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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 2 days ago

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One was enough- Diary, Ring, Locket, Cup, and Diadem! Tom Riddle x Reader -Smutshot

Request from @sweatymusictree; Can I request of Tom riddle x reader? Where his horcruxes turn to human when reader did something to make them human. This could be a fluff, smut, chaotic.

A mix of smut, humor, and fluff…I guess. Enjoyyy, age gaps included, I guess starts in chamber of secrets, starts same age as diary Tom.

warning; threesomes, foursomes, and fivesoms(kinda), lotta smut, breeding kink, Tom Riddle X4

Edit; it turned into angst/an actual story…idk, guess I can’t write without plot.

How she discovered it she really didn’t know, but she got her hands on a diary in her 6th year, and upon opening it, discovered it was so much more than a diary. She learned it held the trapped soul of a boy named Tom Riddle from the 40’s, so she helped release him-only to learn he…partially lied to her, but he liked her, so he ‘kept’ her.

“Could you let me go? I have to go to breakfast,” (y/n) murmured from within Tom’s arms, which were tight around her as he forced her to sleep in with him, he had no obligations-though he made her bring extra work back to her room so he could study-only having memories to the end of his 6th year, meaning he knew nothing beyond that.

“No,” Tom muttered against her neck, laying kisses on her warm skin-the blankets heavy on both of them, a tempting feeling to stay in bed with her boyfriend. Yes. He was her boyfriend-she didn’t decide it he did.

“But I’m hungryyy,” (y/n) groaned, trying to roll out of his arms but he held her tightly, keeping her still as he pressed kisses down her neck and arm, fingers hooking into her shorts. “Tom-“ she huffed, kicking at him and he pinned her leg, sucking the skin of her thigh into his mouth.

“I’m hungry too,” he chuckled, pulling her shorts and underwear down, his tongue connecting with her cunt that was still a bit swollen from the last night. She groaned, letting her thighs fall open as he licked at her, his tongue soft and warm against her-smoothing over her clit.

He brought her to a slow-burning orgasm that left her breathless, panting quietly as he crawled back up her body, leaning over her with his elbows resting next to her head. She shoved him off and he landed on the floor. “ow.” He grumbled, looking right at her as she stepped over him-still half naked-and went to get dressed and brush her teeth.

He grabbed her ankle as she stepped over him again and she huffed, looking down at him as he smirked up at her, blanket curled around his waist-topless. “Can I go?” She drawled, and Tom hummed in fake thought, and then shook his head. (y/n) groaned, throwing her hands up and smacking them against her thighs. “I’ll grab you pumpkin pasties.”

Tom let her ankle go.

After graduating from Hogwarts, she found a ring in an old shack, Tom recognized, or well had, the magic that kept it protected, and he was able to grab it for her and uncurse it. She could feel the same magic in the ring that she felt in the diary so-she freed the soul within and was met with an older Tom Riddle, around 20 years old.

He raised his brow at her, and then blinked as he was met with the, now 17, year-old version of himself-from the dairy Horcrux. “What?” he muttered and Diary Tom pointed at (y/n).

“She knows how to release the souls and give us bodies, don’t ask me I have no clue-but she’s mine-no touch.” Diary Tom said, grabbing (y/n) to hold her close as she sighed after Ring Tom had given her several lookovers, clearly interested in the random girl who could reverse horcrux creations and give them bodies with ease.

Ring Tom smirked, tilting his head. “oh, I wouldn't be so sure, after all-we’re the same person, just in different stages of life…I’ll teach you extra dark arts if you share.”

“Deal.”

(y/n) face palmed.

Her face was hot and her body felt feverish as Ring lapped at her cunt, smooth tongue against her clit and Diary kissed her, smoothing his hand over her belly and fondling her breasts, pinching her breasts. “She’s fucking delicious,” Ring groaned, spreading her thighs further to better bury his face between them.

“I’m gonna-“ (y/n) croaked, feeling her 3rd orgasm burning low in her belly, her shaking thighs squeezing Ring’s head as she arched, Diary scraping his teeth on her neck as she felt it roll over her, draining her of all energy as Ring kept smoothing his tongue through her folds. “okay okay-enough-“ (y/n) groaned, rolling her body over, Ring’s hair getting all tussled as her thigh brushed over his head.

Ring hummed, resting his chin on the back of her thigh, him and Diary(which she had started to mentally refer them as such since she couldn’t both call them Tom, it would get way too confusing too quickly.), glancing at each other before Diary tugged her into his arms-the two having known each other the longest and being the same age.

(y/n) huffed, letting him cuddle her, her thighs being massaged by ring. “This is my life now isn’t it? Being hoarded by split souls of the same guy.” She muttered to herself and Ring chuckled, Diary smirking against her neck.

“You did this to yourself, my dear. I hardly had to talk you into giving me a body; though I’m quite grateful, I much rather be linked to you than drain your life force to gain mine.” (y/n) huffed at Diary's words, ring sitting up a bit.

“Oh, is that how she pulled us out?” Ring asked, tilting his head and (y/n) nodded. “I reversed horcruxed you both, so now both your soul fractures are linked to my life force, I’m now your horcrux-to put it basically.” (y/n) mumbled and Ring smirked, climbing on top of her to suck a hickey into the back of her neck, Diary grunting at the extra weight but not shoving him off.

