THEM DOWN. Even worse, lbh arrives on the peak and shen jiu hates him. not just because he's got all the potential shen jiu had stolen away from him, but he's so glad to be here. he's making his mother proud. all while shen jiu was dragged here essentially against his will, trapped himself in this bamboo prison out of spite, and then realized the dead thing he's been looking after for decades isn't dead after all. that qi-ge actually did, for realsies, leave him at the qius. that all these overtures, the silent acceptance of his faults, everything could just be out of guilt (qi-ge is ashamed of him) and not out of a ghost reenacting its former lingering affection (the real qi-ge would've still loved him.)

the dissonance, abandonment issues, frustration and everything culminates in a devastating qi deviation. ironically, now that yqy's rule is mostly secure and sj's reputation has soured enough to start negatively affecting the sect, sj finally feels safe enough to let go. in this moment of emotional clarity, sj finally releases qi-ge from his grasp and decides to die.

that was not supposed to happen.

qi-ge's no good, very bad sacrifice

in another universe where og!sqh was too busy plotting to betray cang qiong mountain, the frosty and emotionally charged stand-off between yqy and sj continues for years. then, lqg dies. i'm torn between yqy believing sj killed lqg or not. either way, i don't think he'd be 'disappointed' in sj as portrayed in some fics. i also don't think it would infuriate sj that yqy thinks he's capable of killing lqg, because if anyone knows how much of a murder kitten shen jiu is, it's yqy. maybe he's offended yqy thinks him dumb enough to kill him in such a sloppy way. maybe he's even more offended that this turns the other peak lords against him and yqy just lets it happen.

or maybe (through my qijiu-tinted glasses) it pisses him off that yqy does tell the peak lords that they should all stand together, and the other peak lords ignore him and hate sj anyway. they're disrespecting yqy because they think he is compromised, and sj worked too goddamn hard to solidify yqy's position to have it undone by a murder he didn't even do.

(ironically, if lqg was alive he'd tell the other peak lords to f*** off for disobeying yqy. lqg's canon respect for yqy is something i feel needs more acknowledgement, likely because i feel half the reason they don't get along is because of sj's utter disrespect of their sect leader. who cares if sj is a street rat or the son of a wealthy family, no one disrespects yue-shixiong!)

now the story of sj's road to becoming lbh's plaything is a well-worn track that everyone knows. i do subscribe to the idea that sj took one look at huan hua's eagerness, lbh's vendetta, and yqy's recklessness and made the same decision he did in the svsss verse: he'd rather qi-ge be free (happy) than dead. this is a battle he cannot win, and he'll be damned if he lets lbh drag cang qiong down with him. when yqy promises him he'll save him from the water prison, sj spits in his face and tells him for the final time that xiao jiu and qi-ge are both dead. he let sj go decades ago, and now sj is letting qi-ge go in return.

sj faces the torture with the tenacious spirit of someone who'd withstood worse torture for years. in fact, he's a bit impressed by lbh taking revenge on him the same way sj took revenge on qiu jianluo. either way, even with more than 50% of his body missing, sj faces his fate in utter defiance. and then lbh shows up with xuan su.

the reveal of qi-ge's failed rescue and demise was devastating for a lot of reasons. most obviously, sj's sacrifice to keep cang qiong safe from the fallout was a failure. everything he'd done and sacrificed to keep qi-ge safe, all the scorn he'd borne as the hated qing jing peak lord was thrown away because qi-ge wanted to be a moron.

the other reason why sj broke was because qi-ge did come for him. he simply failed. and the tiny part of him that always suspected qi-ge was still qi-ge now has confirmation that all those years ago, qi-ge likely did the same. he came for him at the qius, but he failed. the only difference now is lbh's willingness to tell him the truth vs. yqy's decades-long silence. the only difference now is that yqy is actually, physically dead.

sj has been living on borrowed time ever since he looked the new yqy (fake qi-ge) in the eyes and allowed himself to be brought to cang qiong mountain. everything he did was to elevate himself into a position where no one could hurt him (and qi-ge) anymore, the same way he'd acted back when they were on the streets. now that he was in this state and qi-ge was dead, his time was clearly up. and sj refuses to let lbh have the last laugh. as much as he respected lbh for his ruthlessness, it's not enough to stave off sj's spite. he didn't let qjl control him in the end, and he won't let lbh do so either.

final thoughts

some last, disorganized thoughts on qijiu's relationship

rather than yqy telling sj what happened, i think showing him the scars all over his body would be much more impactful. sj knows how worthless words can be; he's likely prefer being able to touch each scar and check the meridians for himself. yqy doesn't need to say a word, his entire body is a testament to the torture he'd endured.

ironically, sj fixing up cang qiong as a tactician and his personal refusal to put himself in weak situations made yqy incapable of showing his care through action. all of his crises were political/reputation-based/etc. all things qing ding's teachings guaranteed yqy to fail all his speech-checks. and yqy is definitely not the type of person to engineer a false crisis just to swoop in to save sj... not because of any moral reasons, but because risking sj in any way would be absolutely unacceptable. in yqy's world, it's sj > the sect > good morals. he does have good morals, yes, but he's also pragmatic and self-aware enough to know when to put the things he cares about first.

there was a theory i read before about yqy and sj's trauma responses being to shut down and say nothing in the face of accusations, and i agree with this. saying nothing often netted less punishment than 'making excuses.' even without this coping mechanism, the mental trauma of having his mind and body broken could've easily stopped yqy from being able to even speak around the topic for years. if he doesn't talk about it and no one sees his scars, he can pretend it never happened. sj's scorn of him is forever a sign that it did happen, but that's fine, he's always made exceptions for shen jiu.

i don't really know where the uncomfortably-creepy-no-boundaries yqy towards sy came from? in the original novel sy clearly like yqy and views him in a positive, big-brother-shape light. even towards the end of the novel when yqy confesses, sy feels more guilty for being an imposter than angry that yqy failed sj. yqy even steps aside for lbh thinking 'well, at least sqq is happy now' because that's what he wanted for sj for so, so long. for him to be happy, even if that meant forgetting qi-ge.

(the no-boundaries thing is something i disagree with in general, because i think yqy's political and social training would make that very unlikely. he doesn't call sqq xiao-jiu as often as he does in fics, i think he did so in canon because he was delirious and exhausted post-drawing-xuan-su. i figured qijiu's latter years cooled off a bit as yqy realized direct overtures weren't working and went the coaxing-stray-cat route to everyone else's befuddlement.)

does qi-ge know sy is not sj? i can go either way with this. the theory that he does know but he's repressing it out of his own mental wellbeing is intriguing; but so is him assuming sj losing his memories means sy is a different person. which means he's always been happier without qi-ge. either way, i do believe yqy no longer views sqq-y the same as sqq-j. after the first few years post-qi-deviation, i think yqy is emotionally mature enough to realize sy is here to stay and that the sj he once knew (either because of his lost memories or whole-soul transplantation) is gone.

i am a qijiu shipper, but i do also like platonic qijiu. my only prerequisite for any other-ship-jiu fic is some kind of qijiu reconciliation. i honestly don't think either of them would have good romantic relationships unless they fix their own relationship first. qi-ge can't marry someone, that would remove sj from being the most important person on qi-ge's list. despite scorning him, sj being number one is one of the only things holding sj together throughout their divorce era. sj cannot marry anyone because that would give qi-ge the false impression that sj is happy and qi-ge is now free. and qi-ge is not allowed to be free. he will belong to sj for as long as sj wants and nothing is allowed to interfere with that impression. lol both of these are sj-based, but sj's always been the dominant party in this relationship. whether or not qi-ge is jealous of sj's new lover is irrelevant; as long as sj is happy, the og!sj-simp qi-ge is also happy.

i have too many qijiu thoughts and not enough time to write a fic about them, alas. i find their relationship fascinating and very integral to their personalities no matter the au or ship.

[sophieinwonderland]

Now, why would you dare me to embarrass you and your pals like that?

I appreciate how you wanted my attention so bad you posted me to not one, but two subreddits.

Makes a girl feel special! 🤣

I have actually never seen Wikipedia cited as a source about endogenic plurality. Though I do see anti-endos all the time, when asked for sources, telling people to just Google things.

Anyway, here's @guardianssystem's document filled with academic papers about endogenic plurality:

I've compiled my own, but honestly, theirs is better organized than mine.

And in the interest of fairness, here are all the anti-endo papers debunking endogenic plurality:

Sorry, I forgot. Those don't exist. Oops. 🤷‍♀️

Echo chamber? LOL!

Weren't you the one spouting a bunch of lies on Tumblr, got totally debunked, posted the people who debunked you to r/systemscringe to have a hugbox where fakeclaimers could assure you how the people who contradicted you are all fakers, and then blocked everyone who disagreed with you?

Weren't you also the one who, when shown a quote from an expert in dissociative disorders who worked on the DSM-5 saying that a disorder isn't a disorder if it doesn't cause distress, argued that the people who defined what disorder are must be wrong about that definition?

You're a misinformation machine who can only find support when huddled in cringe subreddits. Don't try to talk about people in echo chambers.

Also, you know most of psychology is just... listening to people? That's how it's been as long as the field existed. DID (or MPD at the time) was a recognized disorder since long before the first brain scans were conducted on DID patients. It's saying something though when basically every single scientist who has ever researched endogenic plurality has said they believe it's a real thing, or that it could be. While absolutely zero academic papers have expressed that it's fake.

There is also an fMRI study into tulpa systems that's been in the works, but results have yet to be published.

Sure, if that's what you'd like me to call you, Crazy. 😊

Anyway, Crazy, you should know that just because you personally find something scary doesn't mean everyone will or that the thing is bad. Personal preferences are a thing.

In a study of tulpamancers though, most generally reported their lives becoming better after the practice.

78% reported improvements in their mental health, and 91% on overall life.

There are many out there who would jump at the chance to have someone there with them that knows them intimately, and to never have to be alone again.

If it's not for you, then so be it.

But it's certainly not something to be afraid of.

And maybe, for those who are willing to commit to the practice while America struggles with an epidemic of loneliness, it's something worth being open to.

This is actually pretty fair.

But that's now, and I'm looking at course of history and trends of plural acceptance.

300 years ago, any plural would be viewed as demon possessed and end up tortured or killed for their plurality.

70 years ago, all plurality was seen as a mental illness, and it was common to force plurals, as well as anyone else associated with mental illnesses, into asylums.

30 years ago, the first real plural communities were able to connect on the internet and form in small numbers.

8 years ago, the first studies into endogenic plurality started being conducted. 4 years ago, the ICD-11 acknowledged that you could have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder. 2023 marked the first, but certainly not the last, time a system used their system name as an author of an academic paper.

Recently, new plural resources have been designed and put into use. More servers than ever are using Pluralkit. And Simply Plural went from 100k users at the end of 2021 to 210k at the end of 2022.

Progress is happening far more rapidly than you realize. And you had best be ready for it.

BOO! 👻

Oh, hey, I just realized... this is literal pluralphobia!

Liberté!

Egalité!

Fraternité!

And yes, The Future is Plural! 😜

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a hangover (some throwing up), brattiness, cursing, insults bc they are stupid (respectfully)

☆word count: 7.7k

☆a/n: Another week, another chapter! Once again, thank you to my beautiful beta reader @moonleeai for her help on this chapter!

☆series masterpost here

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, April 29th

                You don’t know what’s worse. The pounding in your head as you wake up, or the immediate nausea that hits you when you realize everything is spinning around you. You crack an eye open to see you forgot to shut the blinds in your drunk state last night, and rain splatters on the window. You’re lucky it’s not sunny, otherwise your head probably would have imploded right then and there.