“Ah, so that was the instant connection I felt, and here I thought you were just attractive.” Ring purred into her ear, and she elbowed his head-just hard enough to make him flinch. “oi.”

“Get off me.” She groaned, she had enough on her hands babysitting diary, and now she had TWO of Tom. At least one of them was older.

Older, in no way meant more mature. They’d gone to Diagon alley to get supplies, food, clothes, and the whole time the Tom’s spent it bickering, (y/n) face palming half the time as they ‘discussed’ the best things for them to get, apparently only four years difference made a huge gap in fashion sense and preferences.

“She’d look good in this.”

“Oh yes.”

They were agreeing on something now? (y/n) thought to herself, turning to look at them, only to see them looking at lingerie, green in color and leaving nothing to the imagination if worn.

“No.” (y/n) said, pointing hard at them and Ring grinned at her, Diary pouting slightly-using his more, baby face, against her. “No.”

Diary huffed, putting the lingerie back and walking after her, Ring glancing back at the fabric-sneaking it into his pocket with no one seeing.

“You did not! You stole it?!” (y/n) yelped when Ring gave it to her when they were back at her apartment, her eyes wide as she held the flimsy green lace.

“I knew you wouldn’t buy it, and we wanted to see you in it.” Ring said with a smug smirk, leaning over her as Diary’s gaze flicked between her and the lingerie, swallowing harshly. “don’t we diary?”

Diary nodded, standing up from the couch, putting his hands on her hips and chin on her shoulder. “yes. Absolutely, I think you’d look stunning darling,” Diary purred, squeezing her hips.

(y/n) let out a long sigh, knowing they wouldn’t drop it until she did what they wanted. “fine. No touching for 10 minutes, you’re both suffering.” She ordered, heading into her bedroom the change, Diary tried to follow but Ring grabbed the back of his shirt-keeping him in the lounge.

When (y/n) emerged, Diary nearly tipped over-his eyes locked onto the way the lingerie hugged her curves, and just barely covered her breasts. “ten. Minutes. No touch.” (y/n) said, sternly pointing at both of them, punishment for stealing the lingerie. Ring and Diary both groaned, eyes following her every move as she went into the kitchen to make a snack.

“Oh, my merlin-look at that ass.” Diary muttered and Ring couldn’t help but just nod in agreement. (y/n)’s cheeks flushed, glaring over her shoulder at him. “Keep comments to yourself!” she snapped, and Diary groaned again, leaning on the dining table and sinking to his knees.

Him and Ring stared at her for the full 10 minutes, Ring keeping count on his watch and when the ten minutes were up-he beelined to (y/n) and scooped her up, (y/n) yelping as she was tossed over a shoulder. “Tom!” she squawked, feeling his hands roughly grip her thighs as he turned on his heel-heading straight for the bedroom with Diary close behind.

She was thrown onto her bed, which wasn’t as comfortable as she would’ve liked-letting out a grunt as Ring climbed on top of her, Diary quickly joining with an eager grin. (y/n) felt her face grow hot as Ring fondled her lace-covered breasts, his tongue slowly trailing from her collarbone to her breasts, Diary reaching between her and Ring to rub her clothed clit, her hips jumping.

Diary chuckled into her ear, resting his head on her shoulder as Ring undid her bra, tossing the lace to the side to take a breast in his mouth, circling his tongue around her hardening nipple.

“Honestly-you two are obsessed.” (y/n) groaned, reaching up to grip the pillows behind her head as Diary’s fingers dipped beneath her panties to rub directly against her clit in small circles.

“You’re our link darling, of course we’re obsessed.” Ring purred, spit connecting his tongue to her breast before he latched back on, his other hand fondling her breast as Diary’s fingers slipped inside her, slowly thrusting and curling his fingers gently, making (y/n) groan and turn her head to the side.

“Now, who gets what end?” Ring purred, sitting up, unzipping his trousers and Diary smirked, laying a wet hot kiss on (y/n)’s neck. “you got the lingerie; you get first pick.” Diary murmured, (y/n) obediently lifting her hips as Ring pulled off her lace panties.

“I know exactly what I want.” Ring groaned, reaching for the bedside drawer to grab a condom, Diary unzipped his trousers as well, moving to rest (y/n)’s head between his legs as Ring wrapped her legs around his waist.

(y/n) let out a low groan, her eyes fluttering as Ring pushed inside her, his hips slotted against hers as the tip of Diary’s cock tapped her lips. She opened her mouth, taking Diary’s cock into her mouth and he let out a groan, his head tipping back as both of them began to thrust into her, Diary slower and gentler while Ring quickly picked up speed and roughness.

Ring roughly gripped her hips, leaning over her as his hips smacked against her butt, sweat beading at his brow while (y/n) writhed and let out muffled groans as Diary tipped her head further back, allowing him deeper into her mouth, and into her throat.

“She’s so fucking warm.” Diary moaned, holding the back of her neck for support as he rolled his hips towards her. Ring groaned in agreement. “and so tight.” Ring said, Diary beginning to pant as he felt himself get close. He was younger, (y/n)’s age, so he didn’t last as long as Ring did.

Diary let out a half-choked moan, spilling himself into (y/n)’s throat, she swallowed around him, and he pulled out of her mouth as he felt it become too much for him, panting heavily as he leaned back, adjusting (y/n)’s head to lay in his lap as Ring continued to pound into her.

(y/n) breathed heavily as she felt Ring fuck her hard and deep-just like he always did, the two were insatiable, especially Ring, who had higher stamina than Diary. She groaned as Ring’s finger swirled her clit, pressing just hard enough to make the pit in her gut grow hotter.

“I’m-!” she gasped out, hips jolting as Ring rolled his hips just right and hit that spot inside her, making her crash. She moaned as her orgasm rolled over her, clenching tight around Ring’s cock and he groaned in turn-releasing inside the condom, pulling out slowly after a minute.

“All ours,” Diary hummed from above her, leaning down to kiss her cheek as Ring massaged her bruising hips. Ring grinned in agreement, watching their girl come down from her high, her body twitching as Diary rubbed her neck and jaw.

Ring had gone out for a walk, Diary sulking at home while (y/n) was at work. Diary being the first made horcrux and the first resurrected-was especially attached to (y/n), since they were also the same age, so any time (y/n) ignored him or went somewhere Diary couldn’t follow-he sulked, much like the teenager/young adult he was.

Ring paused as he passed by a set of apartments, looking up at the solid building. He could sense another apartment inbetween two apartments, hidden by an intricate spell. He also sense something else, another soul fracture.

He held his hand up, summoning his soul fracture to him. It was resistant for a moment, and then came crashing through a spell border, a locket-Slytherin’s locket-landing in his palm, the chain icy cold against his fingers. It was covered in dust.

Why would one of his horcruxes-Slytherin’s locket of all things-be in an abandoned apartment? The apartment of the Black family no less. Ring didn’t dwell on it, pocketing the locket and heading straight back to (y/n)’s apartment, polishing the locket and setting it on the dining table for her to see when she got home.

“What is that?” Diary asked-watching Ring polish the locket. Ring smirked, holding it up in the fluorescent light. “Another horcrux, our mother's locket.” Ring murmured and Diary was up on his feet, gently grasping the locket and taking it from Ring’s hands.

“Slytherin’s locket.” Diary whispered, looking giddy. Ring takes it back and sets it on the table, the two waiting for (y/n) to return, when she does, she takes one look at them and sighs, loudly.

“What happened now?” she drawls, walking further into her apartment, resting her hands on the back of Ring’s chair, he picks up the locket and hands it to her. She can instantly feel the same magic that the Ring and Diary had, and she sighs, letting her head fall back in exasperation. “Another one?!”

Ring shrugged with a smirk, Diary huffing slightly as (y/n) went off to her room to grab what she needed to resurrect this soul fracture. After an hour, there's a new Tom standing in her living room-this one the oldest by far, probably in his mid to late 30’s. He’s…well he’s for sure handsome, age definitely does Tom well.

His red-tinted gaze locks onto her and makes a move to draw his wand(which of course he doesn’t have, Ring and Diary had been sharing a wand that (y/n) had gotten soon after graduating.) but is interrupted by Ring and Diary-Locket quickly shocked being faced by two younger versions of himself.

“Relax, yes, we’re horcruxes as well, I was the ring, he was the diary-you, of course, were the locket, this is (y/n). She somehow knows how to resurrect us and give us bodies by linking our soul fractures to her own. Yes, the connection you feel for her is something we feel too and we’re all sharing her. It’s been fun.” Ring explained as Locket stared at them, and then at (y/n), who was staring right back, her arms crossed.

“Sharing her?” Locket drawls and (y/n) really likes his matured tone, slow and calculated. Diary and Ring nodded, locket pushing past them to study (y/n) up close, his gaze intense. He soon smirked, tilting his head. “I think I can agree with that,” he hummed, Ring and Diary grinning like wolves as (y/n) swallowed harshly.

Three Toms. Dear. Merlin.

She’s on top of Ring, Diary in front of her, and Locket behind her. Ring’s cock was inside her cunt, Locket stretching out her other hole while Diary made out with her, his hands massaging her breasts while Ring thrust up into her with short rolls of his hips, enjoying the way she was extra tight with all the extra attention.

“Mmm, I think you’re ready now,” Locket murmurs, his chest against her back as he leans up against her, cock pressing to her asshole. She let out a croaking moan as his rough hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her away from Diary and towards himself so she’s fully pressed up against him. She can feel every inch of Ring’s cock inside her, and the head of Locket's cock against her backside.

She groans again, clutching Locket’s arms as he pushes inside her, getting past the tight ring and then he’s in, him and Ring inside her at the same time. She feels short for breath, her vision fuzzy as Diary grumbles, being separated from her once again by his older selves. “Give her back.” Diary demands and Locket chuckles, deep and dark and (y/n) shivers, letting out a broken moan as he and Ring begin to thrust into her, one going in as the other pulls out.

“You’ve had her the longest, I’ve just gotten her.” Locket purrs, licking up the shell of (y/n)’s flushed ear and she shivers, hips jolting down towards Ring, he chokes a moan, gripping her hips tightly as Locket has his arms wrapped tight around her-hand around her neck and the other around her ribs.

Diary huffs, watching as his older selves thoroughly make (y/n) putty in their hands, Locket slowly rolling his hips into her while Ring roughly thrusts up, his hands bruising her hips again as she chokes on her breath and moans, her eyes rolled back and shuddering with each double thrust from Locket and Ring.