You sit up, wincing as the nausea rocks against you harder, determined to throw you off the cliff until you’re throwing up. You hold on strong though, breathing in slowly, holding it before you release it. You’re still dizzy after that, but it doesn’t feel like you’re seconds away from throwing up. It’s enough for you to slip out of bed, and your feet catch into your discarded clothes from last night. You almost fall, but you catch yourself at the last minute, stepping over the pile before making your way to the window. You crack it open a little, and the smell of rain overtakes you, right as a cool breeze moves on your naked form.

You always sleep naked, but somehow you have a sock on right now. You furrow your brows, trying to remember when you put it on because you sure as hell weren’t wearing it in your heels last night. It’s too much thinking for your poor brain, and let out a shaky breath as nausea finds you again.

You lean your head against the windowsill, and mist from the rain outside cools your forehead, until you’re able to stand straight again. You take off the sock, throwing it somewhere in your room to be picked up later before gathering the courage for the trek to your bathroom. It’s a good few meters, and you have no idea if you’ll make it.

You don’t really have a choice, so you take a deep breath from the rainy world outside to steady you before taking a few steps. You’re halfway through when you realize nausea is going to win, and you run the rest of the way to throw up in the toilet.

There’s not much for you to throw up, and bile burns your throat for a few seconds before you’re able to sit back. The cold tiles feel like heaven, and you lie down, shutting your eyes. You must have fallen asleep, because you wake up a while later, feeling way too confused as to how you got to the bathroom. You shrug it off, sitting up and wincing at the sore spots in your back.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself before you’re able to stand up, and you grab the glass beside the sink to pour yourself some water. You down the whole glass in a few long gulps, feeling dehydration in every inch of your body. You pour yourself another glass, from which you take a single small sip before making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed, eyes watching the wet world outside. It’s not raining anymore, but drops of water are still drying on the window. From the looks of it, it’s probably going to rain again, dark clouds looming low over the horizon.

What you like about drunk you is that there is a couple things she never forgets. Taking off your makeup and doing your skincare being one. Always plugging in your phone, another. So your phone is fully charged as you grab it, and you read through your notifications as you sip the water.

You’ve gotten a lot of texts you entirely ignored last night, as you usually do when you’re drunk. One of them makes you pause for almost a full minute, and you’re still not sure it’s real when your phone’s screen goes black from you not having touched it in a whole minute.

[02:37 am] unknown number: please don’t fkg flirt with my friends lol

You don’t have to rake your brain to figure out who might have sent that text. The fact that he took the time to type it out and send it to you is surprising, even unbelievable. You didn’t even know he had your phone number saved.

You don’t know what to reply. So you say nothing for now, mind reminiscing of the events of last night. Of Jeon Jungkook reappearing as if he was never gone, to be a prick in your side once again. A thorn stuck under your skin. Not really hurting, but gosh if it isn’t annoying.

You scoff. You know he’s talking about his friend Jimin. You weren’t drunk enough yet to forget that, and last you checked Jimin was the one flirting with you. Jeon Jungkook is out of his mind if he thinks you’re the one to blame.

You decide to fully ignore the text, moving to your conversation with Jiho instead.

[10:36 am] Jiho❣️: brunch??? 🥲

She sent it about twenty minutes ago. You’re in no state to hit the city and go brunching right now, and you lie back on your bed.

[10:57 am] You: can we go in one hour? I’m barely alive

[10:57 am] Jiho❣️: lmao mood

[10:58 am] Jiho❣️: yes ma’am. I’ll text the rest

You send her a thumbs up that she laughs-reacts to, which makes you chuckle. It’s the first truly human thing you’ve done since you woke up and it helps to make you feel less dead inside. Enough so that you sit up and drag yourself to the shower. You let the cold water wash away the remnants of your hungover, though you’re pretty sure it’s the Advil you took before that truly does the deed. You’re getting dressed when there’s a gentle knock on your door, and your mother doesn’t wait for you to tell her she can come in before she does.

"You were out late last night," she comments as she walks in.

She heads straight to the window, and she shuts it as you just stand there, wet hair from your shower soaking through your shirt.

“Was I?” you sarcastically say.

Either she misses the sarcasm, or she really doesn’t care. “Had fun?”

It’s suspicious. She doesn’t usually want to know if you’re out having fun. Which means she probably has something she wants to ask of you, and you steel yourself for the question.

“Yeah,” you flatly say.

“There’s going to be a dinner at your aunt’s house,” she reveals. “I said you were coming.”

You roll your eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “When?”

“Next Saturday.”

“I’ve got practice on Saturday evening.”

She doesn’t care, because she merely shrugs her shoulders. “If you can go out at night instead of practicing, I’m pretty sure you can afford an evening with your family.”

In truth, you don’t mind dinners with the family. You’d prefer them if your mom wasn’t there to remind everyone of all the mistakes you’ve dared to make in your life though.

“I’ll see,” you say, only so she lets it go for today. You actually have no intention to do so, but it works well enough so that she leaves your room, not closing the door behind her.

It makes you clench your jaw as you move to do it yourself, and then you finish getting dressed, grumbling about annoying mothers as you pull your jeans on. You were considering a pair of pale dress pants a moment ago, but with the wet world outside you’d only risk staining the fabric. So jeans it is, and five minutes later you’ve dried your hair enough to pull it back into a neat bun. You only then grab your phone, and Jiho’s already texted you.

[11:27 am] Jiho❣️: do u remember bridget from last night? heather asked if she can come?? [11:34 am] You: ??????????🤯 [11: 36 am] Jiho❣️: ?????????? what’s going on [11:36 am] You: they hooked up???? [11:37 am] You: i didn’t know heather’s into girls [11:39 am] Jiho❣️: dead that that’s the first thing u think about💀 [11:40 am] You: looool am i wrong tho [11:41 am] Jiho❣️: just come down plz, I’m terrified of ur mom🥲

You laugh out loud, before quickly grabbing a pair of socks to put on for the boots you’re planning to wear. You head downstairs and sure enough you find Jiho in the living room, talking to your mother with a mortified look on her face. She sees you before your mother does, and you stifle a laugh at her widened gaze. She glares at you, before blinking a few times as your mother asks her a question.

You intervene then, walking in the living room to rescue your best friend. Your mother wishes you a good brunch, in that cold detached tone she uses whenever she just wants to be rid of you, and you quickly make your way outside, Jiho in tow.

“I know I shouldn’t say that of your mom,” Jiho says as you step outside, “but she is so weird. She’s like a robot or something.”

You laugh. “I know, I’m the one that’s forced to live with her.”

You walk in silence for a few seconds, huddled close together under the umbrella Jiho pulls over you as soon as a drop of rain falls from the sky. “Anyway, Heather?”

You shriek. “What did she say?”

Jiho pulls her phone out of her tote bag, handing it to you. You unlock it, before going into the messages.

“I can’t believe the first person Heather brings home is a girl.”

Your eyes skim over the conversation. It’s a lot shorter than you thought it would be, and you shriek all through it.

[11:01 am] Jiho: u up for brunch? [11:04 am] Heather💃🏼: oooooooh [11:04 am] Heather💃🏼: brunch!!!!!!! [11:05 am] Heather💃🏼: always [11:05 am] Heather💃🏼: can I uuuuuuuh bring Bridget🫢 [11: 13 am] Jiho: ???? [11:14 am] Jiho: bridget? [11:16 am] Heather💃🏼: i might have brought her home last night [11:17 am] Jiho: HEATHER WTF [11:17 am] Jiho: yes plz bring her [11:18 am] Heather💃🏼: 🥰🥰🥰

“This is the best plot twist of the year. I don’t care about nationals anymore, I have reached heaven,” you say, handing her phone back to Jiho. “I didn’t even see them talk all that much last night.”

Jiho chuckles, and a gush of wind sends water splashing right into your face. You dry it with the back of your hand, mindlessly.

“That’s because the other girl…”

“Jo?” you provide.

“Jo made you drink shots back to back for like an hour.”

You wince. “No wonder I feel like shit right now.”

“At least you don’t look it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing her gently. “Please, I’ve seen my face in the mirror this morning.”

 “I stand by what I said.”

You laugh together, and the conversation moves to other subjects involving last night, revolving around Hobi, though by the slight blush on Jiho’s cheeks you know she’s trying not to talk about it too much. After all, it’s probably one of the first times she’s actually hung out with Hobi outside of practice.

You let her gush, teasing her whenever she mentions stuff you actually remember from last night, and soon enough you reach your usual brunch spot. Heather and Bridget are already there, and your eyes widen at the sight of Heather’s sweater on Bridget’s frame. You and Jiho exchange a knowing look, before making your way to where the two girls are standing.

“Morning,” you greet them.

Bridget flashes you a bright smile. “Hey! Not too hungover?”

You chuckle. “Your friend was determined to kill me last night, wasn’t she?”

“That’s Jo for you.”

It makes you laugh, and a hostess appears to guide you to your table. Jiho asks for six seats, and you only understand why when Chaeyeon and Lance appear about twenty minutes later. Lance is still wearing his clothes from last night, and blush dusts Chaeyeon’s cheeks. Not the kind of blush caused by the cold, no. It’s the walk of shame kind of blush, though the smile on her lips tells you she probably has no regrets at all.

They sit with you, and you’re halfway through your meal by the time Lance addresses you directly. “You talked to JK last night?”

The table falls in a hushed silence, and all eyes turn to you. You scrunch up your nose, shrugging your shoulders. “Tried to get him to explain why he left but he’s stubborn.”

“He’s always been,” Heather points out. She exchanges a look with Bridget. “He… probably left because he was tired of…” She seems to be looking for an excuse, and it comes upon you that she appears to know something you don’t.

You’ve never been one to push people to speak, so you just watch as she struggles to find words. She never finds any, and Bridget is the one to talk.

“He just wanted to focus on college.”

It’s almost harsh, the way she says it. As if she wants all of you to drop it. It piques your curiosity even more, damn you, and it takes everything in you not to ask why Jungkook out of all people would want to focus on college.

Isn’t he studying visual arts anyway? It’s not like it implies a lot of studying.

Jiho doesn’t have your chill, because she says, “That sounds awfully like a big excuse, huh?”

You stifle a laugh, and Chaeyeon intervenes with a completely oblivious, “Who’s JK?”

Heather lets out a small anxious chuckle. “He’s someone that used to be on our dance crew.”

“He dipped last year without telling anyone why,” Lance adds, leaning closer to Chaeyeon.

They exchange a look that leads to both of them blushing, and you purse your lips as you look at Jiho. She’s got the same look on her face, and you would have burst out laughing if Bridget didn’t talk.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s not the kind of person to do something without a reason.”

You scoff. “Doesn’t mean the reason is good.”

“What’s with you and JK being at each other’s throat anyway?” Bridget asks.

You like her. You don’t know why but you like her. Even if it seems as if you’re fighting with her right now (albeit subtly), you respect her for defending her friend. Because clearly Jungkook is her friend, and she’s the type to protect the people close to her. It’s cute, and instead of angering you, her question makes you ponder for a time.

“We’ve just never really liked each other,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oof,” Heather puts in. “They always fought before JK left. It was kind of annoying.” She shoots you a look. “Sorry.”

 You shrug again. “Nah, you’re good. It really was annoying. That’s why I think we’re better off without him.”

Lance only then returns to the conversation, after having spoken to Chaeyeon, ignoring all of you for the last few minutes. “Honestly we might be. If you pull up with a good choreography I think we might be just fine. Just need to convince Hobi to stop trying to get us to be seven.”

“I’ll work on that,” Jiho says beside you.

It’s her turn to receive everyone’s attention. “What, ‘cause you think Hobi would listen to you?” Heather asks. It’s genuine, the way she asks, with a slight pout to her lips.