Diary moves forward, slicking up his hand with saliva and reaching to rub her clit, grinning as (y/n) gasped his(their) name out, her face flushed as her body rocked towards the pleasure. “That’s it, cum for us.” Locket groaned into her ear, scraping his teeth on her neck as his and Ring’s cocks rocked into her, Diary mouthing her breasts and rubbing her clit in quick circles.

(y/n) groaned, cumming hard from the three points of pleasure, feeling it through her whole body, clenching tight around Ring and Locket to where they came with her, filling the condoms with their release. “good girl,” Locket groaned from behind her-her ears ringing harshly in her head.

She was picked up and laid down on her side, Diary quickly gathering her into his arms to cuddle her close-since he had the largest soul fracture-he was always the most affectionate with her. She breathed heavily, leaning back into him, holding his arm as it wrapped around her. “that-was a lot.” She panted out, Diary huffing against her hair while Locket and Ring smirked at her, Locket smoothing his hands over her thighs while Ring admired the marks on her hips and neck.

“I can say, I’d never been much interested in sex, but that was quite-invigorating.” Locket purred and (y/n) huffed, letting Diary tug her further into his arms, glowering at the other two. “I suppose the soul connection she’s done to resurrect us has something to do with that?”

“That’s my theory, as doing so bounds us to her and her to us, soulmates practically.” Ring said, getting up to grab some cloths to clean (y/n) up with as Diary huffs again, he didn’t even get a turn this time and he didn’t want to push (y/n) further, she was already past her limit.

Locket hummed at Ring’s words, smirking. “interesting.”

After Locket gets comfortable in (y/n)s, slowly getting cramped, apartment-he reveals he’s actually the 4th horcrux, as ‘he’ made one more before the locket. Hufflepuffs Cup.

(y/n) doesn’t really want to look for the cup, she already had her hands full with just Diary! Now they wanted her to add another to the mix?? Four Toms?!

“How are you even going to find it? If the locket was hidden away, in a place you never expected, how the hell would you know where the cup is?” (y/n) asked, making dinner with Locket as Ring and Diary sat in the living room, having finished their chores.

“She makes a good point,” Diary hummed, resting his head back on the couch. Ring sighed, Locket pursing his lips slightly. (y/n) did have a point. She’d been slipped the Diary by someone, probably Malfoy or something since all three Toms’ did claim to be close friends with their era of the family, their closest friends actually. Then Diary had found Ring since she’d actually lived in Little Hangleton with her family; so Diary had easily found the ring in the old Gaunt shack, and Locket had been found by Ring by complete accident!

“Maybe we just, don’t look for it, after all, Locket was found by accident, Ring was found by accident, and Diary was just kinda-given to me, I also think on accident.” (y/n) muttered, the Tom’s looking at her as she addressed them by item names, not by their actual names. “look it’s the only way I can keep track of you, one Tom’s enough.” (y/n) said after catching Lockets side-eye.

“So, just-don’t look for a Horcrux and we’ll find one, good, great idea.” Ring drawled, yelping as he was smacked in the face with a wet hand towel, Diary snickering from his safe spot across the couch.

…

Two weeks later, Locket found the bloody cup. He’d been going to Gringotts to see if his bank account was still open, and while traveling through the caverns, he felt the presence of another Horcrux, and he knew it had to be the cup. While the goblins were distracted, he subtly held the shared wand out, and soon the cup was in his hands, ringing in his ears as he pocketed it.

He returned to the apartment, holding up the cup for all to see. Ring’s eyes went wide as (y/n) face palmed, sinking to the floor as Diary snorted from in front of the TV.

“…EVERY TIME?!” Ring bellowed as Locket handed the cup to (y/n) who had half a thought to throw it across the room, but didn’t, groaning to herself and standing, heading to her room. “every time we DON’T look for one, we just-find it?! We did not hide these well at all the fuck?”

Locket only shrugged, when he’d split himself into the locket-he’d kept all the Horcruxes on him, except his diary, which he’d given to abraxas for safe keeping.

Hufflepuffs Cup soul fracture was, in age, between Locket and Ring, so he was around 24-25, and just like locket-tried to draw his wand at her(again, which he didn’t have) to attack-considering everything it wasn’t the most unlocgical act-but Locket and Ring quickly talked him down, telling him the situation.

And hour later, she was on her bed, legs tight around Cup’s head as Diary cradled her in his lap, Ring and Locket on either side of her. “every time-“ (y/n) groaned, her hips jumping as Cup’s tongue smoothed over her clit, swirling it and then thrusting his tongue into her cunt.

“must be some sort of bond-sealing thing,” Locket chuckled, pulling away from her breast, spit connecting his lips to her nipple. Ring hummed, nodding slightly. “that makes the most sense.” He murmured, rolling (y/n)’s nipple between his fingers as Cup continued to smooth his tongue over her clit, making her jump again.

(y/n) just groaned in response, her face flushed as she clung to Diary’s pants, her head pressed against his stomach. She hated how it felt so good, to be surrounded by the four Tom’s, one eating her out, two playing with her boobs, and the very first-Diary-always grounding her, holding her the gentlest.

“Why does she taste so good?” Cup asked, his face flushed and he almost seemed drunk as he went right back between her thighs, his teeth grazing against her clit-making her jump and whine.

“Must be the soul connection, makes everything about her, delectable.” Locket purred, leaning down to kiss her, tongue intertwining with hers as she groaned, legs trembling as she felt her orgasm approach, the warm pit in her gut tightening.

She moaned against Locket’s lips, hips jumping and her legs closed around Cup’s head as she felt it crash over her, body jolting as she came on Cup’s tongue. He groaned, licking up every drop of her arousal, clinging tight to her thighs. He breathed heavily as he came up, lips slick and flushed.

“I wanna fuck her,” he said breathlessly and a moment later her thighs were being spread open again and Cup was given a condom. He pushed inside her and (y/n) groaned, panting heavily as he began to thrust into her, hips smacking against her thighs as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, allowing him deeper.

Diary held her closer, kissing her as Locket and Ring continued to fondle her breasts, Ring circling her swollen clit with his fingers as Cup continued to rut into her, panting heavily.

“Fuck.” Cup groaned, clenching his jaw tightly as he climaxed, slumping back. (y/n) huffed, panting heavily, her brow furrowed. She didn’t get to cum. Diary could tell and quickly grabbed her-scooting her back into his lap before Locket or Ring could grab her. “Mine.” Diary hissed, aimed at Ring and Locket but nonetheless making (y/n) shiver.

“Sh-“ (y/n) moaned as his talented fingers found her clit, circling it in the exact way she liked, his other hand slipping down further to slip inside her, finding her g-spot and massaging it. “Tom,” she breathed out, resting her head back against his shoulder, he chuckled, kissing her jaw and neck as he thrust his fingers into her, circling her clit just the way she liked-making quick work of her. “oh~!”

She felt her orgasm roll over her again and she trembled, holding tight to Diary’s knees as he kept fingering her through it under she pulled away. “I’m done-no more-“ she panted, smacking Ring’s hands away when he went to grab at her. “I mean it, I’m done. Three of you was enough,” she muttered, wobbling to her feet and leaving her room to take a shower.

“Perhaps, if we find any more horcruxes, we keep them in there for a while before giving it to her.” Diary said, glancing at Locket and Ring, who were staring hard at the bathroom door.

“That might be the best course of action,” Locket murmured, looking at Diary and he sighed-getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom. “Just me,” Diary said as (y/n) made a sound of objection to her shower being interrupted. “you know, you don’t have to indulge our every whim dear, you can say no to us.”

Tom said softly, leaning against the sink as (y/n) sighed, moving to sit down on the bathtub floor. “It just feels like that’s all you guys want from me.” (y/n) murmured, resting her head on her arms. Tom frowned, pulling back the curtain slightly, his brow furrowing tighter when he saw her on the floor. He got in behind her, not caring about his clothes getting wet, wrapping his arms around her.

“I know it feels that way, but we all care about you, I…apologize we all have a tough time showing it, none of us are exactly right in the brain. But we’ll all back off for while. Promise, no touching you till you say you’re ready again.” Tom said gently and (y/n) let out a soft hum, resting back against him, closing her eyes.

“Thanks…why are you the only one who actually comforts me?” (y/n) muttered and Tom shrugged. “Possibly because I have the biggest soul fracture of all the Hocruxes, being the first so I have half a soul while the rest are smaller fractures, so I have more…capability to realize when you need comfort.” Tom offered and (y/n) shrugged, it made sense.

“Are you feeling comforted?” Tom asked and (y/n) laughed gently, nodding, resting her head on his arm.

“Yeah, thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome darling.”

Two and a half years passed, the four Toms got comfortable living with one another, it was still strange for them, being around themselves-at points of their lives where they split their soul, but they got along easily enough and helped around the house that Locket helped buy.

Yep. House, (y/n) bought and moved into a whole house with four Tom Riddle’s, the realter was a bit confused-but (y/n) explained they were all family, Diary was her boyfriend, Ring was his brother-and Locket and cup were their uncles.

Still an odd dynamic but easier to explain that ‘oh these are all my lovers who are all the same person just soul fractures, and they’re bound to me for eternity :D’

Yeah, weird family dynamic was easier.

Just before summer, at the end of spring, all four Tom’s felt something shift within their souls, all four felt as if they’d had some sort of heart attack, Diary tumbling to the floor from the stairs as Locket collapsed in the kitchen, Ring and Cup both blacked out on the couch; all from the sheer pain they felt.

It felt like they were being reborn, painfully and slowly, bones being broken and realigned, blood vessels being stitched together, muscles tightening and straining to hold up their weights.

Diary was the first to recover, gasping for breath on the floor, twitching in agony. “He’s resurrected himself,” he groaned, wobbling to get onto his feet, catching himself on the couch. The others knew who Diary was talking about. Voldemort, essentially the ‘core’ version of them, had gotten someone to resurrect him after so many years.

“We have to tell (y/n), and find the last Horcrux.” Locket groaned, getting up from the kitchen floor, woozy and unstable. “How did you know there's only one more?” Diary asked, flopping down on the couch between Ring and Cup.

“Because I’d planned to make one out of the four founders items, the cup, the locket, the diadem, and the sword; I have a feeling he never got the sword-only a Gryffindor can, but I had located the diadem by the time I made-well-myself. I believe i wanted to hide it in Hogwarts as well.” Locket groaned, sitting down in the love seat, the three living Hocruxes listening intently.

“So, we find it, then what? (y/n) bonds with that one too? Then what?” Cup asked with a groan, rubbing his face. What was the plan? Did they want to foil Voldemort’s plans? Why? After they were Voldemort, wasn’t what he wanted, what they wanted?