Jiho flushes red, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re a team, I can help.”

“Right,” you say, offering her salvation. “We’ll figure it out.”

Heather sighs, sitting back in her chair. “I kind of missed when JK was on the team though.”

 “That’s because you were crushing on him for the longest time,” Lance teases.

Clearly, he’s completely unaware that something happened between Bridget and Heather. You glare at him, trying to knock some sense into his head, but it’s already too late.

Bridget doesn’t look like she cares. She only laughs, playing with a piece of pancake on her plate. “Who can blame her, have you seen the man?”

You have. And he’s far too full of himself to be even remotely attractive to you. You refrain from saying so, preferring to let the conversation move on from Jungkook’s subject. Instead, you eat your breakfast, listening to everyone talk as you sip on your orange juice.

Your phone is face down on the table when it vibrates, and Jiho puts hers down a second later. You grab yours, subtly looking down at the screen.

[12:49 pm] Jiho❣️: u look upset☹️

You make sure no one is looking before you reply.

[12:50 pm] You: jk texted me last night

The sound Jiho lets out next to you is somewhere between a snort and a cough, and she recovers well by faking a real cough this time. It seems to go unnoticed to everyone but you, and she looks at you with round eyes before replying.

[12:52 pm] Jiho❣️: y didn’t u mention before😤 [12:53 pm] You: bc it’s nothing. he’s stupid [12:53 pm] Jiho❣️: 😤😤😤

You laugh as silently as possible, before screenshotting Jungkook’s text. You send it to Jiho, before adding,

[12:54 pm] You: hope this is a good enough apology [12:54 pm] Jiho❣️: he said WHAT [12:54 pm] Jiho❣️: also, the unknown number i’m dead💀

You put your phone back face down on the table, indicating that the conversation is done for now. Jiho is glaring at your profile, but you ignore it. Just like you ignored Jungkook’s text, really. It works well enough, and Jiho lets it go to focus back on the conversation around the table. It gives you the opportunity to think about what to reply to Jungkook, though you still have no idea.

It’s only later in the evening that you find yourself with something to reply to him. You know it’s going to piss him off, and you send the text with a mischievous grin on your lips.

[10:03 pm] You: who’s this?

Thursday, May 3rd

                For someone that’s been dancing since you were a child, you know nothing about creating a choreography from scratch. Maybe you’d be able to do it for a lone dancer, but a group of six? Your mind has been completely empty.

It’s infuriating, really. And you think Hobi might as well murder you when you tell him you have nothing. And you’ve watched hundreds of hours of other choreographies since Sunday, but still your brain is completely empty.

‘No thoughts, head empty’ has never been so real.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed. It’s late at night, and your laptop’s screen has gone black a while ago as you scrolled through your phone. You’re stalking the Instagram pages of other dance crews, trying to figure out what kind of moves they are going for for nationals. Your goal is to head away from anything that might resemble what other crews are doing.

Which is quite a harder task than it seems when you’ve never even choreographed anything before.

How did Jungkook manage to do this? Back when he was still part of the crew, Hobi asked him for choreographies all the time. He always had something new, something fierce and something never done before. No wonder your dance crew has had so much success so far.

But you are running out of choreographies created by Jungkook, the last one having been used at nationals last year.

You scoff, running a hand through your hair. You only have two days left for a choreography, and you really don’t think you’ll make it. There’s always the option of asking Jungkook for help, but something about it doesn’t sit right with you.

Especially after his only reply to your last text message was:

[10:27 pm] unsaved number: 🙄

He sent that on Monday night, a little over twenty-four hours after you replied to him, and you haven’t said anything in return. You don’t really want to talk to him or to see him again, if you’re honest. Especially not after he said you were a bitch.

No, you usually don’t do insults, and the fact that he did really doesn’t sit right with you.

 But you’re not stupid. You need help for the choreography, and you ARE running out of time. So you bite the bullet and type out a text that you reread at least a hundred times before clicking on send.

You immediately shut your phone and put it face down on your couch next to you, before clicking on your laptop to make the screen come to life again.

*****

                Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, one arm under his head as he looks at a show on the TV. Taehyung and Jo went up a moment ago, and he’s decided to watch another episode before going to bed. Mostly because his leg has been hurting like a bitch today.

It always does after his physical therapy appointment.

He’s dozing off, eyelids heavy as he watches the action unfold on the screen. In all truth, he’s not really paying attention. He received your text before Taehyung and Jo went to bed, and he’s been thinking about it since then.

So far, he hasn’t found anything annoying to reply, so he’s making you wait. Little do you know, Hobi actually asked him the same thing. Not that Hobi doesn’t trust you, but Jungkook has always been the choreographer.

You’re more of a dancer than him though, but he’d never admit that to you. No, he rather prefers making you feel like you’re not good enough, just because riling you up gives him a weird sense of satisfaction.

It’s been that way since he met you, back when you were sixteen. The first thing he had noticed about you then was that you were pretty. The soft kind of pretty, the one that comes with having everything given to you whenever you wanted it. You joined the dance crew almost at the same time as him, so he always felt like there was competition between you. It only became worse when he realized who your mother was, and that you had joined a dance crew at your mother’s studio.

He had thought it was insulting that they had taken you, because clearly you didn’t need a crew to be a dancer. In all truth at first you had been friendly competition. It’s when he had realized how much better you thought yourself to be that he had started teasing you, insulting you subtly whenever he got the chance.

It’s second nature now, and whenever he sees you he just feels the need to rile you up. To make you frown and stomp your feet, with your little fists resting on your hips. You probably think you’re intimidating when you do that, but he’s always just found it cute.

He sighs and shifts on the couch, wincing at the pain that shoots from his knee before returning to its usual background intensity.

Indeed, the pain never goes away. It’s always there, gnawing at his nerves until he loses his temper. He reckons he’s been losing it more and more in the last few months, but that’s only because the winter cold made it hurt far more than it has hurt so far. He’s glad that summer is coming now, and he already feels it in his knee.

It’s a hopeless wish, but he hopes one day his leg won’t hurt anymore.

Another sigh escapes the confines of his chest, and it turns into a startled gasp as someone throws something soft on him from behind the couch.

“What the fuck?” he grumbles as Jimin’s iconic laugh is heard.

His friend moves around the couch before sitting at Jungkook’s feet while the latter pushes the soft thing – a sweater – off his face.

“You’re so lost in thought you didn’t even hear me come in,” Jimin teases as he leans against the couch, turning his head towards Jungkook. “Still thinking about that girl from Saturday?”

Immediately Jungkook grows defensive. “No? Why would I be thinking of her?”

Jimin just raises his eyebrow, a shit-eating smile on his lips.

“Fuck off.”

“You’re still jealous,” Jimin teases, and Jungkook struggles to sit up so he can punch his friend in the shoulder.

“I was not jealous.” He feels hot, and his brows knit together. “Just fucking let it go.”

Jimin shrugs, pouting. “No.”

“You’re an ass.”

Jimin looks away, eyes settling on the TV. He doesn’t say anything except letting out a laugh, and the laugh in and of itself is even more infuriating than whatever he could have said. Jungkook scoffs before laying back down.

“Seriously though,” Jimin says after a few blissful minutes of silence. “What’s your deal with her?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “I have no deal with her. And it’s not because you ask the same question a thousand times that the answer will change.”

“So you won’t be angry at me if I tell you I dmed her on Insta?”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot to Jimin’s profile, and the smirk on his friend’s lips make him want to punch a hole into his head. “You did not?”

“So what if I did?” Jimin asks. “As you said, ‘I have no deal with her’.”

Jimin’s imitation of his previously uttered phrase forces Jungkook to sit up once again. This time he throws his legs on the side of the couch until his feet touch the ground, and he sits back against the backrest, playing with his piercing to keep the annoyance at bay. He chooses to remain silent, because he knows saying something will just make it worse.

“This is gold,” Jimin still says, and he starts laughing again. “I’ve never seen you worked up about a girl before.”

“I am not worked up about her.”

Jimin throws him a no-bullshit look, an eyebrow cocked sassily. “No, of course not, my bad bro.” Another snicker, and Jimin adds, “You’re sulking”.

“Do you want to die?” Jungkook asks, entirely serious. Because he does want to kill Jimin, if only to shut him up. “She’s annoying, I don’t give a shit about her. Besides, I don’t even dance anymore. You should know that.” He speaks fast, and his voice quickly falls into the same simmering anger that takes over him whenever he thinks about the consequences of the accident.

Jimin notices the change in him and immediately backs off, shrugging his shoulders. “I know.”

It ends the conversation, and they watch the rest of the show in a tense silence, until Jungkook finally decides it’s time to go up to bed. Jimin wishes him good night before disappearing into the kitchen, and Jungkook climbs upstairs.

If Jo and Taehyung were not already in bed, he probably would have slammed his door shut behind him for good measure, but he’s not that much of an asshole. Not when his friendship with Taehyung still feels fragile, even after the talk that they had a couple of weeks ago.

Instead, he softly closes the door behind him, before heading straight for his bed. He plops down, wincing at the ever-constant pain in his leg. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it; it doesn’t feel like he will. Especially not when he doesn’t feel it for a few seconds when he wakes up, and he almost forgets he ever got in a car accident in the first place.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rolling on his back. He looks up at his ceiling, and the purple glow of his LED light does almost nothing to calm him down.

He needs Jimin to stop teasing him about you. He also needs Jimin to stay fucking clear of you, because he knows his friend. If he can’t have something, it makes him want it even more. He usually finds it funny, but somehow it strikes a nerve right now.

Maybe because he’s always fucking upset about everything now. Like how you pretended it wasn’t him that texted you the other day. Who else would have texted you anyway?

It reminds him that you actually texted him about an hour and a half ago, and he’s yet to reply. He groans, grabbing his phone from his pocket before opening it. It directly opens to the conversation with you, and he rereads your text.

[9:56 pm] You🙄: i might ignore jimin if u help me with a choreography

Does that mean that Jimin actually did text you? It makes Jungkook’s heart feel heavy in his chest, and he frowns as he rereads your message a couple of times, teeth pulling at his piercing.

He wants to reply something to spite you, just because he can. But now that Jimin said all of that… Jungkook can’t help but think maybe he should just accept. Because he doesn’t like the thought of you with his friend at all, and he knows you well enough to know you would do Jimin without a single ounce of hesitation if it can piss him off.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself replying with,

[11:31 pm] Jungkook: already accepting defeat i see [11:31 pm] Jungkook: yes i can help

You were already typing something by the time he sent the second message, and he watches the three little dots disappear before reappearing again. It takes you almost a full minute to reply, and he wonders how many times you’ve rewritten the text that appears in front of his eyes.

[11:32 pm] You🙄: i need it by Saturday [11:32 pm] Jungkook: bruh

You don’t say anything for a while, and he puts his phone away to go take a shower and brush his teeth. His mind is already coming up with something to help you with, and he’s almost appalled with himself. Why is he so willing to help you?

He’s settled under his comforter when he finally grabs his phone to see if you replied. You have and he smirks as he reads your text.

[11:34 pm] You🙄: plz don’t be a bitch about it, hobi only gave me a week🥲 [10:47 pm] Jungkook: and u still have nothing? outrageous🤨

Satisfied, Jungkook moves to put his phone away, but it vibrates in his hand before he does. You sent him a bunch of looking-up emojis, and he just replies with the one blowing a kiss. You’re quick to reply once more, and he rolls his eyes before laying back in bed with his phone in hand. He’s not annoyed though, just amused. Surprisingly so.

[10:48 pm] You🙄: can u come to the studio tmrw?