“I think our goals have changed, haven’t they?” Cup murmured, the others glancing at him, and then around the apartment.

Yeah. They have.

“I just don’t see why I have to sneak into Hogwarts! I mean-it’s suspicious!” (y/n) said as Diary helped her put her coat on. “what am I supposed to even say to Dumbledore? Oh, hi Professor! I’ve resurrected the younger versions of the most dangerous dark wizard and now they want me to do it again to prevent him from using another Horcrux? I doubt he even knows what a Horcrux is!” (y/n) said, crossing her arms as the four Toms’ winced, realizing she was right.

How was she supposed to get into the castle? Much less try to get to wherever the Horcrux was hidden.

“Perhaps this time it would be prudent to wait and listen, see when to strike.” Locket murmured and (y/n) sighed, grabbing her keys.

“You guys can brainstorm, I’m going to get food.” She muttered, Diary grabbing his coat and following her out of the door.

It’s two years later that she gets the excusable chance to go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been murdered, by death eaters, the funeral was held at the isle in the middle of the black lake. (y/n) had arrived dressed in all black, a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand.

She set the vibrant flowers on his grave, closing her eyes as she rested her hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye professor, thank you.” she whispered, stepping back and sitting with the crowd, quietly listening as the funeral went on.

As soon as everyone was up and about-blending into one big crowd, she slipped away into the castle, quickly going through the empty corridors that seemed colder than ever before.

Finally, she arrived at the room of requirement, passing it three times before the door appeared. She pushed inside, greeted by a very large room that held…so many things. She went further into the room, looking all over for the Horcrux. Locket said it would be the diadem, a small silver tiara with sapphires.

She passed by several mirrors and knickknacks, furniture and cloaks. She spent about an hour looking, even shifting through things. He wouldn’t hide it too much-so he could find it again if need be, that’s what locket said. She looked around again, finding a flat velvet box that had snake latch on it.

She snatched the velvet box, opening it carefully. There it was, Ravenclaws Diadem-and possibly the final Horcrux. She took it out of the box, putting the box back down, and then set the horcrux on the floor, grabbing what she needed from her bag.

She’d have to do it here, feeling it was risky to bring the diadem home.

She took out her wand, a soul connection potion(very risky to make, but she’d made it so many times now that it was as easy as breathing), and cut her hand. She smeared her blood onto the diadem, and swallowed half of the potion, the rest being poured onto the diadem.

The jewel at the crest cracked and (y/n) was pushed back by a wave of magic. She held her ground, she knew the routine. From a swirl of dark magic-green in color-came forth the oldest Tom she’d seen, maybe mid to late 40s. silver fox if you will.

Tom’s scarlet eyes locked onto hers, he was confused-just as all the others(except diary) were, he looked around, recognizing the room. “how did you do this?” he asked, his voice slightly rough, but even and mature.

(y/n) took a deep breath, rubbing her face. “Okay, so-In my 6th year, which was-four years ago now? I was accidentally given the diary horcrux” Tom tensed at that but (y/n) continued regardless. “by Lucius Malfoy, I grew connected with that horcrux, yes I know what you guys are-I’ll get that in a second-and so I resurrected him, connecting his life to mine so I became his Horcrux really. Anyway, later we found the ring, I also resurrected him-so then there were two of you, Diary and Ring, Ring found Locket-I also resurrected him, and then Locket found the cup, who I also resurrected. Anyway, a year ago Voldemort formally resurrected himself as the dark lord and the others all told me to come get you so Voldemort couldn’t use you guys.”

(y/n) went quiet, looking at Diadem Tom, who was staring at her as if she was insane, which-honestly, by now she probably was. “Any questions?”

“…You linked yourself to, not just one, but” he counted on his fingers. “five Horcruxes? Are you okay? As in mentally?” Diadem Tom asked, his eyes narrowed at her and (y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno, probably not by now considering I’ve lived with four other versions of you for four years now, my sanity went down the drain when I met Diary Tom, anyway we should go. Dumbledore's funeral just ended and I bet there will be people in the halls any moment now.” (y/n) said, grabbing his hand and Diadem Tom jolted, stumbling after her as she tugged him out of the room of requirement-quickly finding a working floo fireplace and heading straight back home.

Diadem Tom was-quite…shocked to see four other versions of himself at the house, the youngest, Diary-who was the same age as (y/n), then Ring the 2nd youngest, Cup, Locket, and then himself.

Diadem took the longest to do the, hem, bonding session between him and (y/n), he was the oldest by far and had far more control over his desires, hardly even recognizing the feeling until the others told him about what really ‘sealed the deal’ for the link between them and (y/n).

“Really? Sex? How barbarian.” Diadem drawled, sipping at some tea while the youngest, Cup and Ring, blushed a bit-they were the quickest of the four, now five, to seal things between themselves and (y/n), Diary hardly even waited for her to explain what she’d done to resurrect him, he’d just launched himself at her with feral need.

“yeah, we don’t know why it’s that way either, but each time she’s linked one of our fractures souls to her, we just feel…intense towards her, we supposed it made us soulmates to her.” Locket said, gaze drifting over to (y/n) who was busying herself doing her laundry,

“Soulmates.” Diadem murmured, circling the rim of his teacup with the pads of his fingers, gaze locked onto (y/n). she was about 20-25 years younger than him, since he was in his mid to late 40s, but she was already lovers with his younger selves.

He let a slow smirk grow on his face. Perhaps it was time to show the younger versions of him how it’s done?

Diary was fully pouting, glaring at Diadem as he slowly rolled his hips into (y/n), who was practically drooling into the sheets of her bed, her fists clenched tight to the fabric as she moaned weakly, body jolting with each thrust of Diadem’s hips. “Atta girl,” Diadem purred with a smirk, his grin growing feeling her clench tight around him.

He looked up at his younger selves, who had all been…not allowed to be a part of the bonding this time, Diary was the grumpiest, glaring at him while he fucked (y/n) slow and deep. “See how jealous they are darling?” Didem purred above her, one hand pinning her down by her neck as his other hand held her hips still, hearing her moan and whimper with each shallow roll of his hips. “jealous of how well I fuck you? make you feel better than any of them ever had?”

(y/n) groaned, peering at Diary who sat directly across from her, both jealous and protective of her, hating the way his older self was actually cucking him. Well, and the others, but Diary didn’t care about them, only himself and (y/n). she gasped as Diadem slammed into her to regain her attention and she slumped forward, letting out a croaking moan as he did it twice more.

She reached out with her free hand towards Diary and he was quick to latch onto her, kneeling in front of her and she wrapped her arms around him-keeping him close. Didem huffed a bit but didn’t do anything against it, having quickly learned that (y/n) was the one who called the shots, she was their tether, what she wanted was most important.

It went against their core values-that they were the most important, but soul linking did something to them, and he could already feel his values shifting, even after only knowing (y/n) for a day.

(y/n) turned her head towards Diary, pressing her lips to his and he groaned, turning it into a heated opened mouthed kiss as he pressed back into her, one of his hands grazing down her stomach till he reached her clit, smoothing over it gently with the pads of his fingers as (y/n) moaned into his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair.

Diadem moved both his hands to (y/n)’s hips, rutting harder into her as he felt his orgasm approach, groaning under his breath as (y/n) moaned into Diary’s mouth, gasping and panting as she felt her orgasm tighten in her gut. “ah-Tom!” she moaned, feeling it crash over her and all the Tom’s groaned as she moaned their name, Diadem thrusting twice more into her as he came.

He smoothed his hands over her hips as he pulled out and she slumped towards Diary, breathing heavily as Diary gathered her into his arms, pulling her closer, peppering kisses along her jaw and corners of her lips. “Close to her is he?” Diadem hummed, his scarlet gaze locked onto his youngest Horcrux and (y/n).

Ring, Cup, and Locket nodded. “He’s the first she resurrected, and they’re closest in age; plus he has the largest soul fracture,” Locket said, reaching out to smooth his hand over (y/n)’s thigh but Diary smacked it away, glaring at him. “Ah-“ Locket snickered, smirking at Diary as he held (y/n) closer. “clingy today?”

“Fuck off. I never get to have her to myself-Actually! I haven’t had her to myself since we found Ring.” Diary snarked, having picked up (y/n)’s habit of calling the other Toms by their Horcrux item. Ring balked at him, Diary sticking out his tongue childishly, holding (y/n) closer to him.

“No shouting please,” (y/n) grumbled from within his hold, Diary looking at her and apologizing quietly before glaring at the Horcruxes again. Ring rolled his eyes and Diadem chuckled, Cup sighing while Locket smirked.

“Clingy~” Locket said with a slight sing-song tone-yelping as he was smacked in the face with a pillow going at Mach speed.

Hardly a year later, (y/n) was racing through the corridors of a battle-blasted Hogwarts, panting heavily and limping-blood staining her clothes and skin. She’d been paying attention to the secret radio channel, Potter watch, and the hosts had called for action at Hogwarts-a final battle of sorts.

The war would end today, and either Voldemort would win, or Potter would.

(y/n) was fighting for Potter, dodging and weaving deadly spells sent at her by Death eaters. She hadn’t told her Tom’s that she’d gone to fight, they didn’t even know this was happening today-she never included them when listening to the Potter watch channel.

She slid through the corridor, ending up at the room of requirement’s corridor-just as Harry, Hermione, and Ron flew through the doors with fire right behind them. The castle's magic closed the doors of the enchanted room before the fire could reach them. Malfoy and one of his two goons had been with him and they ran for it as soon as they could.

“Why wasn’t it there!” Harry gasped as he got to his feet, dropping the broom from his grip, running his hands through his hair in a panic. “there was supposed to be one in there! We’ve found-none of them! No Horcruxes!”

(y/n) froze, swallowing hard. They were hunting Horcruxes, to take down Voldemort-since with them, his soul was tethered to the land of the living, unable to be claimed by the Grim Reaper.

She’d found all the Horcruxes, she’d resurrected all of them.

She’d accidentally fucked up the plan to kill the dark lord, starting with the diary.

She stepped forward, wanting to help but unsure how, Harry’s eyes instantly snapped to her-wincing and holding his head. Then a look of realization came to his face, eyes widening. “you’re linked to him, somehow.” He murmured, standing up and rushing over to her-getting in her face. “Why are you linked to him!?”