Jungkook wets his lips, and he’s about to reply when his brain comes up with an image that makes him freeze. He thinks about you, in bed. For some reason, his mind decides you’re lying on your side, hair loose around your head. You’re looking at your phone, and the light caresses your features ever so softly. It strikes him so bad that he finds himself pressing on the Facetime call button before he even realizes he does.

He’s appalled for a time as he watches his own reflection on his screen for a couple of seconds, the sound of ringing filling his room. He’s convinced this is a bad idea, and he doesn’t think you will pick up.

To his surprise, you do pick up. But all he can see is what looks like a wall.

“Why are you calling me?” you ask, and your voice is dripping with annoyance.

That’s how he likes you to be, isn’t it?

“Figured it’d be easier that way,” he replies, and he wonders if it’s just him or is it suddenly more hot in his room?

You remain silent for a time, and he wonders if you’re looking at him on your screen. It’s hard to know what you might see there. Even though he knows he’s an attractive man, there’s something about your disdain for him that’s always made him feel a little insecure in your presence.

Maybe that’s why he’s always riling you up.

“Mmh,” you hum after a moment. “Can you then?”

He’s all but forgotten what you asked him by text before he called you, and it takes him a moment to formulate an answer. “Probably.” There’s a mischievous smirk on his lips when he adds, “What do I get in exchange?”

He hears you scoff, and his smirk melts into a grin. “I’m not going to let you flirt with me at almost midnight.”

“Then why did you pick up?” He’s being a little shit. It feels refreshing and his smile doesn’t waver from his lips. Especially as you don’t say anything. It makes him chuckle. “Thought so.”

“You are as annoying as I remember you to be, Jeon Jungkook.”

The way you say his name, with a low voice that sounds a little like danger, makes him gulp, and the smile dies on his lips.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” he says, and just like that he feels like he’s regained control. He can almost hear you roll your eyes, which brings him to say, “Why don’t you show your face?”

“Why? Do you want to see me?” you ask, and it’s almost a purr.

His heart picks up its pace in his chest, and Jungkook is glad for the purple light in his room. He’s pretty sure it hides the blush on his cheeks. “Just weird to be staring at a wall when you get to see my handsome face, no?”

“Who told you you’ve got a handsome face?” you tease, but you still finally show on the screen.

You’re not wearing any makeup, and your hair is a mess. Jungkook almost wants to point it out, but he doesn’t want to make you go away, so he just shrugs.

“My mom?”

“I don’t think that counts,” you say, and this time he sees you roll your eyes.

He moves until he’s lying on his back, holding his phone over his face. He wets his lips, before saying, “Anyway, yes I can.” He pauses, looking away from his phone before resuming his attention on you. “Only if you bring something to eat.”

You look up as if annoyed. “Alright, whatever it takes.”

He immediately jumps on the occasion. “Whatever it takes? Let me reconsider what I want.”

To his surprise, you laugh, and he’s struck dumb for a good ten seconds.

“So?”

He gulps. “So what?”

“So what do you want?”

He doesn’t know. He’s really struck dumb, but then his brain goes down the dark road again. He wants his leg to stop aching. He wants it to be so he’s never left the dance crew, so he’s never had to give up on his dreams. It sobers him up real quick.

“Uh, just food is fine.”

If you’re concerned by his switch in behaviour, you do not show. You only watch him for a few seconds before saying, “I have no idea what you like.”

“Just anything”, he says. His eyes trail away from his phone, and he doesn’t let you say something else before adding, “Listen, I gotta go, but text me what time you want me to be there?”

At that you seem surprised, as if you didn’t expect him to want to hang up so quickly. Your brows are knitted together when he looks back at you. You look as if you want to ask a question, and he really feels like he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s glad when you just scoff, and say, “Alright?”

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. He feels like an asshole, but you’re suddenly the last person he wants to be talking to. “Good night.”

At least he’s not an asshole enough to hang up without saying goodbye.

Friday, May 4th

                You won’t lie, you’re a little anxious at the thought of being with Jungkook alone. It’s not something that ever happened before, and in all truth you don’t know why you suggested it. Why didn’t you ask him to come tomorrow instead, when everyone would be there to work on the choreography?

You feel stupid, but then again you don’t want the crew to know you had to ask Jungkook for help. You can only hope he doesn’t say anything to the rest, but it seems unlikely. Last you checked he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore except Hobi.

You’re in a small studio, away from the main class ones. It’s a studio you usually use when you want to dance alone in peace, and it’s almost forgotten by everyone that comes to your mother’s dance studio. It’s cozy to you, maybe because it’s always been a refuge to you, a safe haven whenever Jiho’s house couldn’t be one for you.

Right now, it smells like fried chicken, because that’s what you were craving before you came to the studio. You arrived an hour ago, even though you only told Jungkook to be here around 5 pm.

You needed to mentally prepare yourself after all. You’re not sure it really worked, and when Jungkook texts you to say he’s outside, you feel like this is all a bad idea. You still text him the number of the room you’re in, and as you wait for him, you look at yourself in the mirror to ensure you look okay.

You don’t even know if you do. Don’t know why you curled your hair and put on a little bit of makeup either. Maybe because Jungkook has a tendency to point out every little flaw on you.

He arrives about a whole five minutes later. He’s holding two bubble teas, and your eyes widen as he smiles at you.

“Hey,” you greet him, and you take a few steps towards him before stopping in your tracks. You motion towards the chicken. “I got Korean fried chicken.”

“Thought it smelled like it,” he says. He finishes crossing the distance between you two, handing you one of the bubble teas. “Do you like this?”

“What flavour is it?” you ask, taking it from his hand.

A strange sensation goes through you as your index touches one of his fingers. You frown at the feeling, before taking a sip from the bubble tea as he says, “Banana milk”.

You hum in content, and your eyes are almost bulging out of your head when you realize he’s gotten it with jelly instead of tapioca. “How did you know that’s my favourite?”

 He makes a weird face, with his nose scrunched up a little. “I didn’t, I just took two of my usual.”

You don’t like that you have something in common with Jungkook, so you say, “Did you have to make banana milk bubble tea disgusting?”

He looks infinitely confused for a few seconds. “Uh?”

“Never mind.”

There’s an awkward silence, and your eyes slide to the fried chicken. “Do you want to eat first?”

He takes a sip of his own bubble tea, making the silence stretch until you feel like disappearing through the floor. He probably does it on purpose, just to unsettle you. It’s so long you look back at him, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.       

“Sure,” he finally says, and he offers you the shit-eating grin he usually uses to piss you off.

Your brows are a little furrowed as you look at him for a few seconds, annoyed, before you finally move to where you left the food on the ground. You sit cross-legged, ignoring Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you as you put the bubble tea down next to you and open the box of fried chicken. Jungkook hasn’t moved, and you roll your eyes as you glance at him.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask. You sound just as annoyed as you feel, and it only doubles up when he looks at the floor with an eyebrow cocked.

“You expect me to eat on the floor?”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Last I checked, there’s no table in the room.”

“We can go to the cafeteria.”

Your shake your head, lips stretched in an upside-down smile. “Just.” You motion at a vague spot next to you. “Just fucking sit and eat.”

“Why don’t you want to go to the cafeteria?” he asks, and he takes a long sip of bubble tea as you just glare at him. “Are you ashamed that you asked for my help?”

There it is. The teasing glint in his eyes. It’s the same as last week, and the same you have been used to for what now, eight years? It makes his eyes sparkle, a little innocently, though you know the reason behind is not innocent at all. No, if Jungkook has a little angel and a little demon on his shoulders, he’s been listening to the little demon since you’ve known him.

“You’re making me regret asking you for help,” you complain, biting down on your tongue to keep the ‘asshole’ that wanted to follow your sentence.

He’s smiling now, bright and happy. “Then I’ll just go.”

He makes no move towards the door though, and you just raise your eyebrows. “Alright. Go.”

He surveys you for a time, as if gauging if he can actually go. He pouts a little, and you frown, looking away from him. You grab the sauces you got with the chicken, opening the lids of each of them to busy yourself. You don’t want to look like you want him to stay.

You reckon you don’t actually want him to stay. You wish you could get help from anyone else but dreadful times call for drastic measures, uh?

“Damn,” he says, and he chuckles, before finally walking towards you. He sits on the other side of the box, but he makes no move towards the chicken for now. “You’re really that desperate?”

Your eyes shoot to him, and you hope he feels the blade of the daggers they hold. “Can we just be professional for once?”

“I’ll be professional if you promise not to ask me why I left the crew,” he says, falling so serious you almost get whiplash.

You have considered it, you won’t lie. But it’s not like it matters anyway, especially not now that the crew has finally accepted to be six instead of seven.

“I don’t give a shit as to why you left the crew,” you let out flatly, before taking a bite of chicken.

It’s savoury, with just enough crunch to make your little monkey brain go haywire. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you are currently alone in a room with the person you dislike the most out there.

Jungkook seems surprised by your comment, and you think there’s a flash of disappointment on his features, but it disappears too quickly for you to analyse. Instead, he frowns, before scoffing as he shakes his head. “Is that why you were such a bitch about it last week?”

“Did you come here to call me a bitch or to create a choreography?”

Your outburst is loud and unexpected, both to you and him. His eyes just widen, and he raises his hands as if to show he’s not dangerous. “Woah, calm down.”

It’s probably the worst thing to tell you whenever you’re angry, but even as you see red you bite down on some chicken again. Keeping your mouth occupied is the only thing you can do right now to keep yourself from blowing up in his face. Considering you really do need his help, that is.

“You are not a bitch,” Jungkook says. He scoffs again, and his eyes drop to the chicken in your hands. “You acted like one, there’s a nuance.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Am I the law student here or is that you?”

“Is that a compliment?”

He’s annoying. A prick, a pain in the ass, an asshole and everything in between. Especially as he just starts smirking, as if he knows he’s struck the right chord.

“Somebody fucking kill me right now,” you grumble as you look up to the ceiling.

There’s nothing up there to save you from Jeon Jungkook, so you let your gaze drop back to his face. He’s looking at you, features set in a calm mask, and it takes you by surprise. He looks different like this, more mature. More like the adult that he is now, and less like the sixteen year-old you met back then.

He sighs, before grabbing a piece of fried chicken with his free hand. He dips it in sauce, before taking a bite. He chews for a few seconds, and then swallows it down with a sip of banana bubble tea. You’re not sure the flavours go well together, but he doesn’t seem to care as he just dives in for another bite.

You echo his sigh with one of your own, and then you start to eat too. The meal is surprisingly spent in silence. You think it’s supposed to be uncomfortable, but for some reason sitting across from Jeon Jungkook while eating fried chicken is anything but uncomfortable. Strange, that’s for sure, but you don’t feel awkward.

Maybe it’s because he’s rarely this silent, and your soul is singing to the gods above in thanks for the peace.

And then you realize you might have more than gods to thank. Because Jungkook really is professional. He came with ideas for songs you could use, and for most of them he’s already thought up parts of choreographies. You don’t know how his brain does it, and you’re a little amazed for a time. You don’t let it show, because God forbid Jeon Jungkook and his oversized ego know that you think something positive about him, but you really are impressed with him.

And a lot more thankful than you’d ever dare to say.

One thing you notice though, as Jungkook shows you some moves, is that he doesn’t dance like he used to. There’s something a little mechanical with the way his body moves, as if he’s a machine that’s missing a little bit of oil.

Maybe even a lot.

He’s halfway through his idea for the third song he suggested when you notice him half-assing a leg move that you’ve seen him doing to perfection a hundred times before. He stops as his eyes fall shut, and darkness takes over his features. You’re a little taken aback, as you stand next to him, and you look at him in the mirror.

It takes him almost a good thirty seconds before he opens his eyes again. “Sorry.”

If he hadn’t been so professional in the last hour, you probably would have given him shit, just because that’s how you and Jeon Jungkook work. But right now, all you can think to say is, “Is something wrong?”

He meets your gaze in the mirror. His is heavy, sad, and it makes him look exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept in a few months, and you realize maybe he hasn’t.

Maybe he really has a good reason as to why he disappeared from the dance crew in February last year.

“I’m out of practice,” he says flatly. It’s a lie and he’s not a good liar. As soon as the words are out he looks down, pulling at his piercing.

“We can go with the first choreography,” you say tentatively after a moment of silence. “I think it’s the one that’ll work the best considering everyone’s strength.” He slowly nods, but he remains silent.

And you’re right. The one he’s showing you right now would have been good to make him shine on stage, but he’s not going to be there.

“Okay,” he lets out after he sighed loudly. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

You purse your lips, eyes still boring into his forehead. His hair is falling in front of his eyes, and he seems as if he’s fighting demons standing there. You turn towards him, tilting your head to try and catch his gaze. It fails miserably, but you still say, “Are you okay?”

It breaks him out of his trance. He scoffs, glancing at you once before holding his head up high and running his hands through his hair. “Don’t act like you care.”

It takes you aback, and you just stare at him without even blinking for a little while. He’s right, you don’t care, so why are you asking?

It’s your turn to scoff, and you furrow your eyebrows as you turn away from him to face the mirror again. “Okay,” you mutter. “Sorry for trying to treat you like a decent human being. I forgot you’re an asshole for a moment there.”

You realize the insult is out a long time after you’ve finished your sentence. Actually, you only realize because Jungkook finally looks at you again, but only to glare. His brows are knit together on his forehead, and you notice his clenched fists at his side.

“You know what, I think I’m done for tonight,” he says. He chuckles bitterly. “Let’s see what the crew does when you come up to them with half a choreography because you can’t even create one.”

You would have apologized if he hadn’t said that second part. Now, all you want to do is punch a hole in his face. “Are you fucking serious? Do you need me to beg on my knees for your help?”

He smiles, but there’s no warmth. Just contempt, and it’s a disgusting look on Jeon Jungkook’s features. “Yeah, get on your knees.” He adds your name, saying it like it’s an insult, before continuing, “Let’s see what you fucking look like when you beg on your knees.”

It makes you want to throw up, and you just turn your back to him as you walk to where you left the empty containers of fried chicken and sauce. You gather them up with shaky hands, before straightening. You reckon your whole body is shaking, as it usually does when you’re really angry. The kind of angry that makes you want to murder people, and surprisingly enough, it’s the kind of angry only Jungkook and your mom have ever succeeded at getting out of you.

It’s an ugly feeling you don’t like, and for that reason you storm out of the room, not even caring to see if Jungkook is following. No, all you can think of is that you need a breather, some fresh air to cool down the boiling of your blood. Otherwise you might just kill Jungkook, and you don’t think you have the energy to hide a body at the moment.

You make it all the way to the evening world outside before Jungkook actually calls your name behind you.

You swirl around, and one of the containers fall to the ground. For some reason it makes you even angrier, and you just throw the rest of them next to it. It makes you feel incredibly stupid, and you’re bending down to pick them back up when Jungkook says, “I’m sorry I said that”.

You finish picking the trash up, before straightening. “I don’t give a shit about your little fucking apology. I’d rather shoot myself than spend another fucking second in your presence. Just leave, and please never come back.”

He doesn’t move, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I can finish the choreography and give it to Hobi.”

“Just do that, I don’t care,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

He slowly nods but he still doesn’t move. It occurs to you that he does look apologetic, as if he wants to go back in time and erase what just happened.

“Why are you still looking at me?” you ask, but some of the fight in you is starting to dissolve, leaving you feeling exhausted.

“I just…” he trails off, and he scratches at the nape of his neck before letting his hand fall at his side again. “I’m just really sorry, that was disgusting of me.”

“I already said I don’t care, Jeon”, you say through gritted teeth. “You just reminded me why I hate you so much, so thanks for the wake-up call. Just give Hobi the choreography and leave me the fuck alone.”

“But…”

“There’s no but,” you interject before he can say more, and your voice is shrill, high-pitched. You probably sound crazy, and you sigh deeply as you remember that you’re out in the street and that anyone can hear you. As a matter of fact, you’re pretty sure the guy walking on the other side of the street just turned to look at you curiously, attracted to drama the way moths are attracted to a flame.

Jungkook falls silent. For good this time. He just nods, and he digs his hands in his pockets. He holds your fiery gaze for a few seconds longer, and then his gaze just drops to the ground as he starts walking away.

 If you cared about him more, now would probably be the time that you say his name and apologize. But you’ve never cared about him, so you watch him go, satisfied to know you’ve won this argument.

It’s childish and petty, but Jeon Jungkook really does bring out the worst in you.

Once his form is out of view, you move back into the building to throw away the containers. It takes you all but thirty seconds before you’re out again, and you grab your phone to ask Jiho to come over.

[8:41 pm] You: i’m about to commit murder or arson or both😤 [8:41 pm] You: can u come over to diss Jungkook with me🫠

Jiho’s answer only comes later that night, when you’re positively cooled down, lying in bed as you watch your favourite anime.

[11:23 pm] Jiho❣️: sry, didn’t see this before, i was at my uncle’s

You pause your episode, before moving to your messaging app.

[11:23 pm] You: it’s fine, i feel better now😶 [11:23 pm] You: he was a fkg asshole tonight [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: WAIT [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: wtf did i miss [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: what were u doing with jk🤨 [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: why didn’t u tell me u were gonna see him [11:26 pm] You: uuuuuuuuuuuuh😅

You press send, and you laugh as Jiho almost immediately calls you.

“What the fuck” is the first thing that she tells you as you put your phone against your ear, quickly followed by, “Are you having a fever? Why were you with JK?”

You wince, and you shrug your shoulders even though she can’t see you. “I asked him to help with the choreography for Hobi.”

 “You bitch!” Jiho bursts out. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you just tell Hobi you were struggling?”

You laugh, and it really helps to forget your anger towards Jungkook. “I’ve got some pride, you know? I really wanted to be able to bring something to dance practice tomorrow.”

And then you go on to tell her everything that happened, and to your surprise, she laughs at Jungkook’s comment.

“What’s funny?” you grumble.

“Girl,” she says in between two fits of laughter. “You opened that door so wide. He’s Jeon Jungkook, of course he was going to jump on it and say something like that.”

You reckon she’s right. Jungkook really is the kind of cocky guy that thinks he can just say anything without any consequences.

“Right,” you mumble. Your phone vibrates against your ear, and you put Jiho on speaker mode to see who texted you. You choke on your saliva as Jungkook’s unsaved number is now at the top of your texting app. “Jesus fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jiho asks.

“He texted me.”

She’s laughing again, and maybe Jungkook is not the one you’ll need to murder after all. “What did he say?” she eventually asks once she’s calmed down.

[11:34 pm] unsaved number: just letting u know that hobi asked me to be there at dance practice tmrw

You repeat the text out loud for Jiho, who hums pensively. “Damn, is JK really going to be our choreographer now?”

You’re not surprised she’s jumped to that conclusion. You have too, and you saw it coming the moment you told him to talk to Hobi.

“I am never coming back to dance practice if that is the case.”

“Oh come on,” Jiho lets out. “Nobody cares about Jungkook. We can’t lose you too.”

She’s not wrong. Losing another member would completely annihilate the crew, and you’ve been part of it for way too long to ever consider leaving. It’s part of you now, and it’s been so for so long you think you’d probably die if you left.

Or at least turn into a very bitter version of yourself.

You’re about to go to sleep, a while after you’ve hung up with Jiho, when you finally decide to reply to Jungkook. Only because you don’t want him to be too much of a little shit tomorrow.

[12:58 am] You: ayt lol, sry about earlier

You don’t know why you apologize. You just do it because it feels like the right thing to do. The “be the bigger person” kind of thing to do, and now that you’ve talked to Jiho, you feel like you can actually be that person. That, or maybe it’s the fact it’s been long enough since you saw Jungkook that you don’t quite feel like murdering him anymore.

[1:05 am] unsaved number: no worries:) i was a dick

Your phone lights up on your night stand but you feel too tired to check it out. As if being the bigger person takes too much energy. Maybe it does, and you’re asleep before you receive the next text.

[1:09 am] unsaved number: i hope u like the rest of the choreography😌

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Ooooof when will they stop fighting uh? Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist (strikethrough means tumblr isn't letting me tag you my bad):

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @sugaluvmyg | @tearyjjeon | @jkclouds | @libra04 | @parkinglot-nights | @ggukieasy | @omnomnomtron | @jichimx | @synnfulqt | @leedoesntknaur | @oopscoop | @melodiesforari | @pornichet

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (X) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N faces the music and has a talk with Harry. Yule Break rolls around and Regulus makes a breakthrough.

Part IX / Part XI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Little cliffhanger, oops. Also, yes, we are making progress towards learning the truth (more portrait lore, yay).

The watch stands for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match were brimming in excitement, the student body’s energy revitalized by the appointment of Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper. Standing next to Hermione, you can’t help the exhilaration that swims through your veins, glad that there was a buffer in the grim mood that shadowed over the school year. 

The sharp fweet of Madam Hooch’s whistle signals the start of the match, and enthusiastic shouts begin to erupt from all around you. These cheers only grew in volume as Ron’s flawless performance became apparent to all the watchers. 

You hadn’t realized your friend was this good.

As if reading your thoughts, Hermione leans over to you as Ron manages to knock away the quaffle again, “Harry dosed him with Felix Felicis during breakfast.” 

Quirking your head at the revelation, your eyes follow Ginny’s zipping figure around the field, thoroughly impressed by both Weasleys’ playing. 

“Somehow I doubt that. Harry’s sweet, but he’s not wasteful. There are better things to use the concoction on, no?” Hermione doesn’t respond to your words, but you feel her shift at the implications of them, likely agreeing. 

If your friend group were leading ordinary lives, using Felix Felicis on arbitrary things like Quidditch matches would be fine, if not expected, but with Voldemort lurking about, the liquid could probably be put to better use. 

As the game continues on, you’re hardly surprised when Gryffindor begins to lead by a landslide before ultimately coming out victorious. As everyone explodes in celebration, you quickly slink away from the boisterous crowd, not quite in a partying mood. You had heard Dean talking before the match, and he had mentioned that the party would be open to any house–though, you didn’t suspect many Slytherins would attend anyway.

You figured that the celebration would drag on for hours on end which gave you quite some time to wander without peering eyes.

Roaming the grounds of the castle for a while, you feel lonelier than usual, not having Regulus in your pocket. Despite the boy’s history as a quidditch player himself, he opted to remain in your dorm, stating that he needed peace and quiet. You couldn’t fault him, the both of you were feeling unnerved with every passing day as Harry seemed to pointedly avoid the topic of Regulus’ existence. 

A part of you hoped that he perhaps forgot about the whole ordeal or thought it to be trivial, but you knew he was likely just busy with trying to con Slughorn. 

Feeling the chill of the weather bite at your fingers, you decide to make your way back inside the castle. As you quietly pad through the halls, you’re shaken from your thoughts as a deep voice echoes around the walls, “L/N. Surprised to see you here.” 

Spinning around, you see a familiar figure walking towards you with a small smirk. The faint sag in his shoulders was the only indication that he was fatigued from the quidditch match. 

“Zabini. Shouldn’t you be off sulking with the rest of the Slytherin team?” Your words are tinged with amusement and you spin back around, knowing that the boy would eventually catch up to you. 

As you round the corner, Blaise manages to fall into step with you, “Moping has never been a strong suit of mine.” 

“I suppose tantrums would mar that whole quintessential gentility image you have going on. What about comfort? Is that something you’re adept with?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were hoping to achieve from the conversation, but becoming familiar with the Slytherin may prove beneficial in the future. 

Blaise lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, “Are you asking me to console you, L/N?” 

“Forget me, you’re not really my type. It’s your little peacock who seems awfully peaky as of late. He nearly bit my head off in the library the other day.” You roll your eyes, recalling the strange encounter you had with the Malfoy heir. 

The boy was acting awfully suspicious.

Blaise seems to straighten up at your words, eyes flickering quickly around the hall as he understands your insinuation, “Draco can take care of himself.” 

“If you’re sure.” Your words come out just above a whisper, and you’re left to your thoughts as Blaise seems content with just walking in silence. 

Not minding the boy’s presence, you began to think about possible avenues of research you could explore to try and solve the mystery of Regulus’ existence, wanting to find answers for not only yourself, but Regulus as well. Merlin, how the boy wasn’t mad for answers was beyond you. 

A few moments pass before you’re struck with a thought that has you pausing in your tracks. Blaise is quick to follow, turning to look at your contemplative expression, “Should I be worried that you’re plotting my murder, L/N?” 

“Quite the contrary, Zabini. How do you feel about making these meetings a regular thing?” Your smile is only a tad inscrutable, but you can see the interest glinting brightly in the boy’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re not interested in me, L/N? I wouldn’t fault you if you were.” His words have you rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the victorious feeling that bloats in your stomach as you see him let his guard down. 

“Really, you’re not my type. I’m just asking if you want to be…friends, I guess you could say.” You try to plaster on the most companionable smile you can manage. Come on Zabini, accept the olive branch.

Blaise hums in thought before turning around, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to ignore your request. Following him quickly, Blaise tosses you a small smile before replying, “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what your type is since we’re friends now.”  

You breathe out a small laugh, “Hard to describe, but let’s just say I have a thing for men that are a bit emotionally constipated. A touch of cynicism and awkward affection never hurt anyone either.” It was hard to put into words, but Regulus had a certain way of jarring you everyday, and his occasional niceties always had your stomach fluttering wildly. Not to mention your bloody patronus was all thanks to him. 

“A certain slytherin, then?” Blaise’s words come out light, but you can see the wild interest flying around in his gaze. 

Shaking your head, you can only sigh at the boy’s quick thinking, “How’d you know?” 

“Well, no one is better than me, but I suppose a fellow Slytherin is acceptable. Also, your ring. Two snakes? Subtle.” Your eyes shoot down to the ring you’ve been subconsciously twirling on your finger, and you gape at Blaise’s amused expression. 

Before you can respond, you’re both distracted by the sight of Harry and Hermione. The pair are sat at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione clearly upset over something, while Harry was trying his best to silently comfort her. Shooting an apologetic glance at the Slytherin, you’re met with a hum of understanding before he’s walking off. 

“See you around, Y/N.” 

As you wave at the Slytherin’s retreating figure, you see Harry shoot you a confused look. 

Great, another topic of conversation we need to discuss. 

Walking over to the pair, you crouch down in front of Hermione, whose eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying. 

“What happened, ‘Mione? Do I need to hex someone?” Hermione’s only response is a watery laugh before she’s wiping furiously at her eyes and nose. 

You look to Harry for an answer and he winces before quietly answering, “Ron and Lavender.” 

Well. That’s an unexpected pair. 

“Shall I kill the both of them?” Your voice comes out completely flat and serious, but it’s enough to have Hermione smiling down at you before seemingly calming herself. 

“It doesn’t matter. He can be with whomever he wants.” She is quick to jump up from her spot, “Now, I’ll see you both before dinner then?”

Without waiting for a verbal reply, Hermione clambers up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you alone with Harry. The boy simply juts his chin at the newly empty spot beside him, looking at you with poorly veiled anticipation. 

Slowly lowering yourself down next to him, you both stare straight ahead in silence. It seems like hours pass as you both sit on the cold stone steps, hoping that the other would speak first. 

Harry slowly reaches for his wand, casting a quiet muffliato, before speaking, “So, Regulus Black.” 

“Yeah.” You nod slowly and fiddle with your ring, unable to bring yourself to say much more unprompted. 

Harry swallows harshly before continuing, “It wasn’t a photo, was it? I thought about it some more, and he was a portrait.” He turns his head slightly and chances a glance at you, “Right?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in contemplation, unsure of how to respond to his remark without accidentally word-vomiting. 

“Cats out of the bag, I guess.” Your voice is weak, but you feel relieved when Harry looks over and smiles at you. Good to know he doesn’t hate you.

“Sirius doesn’t know.” It isn't a question, but rather a statement–one that has you hesitantly nodding. 

You lean your head down on his shoulder tiredly, mumbling out a small excuse, “Reggie wasn’t ready. We were figuring some things out for ourselves for a while, and he has this annoying gap in his memory that I’m trying to learn more about.” 

“Reggie?” You feel Harry turn his head down to peer at you, “Okay. Uhm, you don’t have to tell me everything now, but maybe when he’s up for it, you can bring him round to Sirius?” 

Tugging your jacket tighter around your curled form, you nod against his shoulder before whispering a small thanks to the boy. It wasn’t the lengthy exchange you were expecting, but you weren’t upset about how it went. Actually, this was probably the best case scenario. 

“So…Blaise?” His words are teasing and you’re surprised that he’s not accusing you of colluding with the boy, especially given how suspicious he’s been of Draco. 

Groaning at the implications of his words, you shake your head fervently, “Absolutely not. We’re just friends, kinda. Honestly, he’s not so bad and I’m hoping that it can be a mutually beneficial friendship. Blaise’s mother has connections spanning the entirety of Europe, and I’m hoping that maybe I can learn some more about Regulus’ predicament if I get some help.” 

“I see. If not Blaise, then Regulus?” Harry’s finger pokes into your ribs as he tries to fight the wide grin pulling at his lips. 

“What?” Your voice comes out strained, but bewildered and it has Harry smiling cheekily. 

“Well, he is quite handsome isn’t he?” Harry pauses before continuing, “Not as handsome as Sirius, though.” 

Shaking your head, you respond woefully, “I will absolutely be telling him you said that. But is there something you want to tell me? I thought you were tripping over your own feet for Ginny?” 

Harry emits a loud groan and gently shoves you to the side, ears flushing beet red. You laugh at your friend’s disgruntled expression and bask in the happy moment, satisfied that you lifted his spirits up. 

The following weeks spin by in a blur, and you’re barely able to take the time to appreciate how uneventful it was. It was the night before Yule Break and you were draped over one of the library tables, head pressed against the cool wood as mountains of scrolls and parchments surrounded your motionless figure. 

You had packed away your things the night before, excited to spend the break with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place (of course, you secretly had your own agenda). Harry was planning on heading to the Burrow for the second half of the break, which would leave you to attend to the recovering Black Lord by your lonesome. 

Hopefully, you could enlist the help of Remus so you could sneak away and explore. 

‘Have you died, little bird?’ Regulus’ voice is airy as it rings in your head. 

‘Unfortunately not. Mind putting me out of my misery?’ The sudden exchange has you peeling your heavy eyes open to stare at a blank parchment next to your head. Your bleary vision slowly warps and dances before focusing. 

‘You’ll have more than enough time to finish work over the break. Go rest unless you wish to miss the train tomorrow morning.’ 

‘I won’t miss it, I have you, my little alarm clock.’ Your tone is sickly sweet, and you could almost feel the way Regulus rolls his eyes at your words. Though, you supposed he was right, it would do you little good to be sleep-deprived on the first day of break. 

Beginning to sort through the mayhem of papers on the table, you barely hear his response, ‘It is truly unfortunate that I am unable to dump water on you then.’ 

‘How gauche, Reg. Besides, you wouldn’t. You love me too much.’ 

Reg doesn’t even pause before he retorts, ‘I’m keen on tough love.’ 

‘Not my observation, you’re a big teddy bear.’ Your smile doesn’t falter, even when you hear footsteps echoing nearby. 

‘A little ironic coming from a bleeding heart.’ 

‘Oh hush, don’t act like it runs for anyone other than you.’ You feel your face heat up at the admission, realizing that it was the farthest you’ve ever gotten at verbalizing your feelings. 

‘I suppose we both make exceptions for each other, birdie.’ 

His words have your face blossoming in warmth, and your hand pauses to hover over your bag. The drumming of your heart failed to cease even as you laid down on your bed later that night. In fact, it only grew worse when Regulus shot you a teasing smile as you rolled over to peer at his portrait. 

Merlin.

The start to your Yule Break was confusing to say the least. 

It was merely your first day back at Grimmauld Place and a sudden swelling of magical energy coming from your pocket had you frantically pacing back and forth in the disappearing room.

Regulus’ portrait had suddenly thrummed with wound up magic the moment Sirius stalked over to give you a firm hug as you settled into the home. The reaction was almost instantaneous, with Sirius even drawing back in confusion, having felt something faintly draw at his magical energy. 

You were quick to make an excuse to run up the top floor, practically barreling through the familiar door once you caught sight of the crystal knob. 

Regulus was currently propped up on the dresser, eyes glazed over as he remained unresponsive. You could feel Sirius’ magic wrapping around the frame and interlacing with the faint magic emitting from the object, only further piquing your curiosity.  

After a few more rounds of circling the room, you’re dragged from your pool of thoughts at the sound of Regulus’s voice. 

“Birdie.” It comes out strained, like he was still trying to sort out his thoughts. 

You practically fly over to the aged furniture, pressing your hands against the edge of the dark wood in worry, “Reg. Are you okay? What happened? Should I do something?” 

Regulus smiles softly at the flurry of questions, curls shaking as he tilts his head, “One question at a time. But yes, I’m alright. As for what happened…that’s a bit more convoluted.” 

“It’s okay, take your time. Sirius thinks that I’m off organizing my classwork anyway,” You drawl quietly. 

“Good thinking, my brother was always amusingly frightened by academic diligence.” Regulus’ musing has you propping your elbows on the dresser, keen on allowing the boy to guide the conversation. 

“Frightened he may be, but I think he’s fond of me now that he knows I’ve saved his life, twice.” You raise two fingers and wiggle them for emphasis, managing to nick a small grin from Regulus. 

“I remembered something. When Sirius hugged you, it seemed to dismantle some kind of block in my memory.” Regulus’ words come out dryly, but he’s still smiling at you like you hung the stars in the sky. 

You feel your eyes widen at his words, “That’s fantastic, Reg!” You pause before leaning back, “Right? That’s good, right?” 

The boy nods, before he sweeps a hand to push back his curls, “It’s amazing. Overwhelming, but amazing. It’s just, with the block gone, I remember everything. Including that two week gap before my death.” 

Your breath hitches, “So, human-Regulus put the block into place then?” 

Regulus nods slowly in confirmation, “Yes. Why he did it though still remains a little fuzzy to me. As of now, I only really can make sense of a few details, mostly about the Dark Lord.”

Your lips part as you try to formulate a coherent sentence, but you’re too surprised by the revelation to say anything, so Regulus continues, “Birdie, the Dark Lord was creating horcruxes. That’s likely how I met my demise. I remember it. Shortly before I–human-me disappeared, he was frantic over it.”

“Horcruxes?” The word feels bitter on your tongue, but you fall short on an answer for what it might mean, “I haven’t heard of such a thing before. Do you reckon that Harry has?”

“I think so. If not him, then Dumbledore might have an inkling of suspicion.” Seeing your questioning gaze, Regulus sighs and lifts his eyes to meet yours, “I’m not too familiar with what a horcrux is exactly, but I do know it’s a horrifically dark artifact. One capable of splitting someone’s soul through means of murder.” 

“Soul splitting? That sure has ‘Voldemort’ written all over it.” Your breathy laugh does nothing to relieve the sudden pressure in your chest, realizing that Voldemort was much more than just a psychotic wizard deluded by prophecies. 

Shaking your head, you force your anxiety aside, “It’s okay. If Dumbledore has an idea of it, then maybe there’s still a chance after all. Let’s skip over this right now, it’ll do us no good to spoil Yule so early. We can approach Harry about it after the break.” 

Regulus slowly nods, he too, investing his hopes in the eclectic headmaster, “Alright. There is something else I remember. I don’t know as much about it though since human-me was a bit hush hush on the subject. That, or he thought it wasn’t worth indulging after the whole horcrux news.” You bite down a laugh as Regulus rolls his eyes at the thought.

“Oh? Do tell.” You lean forward on your toes, pressing your weight fully on the dresser. 

“It might be in one of the boxes here. It’s some kind of rare book or journal that my Uncle Alphard gifted to me the year everything fell into chaos,” Regulus relays. 

Perking up, you quickly shuffle over to the dusty boxes in the middle of the room, bent on finding out what the boy was talking about. As you rifled through the endless pool of miscellaneous items, your fingers suddenly bump against a leathery surface at the bottom of a particular buried box. 

Fishing out the promising item, you let out a triumphant cry as you hold the book up in the air, “Reggie, is it this one?” You clamber off the floor and practically thrust the tome into the portrait. 

“Bingo. Good job, little bird.” Regulus’ words are colored in excitement and you’re reluctant to take away the book to read the title, knowing that Regulus was eager to look at the book as well. 

Slowly, you retract the item and flip it over, reading the words etched across the dusty orange cover. 

Fuck.

“It’s in Norwegian!” Your cry of dismay has Regulus raising his eyebrows. 

Seeming to take pity on your defeated form, which was slowly sinking onto the floor again, Regulus quickly comes up with a solution, “Birdie, just use a translation charm.” 

“Oh. Right.” You frown lightly at the realization, profusely apologizing to Professor Flitwick under your breath. Some Charms maven, you were.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You should go eat something, I can feel your brain fog from here,” Regulus’ teasing only draws a groan from your slumped form. 

Whipping out your wand, you cast a quiet reducio at the book, thankful that the disappearing room seemed to block out the trace on your wand. You were careless when you first shrank Regulus’ portrait before fifth year, forgetting about the underage magic trace, but luckily the Ministry never owled you a letter of warning. 

Tucking away Regulus and the leather book in your pockets, you swiftly make your way out of the room and down the dimly lit stairs, hands reaching to rub your empty stomach. One thing you didn’t miss during your times at Grimmauld Place was the lack of proper food. Kreacher could cook decently when he wanted to, but he never really seemed to spare an effort when Sirius asked. 

As you enter the threshold of the kitchen, you see a delighted Harry seated at one end of the table, and a flabbergasted Sirius at the other end. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Your voice interrupts the silent conversation they were having, with Harry turning to face your approaching figure. 

In spite of Harry’s active attention, it’s Sirius who speaks up, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiles widely, “Prongslet was just telling me about his success in Potions.” 

You nod enthusiastically at the reminder, “Harry is on his way to a Potions Mastery at this rate. Slughorn is practically yodeling his praises.” Your words have Harry rolling his eyes, but Sirius seems even more pleased at the reaction. 

Clapping your hands on Harry’s shoulders, you bring up a pressing matter to the men, “Now, how about we continue this chat over lunch, I’m starved.” 

The next few days of your break are spent following a routine of reading the tome, eating with Harry and Sirius, and surprisingly, exchanging letters with Blaise. 

The Italian heir was quite entertaining to communicate with, even through letters. You both established an unusual bond, and you found yourself finding common ground with him over your interests in dissecting anachronistic pureblood traditions. Blaise was surprisingly progressive about a lot of the political issues that wracked Britain, having grown up in Italy for a long while. 

Apparently British purebloods were the only ones on the upkeep about blood purity. 

You had spent about four days at Grimmauld Place before Harry was off sending a letter to the Burrow, notifying the Weasleys of his approaching visit. 

You were a bit dispirited to have him leaving so soon, but you knew he was eager to see Hermione and Ron (and Ginny, but he would likely send a stinging jinx at you for saying as much). 

It was the day after Harry had left when you decided to do your research more openly, knowing that Sirius had little concern about what books you were reading. As you progressed in your studying of the Norwegian tome, you realized that the book was concerned with discussions and theories on magical essences and their temperament, which was interesting to say the least. 

You could feel it. The truth behind Regulus’ portrait was somewhere in this book.

Though you knew very little about the capabilities of magical essences, you realized that you were much more in tune with reading and feeling other wizard’s magic, so if anyone could figure it out, it would be you. No, it had to be you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want to tag along with Prongslet, kid?” Sirius’ voice has you raising your head from your reading, the man casually propping his feet on the opposite end of the table. 

“If I’m not here, who will look after you, old man?” You mused. 

Sirius huffs in indignation, “I’m not some pallid geriatric. I’ll be fine on my own. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be off with Molly? I know it’s not my cooking that’s keeping you here.” 

“If you keep complaining, I just might regret my decision. But nah, I like it here. Plus the Burrow is too loud to get work done.” You droned as you brought your gaze back to the text in front of you. 

“Your head is always halfway down a book, kid. You know…you remind me a lot of my brother, he was a huffy scholar growing up.” Sirius’ voice is even, but as you flicker your eyes up to meet his, you can see the undeniable grief lingering in them. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat, “Your brother? Were you guys close?” 

You already knew the answer, having been given a brief rundown of Regulus’ homelife sometime ago during a sleepless night at Hogwarts. 

“Merlin, no. Not when we were older at least. But he used to follow me around as kids, toddling after me with his cherub cheeks and wobbly knees. Admittedly, he was adorable as a youngster. Never had anyone look up to me like he did…then my parents sunk their claws into him.” Sirius seems to be reminiscing more to himself now, words growing quieter with each passing second. 

“Do you miss him?” Your question is barely above a whisper. 

Sirius raises his eyes to study you for a few moments before somberly tapping his knuckles against the table, “Everyday.” 

Reaching into your pocket, you wrap your fingers around the familiar frame, looking back down at the table in contemplation. 

‘Reg...’ 

‘It’s okay.’ Regulus’ words are quiet, his voice sounding choked up. You could tell he was touched and relieved by his brother’s words, unable to hide just how much he missed the man. 

With his approval, you decide to take the leap, “Sirius, I think there’s something you should know about.” 

The man’s eyebrows raise at your words and he leans forward in interest. You inhale shakily as you steel yourself, confidence wavering as different scenarios flurried around in your head. 

Before you can unveil the truth, however, a blast of blue light bursts through the wall and makes its way to the center of the table. 

A stag. 

The appearance of Harry’s familiar patronus has your blood running cold and you leap up from your seat, seeing Sirius slowly rise from his, as well. 

“The Burrow has been attacked. Voldemort knows.” 

The patronus dissipates, and you suddenly can't breathe.

He knows.  

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @anni1309-blog @summer-noir @mikeikax @mysticlockwood-ig @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua

[charmandabear]

Office Hours: caught that fever, I shouldn't be here (4/16)

Pairing: Astarion/Named f!Tav Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.5k Chapter tags/warnings: sexting, ruined makeup, mirror sex, red flag ass behavior, biting/blood drinking (full list on ao3)

Summary:

Every little touch or glance between Rosalind and Astarion causes a spark, and Rosalind's worried that something is about to catch fire.

Aaaaaaaaand here's chapter 4. I accidentally made this banner last week because I completely forgot about the Gale chapter. Oops lol. But this is almost entirely new content, maybe a few paragraphs were written prior but everything else is brand new. Hope you enjoy!

Next chapter ~ Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist Office Hours playlist on Spotify

“Twice in less than a tenday, you lucky girl,” Shadowheart says with a sly smile, tucking her feet underneath her and holding out her wine so it doesn’t spill on her white couch. Rosalind hides her pink face behind a deep sip from her glass.

“I dunno, man. I can’t tell what he wants with me,” she says with a groan, putting her wine down on the coffee table and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Well, what do you want with him?” Shadowheart asks plainly, as though answering is the simplest thing in the world. Rosalind scrunches her nose, unsure if she just doesn’t know the answer, or if she does know the answer and doesn’t want to say.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” she adds under her breath, and Shadowheart gives her a salacious look as her flush deepens. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” Shadowheart asks carefully, earning a glare from Rosalind. Nevertheless, she can’t bring herself to disagree, so she drops her less-than-menacing expression and covers her face in her hands. Taking a different approach, Shadowheart tries, “Walk me through the end again, right before the arcana professor came back in?”

“Ugh, I still can’t believe that happened. What a nightmare.” Rosalind takes another sip while Shadowheart stares at her pointedly. “Okay, he made some joke about having sex in my office, then I sort of hit him in like a ‘Stop it, you,’ kind of way, and then we like… hugged?” She recalls the events to the best of her ability. It’s been a fiveday already, and everything was a bit hazy to begin with.

“Did he seem sincere when he said it? Was it a ‘haha, jk… unless?’ sort of joke?” Shadowheart asks, and Rosalind realizes that her friend wouldn’t look out of place with a deerstalker cap and a pipe with the way she’s interrogating her. She stares blankly into her wine as she contemplates the question.

“It had enough plausible deniability to save himself from embarrassment. But he did seem kinda earnest, I think,” she finally settles on, and Shadowheart nods judiciously.

“So is that it? You’ll trade off fucking in each other’s offices until, what, someone catches you in the act?” she asks bluntly, and Rosalind almost chokes on her wine.

“I would certainly hope not! But I suppose,” Rosalind sighs, trying to decide if she’s ready to say the words aloud or not. “If he asked. I wouldn’t say no.”

“Asked what?” Shadowheart narrows her eyes, and Rosalind groans.

“You’re going to make me say it?” she whines.

“Yes.” Shadowheart stares at her without blinking.

“If he asked. Me out. On a date.” Rosalind breaks up the phrase, as though saying it continuously would hurt in some way. Shadowheart pats her knee sympathetically.

“See, was that so hard?” she asks, voice teasingly condescending.

“Yes, excruciating,” Rosalind pouts, taking a gulp of her wine.

***

Rosalind doesn’t see much of Astarion in the following days, but whenever she does, they share a secretive smile that sends a jolt of lightning right to her core. He’s far less aggressive in his attempts to fluster her, and she can only hope it means that they’ve called an unspoken truce. Nevertheless, she tries to temper her expectations so she’s not mildly disappointed every day that passes where Astarion doesn’t pull her into a supply closet. Years on various dating apps, and you haven’t been this down bad for someone in a while.

“Don’t forget that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead opens in just over a tenday, so if you haven’t gotten your tickets, now would be a good time,” Rosalind projects over the sounds of her students packing up. “And if you don’t want to pay for a ticket, you can see the show for free if you sign up to usher.”

“Wait, we have to pay? Where do we sign up to do the usherin’ thing?” Dondo’s head pops out from the huddle of his friends, conspiring to do gods know what.

“At the box office, but Dondo, if you’re going to be an usher you need to show up an hour early and be ready to work, understood?” Rosalind sharpens her voice and the cheeky freshman gives her a salute. “Alright everyone, enjoy the fiveday break.”

Once most of the students have filed out of the classroom, Rosalind lets out a heavy sigh and presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. She’s very much looking forward to cracking open the bottle of wine in her fridge with Shadowheart later.

She walks past her office towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, scrolling through emails on her phone. She doesn’t see Astarion coming from the opposite direction and stops short of barrelling into him. They lock eyes and smile politely, then she steps to her left just as he steps to his right. They share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes her by her shoulders and moves her to the side. She gives him a chagrined smile and quickly walks past, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks and the way her arms tingle where he touched her.

She gets to the bathroom and closes the door behind her, leaning against it to brace herself. Her stomach is roiling, though whether it’s from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, she can't quite tell. She wets a paper towel with cool water and presses it to the back of her neck. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, trying to will herself into temperance as drops of rapidly warming water run down her cleavage. It's a losing battle as the image of him bending her over the sink pops into her mind. She shakes her head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He has her pressed up against the bathroom door and with her wrists pinned together above her head.

No, stop, she scolds herself. But the second she banishes that image another one comes flooding in, her leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking her clit with his fingers curled deep inside her.

Her phone buzzes suddenly, causing her to jump out of her filthy reverie. She looks at her screen to see a text from an unknown number.

-Darling, I can smell you through the door, it’s obscene.

She lets out an audible yelp and she immediately hears his laugh on the other side of the bathroom door. Is he just standing there?

-How the fuck did you get my number?

-Hope’s computer is not nearly as secure as it should be.

-Did it occur to you to just *ask* me?

-Now, where is the fun in that?

Rosalind grits her teeth but still finds herself suppressing a smile. He should not be this charming when he’s being a little shit. Before she can fully gather her thoughts, her phone buzzes again.

-Well, aren’t you going to take care of yourself?

She stares at her phone, mouth agape and cheeks quickly turning red. Her brain can’t formulate words, nevermind a response, but she doesn’t need to wait long for another text from him.

-If you don’t know where to start, I can talk you through it.

Her heart begins to pound as she pieces together what he’s suggesting. Her fingers shake as she hesitantly types her response.

-What should I do first?

She can picture the smile that spreads across his face, one of mischief and glee and wickedness. She leans her back against the door, breathing heavily as she waits for his first instruction.

-Touch your breast over that cute green sweater you’re wearing. Squeeze it, nice and slow. How does that feel?

She does as she’s told, fondling her breast with one hand and continuing to hold her phone with the other. Her nipple gets hard under her touch, eager for more.

-good

It’s a bit of a pain to stretch her left thumb across her screen, but she finds this too exciting to care. She imagines him leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, one long leg crossed over the other, looking completely unfazed. If anyone were to walk by, it would just look like he’s stopping to text.

-Lovely. Is your nipple poking through your sweater? Give it a twist. Don’t be shy about it, you know that I wouldn’t.

She pinches her nipple through the cotton of her sweater and just barely catches the moan as it escapes her lips.

-I heard that, very good.

She wants to curse his heightened hearing, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t add to the thrill.

-Tell me, how wet are you between your legs?

She moves her right hand down her front, slipping it beneath her skirt and touching the apex of her thighs. She’s already soaked through her panties and tights.

-very

-How do you taste?

She exhales sharply as she feels herself clench around nothing. She presses against her damp tights and licks the moisture off her finger.

-salty. Bitter

-Now, I don’t believe that for a second. You tasted sweet, last I checked.

Her breath wracks through her chest, her head fogged up by a thick cloud of lust.

-Get a better sample. Straight from the source.

She bites down on her lip to stifle her whimper. She pushes her hand down past the waistband of her tights and panties and slips a finger between her folds, scooping up the pool of arousal that’s formed there. She slowly brings it to her mouth and gives a tentative lick.

-A little, yea

-Don’t hold back, darling. Give those fingers a nice thorough suck. For me.

His words make her squirm, but she follows his instructions nonetheless. She takes her ring finger in her mouth and presses her tongue against it. Tasting her slick pulls a moan out of her, and she drops her head back against the door.

-Oh yes, I liked that. Very good. Would you like to properly touch yourself?

-pls

-Good. Get rid of those tights completely. They’re just in our way.

Rosalind rolls her eyes, the illusion breaking just a bit. Does he know what a pain in the ass it is to fully take them off? Can’t she just push them down to her knees? He seems to be able to sense her hesitation and his response is quick.

-I could always come in there and rip them myself, dear, but I don’t think you want that again.

The feeling of exasperation clashes with her arousal unexpectedly. She finally sighs and gets to unlacing her Doc Martens before sliding off her tights, panties, and socks in a single motion. The tile is cold beneath her bare feet and she’s just grateful that they keep the faculty bathrooms clean.

-ok

-Good girl.

The praise stirs something deep within her and she lets out her most embarrassing noise yet. She slaps her free hand over her mouth and she hears him laugh again on the other side of the door.

-Noted. Now, I believe I said something about touching yourself properly?

She slides her hand back between her legs and brushes her middle finger over her clit, letting out a shaky breath.

-Start slow. Small circles. Tease yourself.

She follows his instruction and her hips buck eagerly into her hand. She likes to take her time with herself, but this is borderline excruciating. Or maybe it’s just because she knows he’s merely feet away and she’d rather have him touching her.

-How does that feel?

-ineed more

-Do you, now? Start with just one finger, your pointer.

She groans softly at the insertion, breathing heavily.

-Does that feel good?

-yea

In truth she’s craving so much more, but she’s afraid if she makes that clear he’ll slow down even further.

Although honestly, would he even know? She can touch herself however she wants, she doesn’t have to play along.

But something keeps her from defying his instruction. It may be a stupid game, and she may be frustrated, but she’s more turned on than she ever remembers being at the height of her relationship with Aradin.

-Put in a second finger. Slide them in and out. Fuck your fingers like they’re mine.

He doesn’t need to have vampiric hearing to hear the guttural noise she makes. She moves her fingers in and out, but it’s not nearly enough to be satisfying. She widens her stances to try to get deeper, and she pushes against the door, making it rattle.

-Very good. Faster.

She keens and speeds up her fingers, palming her clit desperately. Her breathing is shallow and she tries to picture those piercing red eyes looking at her over his glasses, his devilish smile with a single fang poking out. But her imagination isn’t doing the trick and her wrist is beginning to cramp.

She needs to feel him inside her.

-pls more

-I need

-A station

-fuck

-I need u

The fingers on her left hand shake as she tries to text a single coherent thought. She tries to give herself the relief she needs, but at this point he’s the only one who can satisfy her. She pushes herself against the door, whimpering and whining, until her phone buzzes again.

-Unlock the door.

She gasps and pulls off the door as quickly as she can, unlocking it with her slick hand. Astarion immediately bursts in and slams it behind him before pulling her into a crushing kiss. She hardly cares when she drops her phone and it clatters to the tile floor. Considering how composed his messages were, his appearance tells a completely different story. There’s a thin sheen of sweat across his brow and the tips of his ears are pink. Their hands fumble together at his belt, trying to get it undone as quickly as possible. She pushes his pants and underwear down to his knees and moans when she sees his cock, flushed and a pearly bead of precum at the tip. He doesn’t waste any time in hooking a hand under her knee and pressing it against the door, spreading her wide so he can easily push himself in up to the hilt. She groans when he bottoms out, her walls clenching around the sudden fullness.

“Gods, you feel good,” he moans as she slides her hands into his hair and pulls him closer, trying to feel as much of him as possible. She latches onto the left side of his neck, nipping and licking the cool flesh, savoring the sweet saltiness of his sweat. He shudders and digs his fingers into her thigh as he begins to pound into her properly, each thrust making the door shake.

“Astarion, yes, gods, this is—” Rosalind can barely string two words together so desperate is her need. She clings onto the back of his neck, rutting her hips to meet his. She’s already so close with all of his teasing. He presses his forehead into the crook of her neck and her head falls to the side, her eyes landing on the mirror above the sink. She sees only her own reflection from the waist up, disheveled and well-fucked, lipstick smeared from his abuse. She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Eyes open, love,” he growls, his free hand grabbing her hair and keeping her head turned toward the mirror. “I want you to see how pretty you are when you come.” She whimpers but complies, seeing her flushed features contort with pleasure and her breasts pressed flat by his chest. He pistons his hips into her, picking up the pace and revving up her climax with it. His breath is heavy on her neck, and she’s struck with a dizzying thought.

“Fuck, Astar— I’m close— bite me,” she manages, twisting her fingers into his curls. He grunts in assent and sinks his fangs into her flesh; she watches her mouth fall open into a silent moan as the shards of ice melt into that sublime warmth. Tears form in the corners of her eyes and mix with her mascara to create dark smudges under her eyes. A single drop of her blood runs down her decolletage and disappears into her cleavage. The sight of her face deep in bliss, of the red rivulet coating her skin, the feeling of his cock stretching her out as she throbs around his length is all too much and sends her crashing over the edge. She can feel his climax nearly instantaneously as he snaps his hips into hers, his cock pulsing as it spurts into her.

She rides out the wave of her pleasure, growing lightheaded as he continues to drink, and it’s only when she starts to grow limp in his arms that he pulls away. She finally turns away from the mirror to see him breathing heavily and licking his blood-smeared lips. There’s a look in his eye even more wild than the other times he’s drunk her blood.

“Gods, that was…” he pants, and Rosalind giggles sleepily.

“Did it taste different?” she asks, barely thinking as she reaches out and swipes her thumb across his lips. He watches in astonishment as she licks her blood off her finger and contemplates the flavor.

“It— yes. Very.”

Rosalind smiles, pleased to see Astarion struggling to form a sentence just as much as she usually does. She looks down at her tights strewn across the bathroom floor and groans.

“I can’t believe you had me take them all the way off,” she whines, picking up the nylon bunched with her damp panties.

“I presume this is still preferable to me tearing through them,” he smirks, cocking an eyebrow. “Although if you don’t want to worry about it…” He gently takes her wrist and pulls her hand still holding the bundle to his nose, inhaling deeply. She bites her lip as he maintains intense eye contact with her. “I can always keep them for myself.”

She lets out a shaky breath before snatching the bunch back with a laugh. “You’re a fucking freak,” she says without a hint of malice, and his face breaks out in a grin.

“Looking at yourself in the mirror again, are you?” he retorts with his ringing giggle. She rolls her eyes and turns away to hide her giddy smile.

“Is the hallway clear?” Rosalind asks once she’s finished lacing up her boots. Astarion presses an ear to the door and she holds her breath.

“I hear someone down the hall. Let me leave first and I’ll text you when the coast is clear,” he says in a hushed tone. She nods and he stares at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. He plants a quick kiss on her lips before slipping quietly out the door. She stands in the middle of the single stall bathroom awkwardly and suddenly catches sight of her ruined face in the mirror. She rolls her eyes — yet another consequence that only she needs to deal with — and grabs a paper towel, carefully wiping off her makeup to the best of her ability. It’s not terribly effective without makeup remover, but she manages to leave her lips only slightly stained and the black rings around her eyes significantly reduced.

As she’s resetting her face, she continually glances at her phone, waiting for his text. When she’s finally put herself back together and still no text, she’s worried that he’s pranking her. She presses her ear to the door, straining to hear any signs of voices, but her hearing isn’t nearly as sharp as his. She’s just about to give up and leave when her phone buzzes.

-All clear.

Then, after a moment,

-Thank you. You were a very good girl.

Her breath hitches before she groans at herself. She doesn’t need to let herself get this wrapped around his finger, that seems like a recipe for disaster.

Rosalind is relieved to see that the hallway is, in fact, empty. She pulls her keys out of her skirt pocket and unlocks her office door, and she’s immediately hit with Astarion’s fragrance. She sniffs her sweater, trying to figure out if it’s just lingering on her, but she has her answer when she sees a note left on her desk in a tidy, elegant hand.

Let me make you dinner. Tomorrow at 7.

Below it is an Upper City address.

Rosalind’s heart begins to pound with excitement, and the exhilaration of the invitation is almost enough for her to ignore the fact that he broke into her office to leave it.

Almost.