(y/n) knew she had to tell the truth, there was no time to lie, or excuse herself. “I got his first Horcrux in my sixth year, your 2nd, it was a diary. We…grew close, he…convinced me to link his soul to mine, to resurrect him. Then it spiraled from there. He made several, the diary, a ring, a cup, a locket, and the diadem-I got the diadem last year-at Dumbledore’s funeral. But…they’re all alive, so they’re not horcruxes anymore, I guess. I’m more their Horcrux than anything else.”

(y/n) said, trying to explain everything from the last four-five years without it sounding absolutely insane. Harry seemed both disgusted and shocked. “you…linked yourself to him? Willingly? Multiple times? You put multiple versions of him into the world?” Harry yelled at her, and she stepped back, unsure of how to defend herself.

“Yell at her like that again and I'll kill you myself.” A familiar voice snarled behind her, and she whirled around, seeing Diary Tom-by himself, shared wand in hand and he stalked towards her, looking quite battle-worn himself.

“Tom?” (y/n) asked quietly as he moved to stand beside her, glaring at Harry who glared right back-recognizing Tom from the memories he’d seen of the past.

“what in the hell are you doing here? Helping yourself win the war?” Harry snarled-his wand drawn to Tom’s neck-Hermione and Ron following his lead-not sure what was happening but trusting their friend.

“My goals have changed, I don’t care about what he wants, not for a long time.” Tom said, staring right back at Harry. “I’m Tom Riddle, not Voldemort.”

Tom saying that made both (y/n) and Harry look at him, almost…astonished. “Then…why are you here?” Harry asked, drawing his wand back a bit. Tom turned to (y/n) smiling weakly.

“To protect what's important to me.” He said softly and (y/n) let out a soft coo, feeling a little teary-eyed, glancing around for the others.

“Softie…where…where’s the others?” (y/n) asked and Tom sighed, swallowing thickly.

“We listened in on that challenge you listen you every day…we knew a battle with…us was going down. We know he has to fall so…we found a way to combine our soul fractures again, since I had the largest one…it’s just me again.” Tom said, (y/n) now noticing the ring on his hand, and the locket around his neck. The cup and Diadem left at home.

“They’re gone?” she whispered, and Tom nodded, swallowing thickly again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but you didn’t tell us you were coming here, so we didn’t get the chance to tell you what we decided to do.” Tom murmured and she couldn’t exactly tell him off for that, since he was right. She nodded shallowly and Harry huffed, not pocketing his wand but lowering it completely.

“Okay…what do we do to defeat Voldemort then?” Harry asked and Tom’s brows furrowed.

“I could possibly absorb his soul fracture, but he might have made more Horcruxes, I planned to make 7, the magic number. So, two more possibly…I’m unsure.” Tom muttered and Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair, showing his scar. Tom’s eyes locked onto it.

“How did you get that scar?” Tom asked, his eyes suddenly intense and Harry groaned.

“You would know! You caused it!”

“I. didn’t. How did you get that scar.” Tom demanded, getting in Harry’s face-grabbing him, causing pain for Harry and Tom quickly let go. “You. You’re a Horcrux.” Tom breathed out, his eyes going wide with quick realization. Harry glared at him, rubbing his forehead.

(y/n) moved to stand with Hermione and Ron, watching Tom and Harry argued with each other-Tom trying to convince Harry that yes, he’s indeed a Horcrux (Hermione whispered to her that she already figured that out, Harry had an odd connection with Voldemort since she met him), and Harry argued that he wasn’t, if only because he didn’t want to be.

A blast that rocked the castle cut the argument short and Tom thrust a golden glowing potion into Harry’s hand. “Drink that, I can absorb your soul fragment, one less Horcrux to kill.” Harry glared but drank the potion, coughing as Tom then put his hand to Harry’s scar and blood poured from the new wound, Harry screamed as Tom pulled out a small shard of Voldemort’s, Tom’s, soul-it was nearly black in color but turned whiteish green as Tom absorbed it.

“That bloody hurt!” Harry hissed and Hermione rushed to heal the new open wound with Dittany, Tom sighing and turning to (y/n).

“Let’s end this, and go back home.” He murmured and she nodded. They intertwined hands, working together to help fight against Voldemort’s death eaters, blasting spells and protecting each other fiercely.

Reports of Tom must’ve got back to Voldemort; because he soon made an appearance, Tom full-on paling at the sight of the snake-like dark lord in the Hogwarts courtyard.

“Oh, merlin is that what seven Horcruxes turned me into?” he croaked, hiding (y/n) behind him as Voldemort’s nostril’s flared in anger. “yeesh.”

Voldemort’s thin lips curled with anger, showing his fangs. “an imposter dares to insult me?” he snarled, more hissed, drawing the elder wand in his hands. Tom’s eyes flicked to it before focusing back on his older self.

“Not an imposter. I’m the diary.” Tom drawled, Voldemort froze, scarlet eyes widening. “the rest were resurrected too, and then combined. I’m the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, and the diadem.” And the scar, but Voldemort didn’t know about that, so Tom didn’t say it. “and now, I need your fragment.”

Voldemort’s nostrils flared again, and he drew his wand-Tom pushed (y/n) back and drew his wand as well-magic met magic, blasts of spells and curses flying about the courtyard as Tom faced off with Voldemort. Both felt resistance, fighting one another-being the same soul.

In the background Harry went after the snake with Ron and Hermione, having figured out it was a horcrux due to Tom sensing the soul fragment within it.

Voldemort fought viciously, sending deadly curses and highly damaging spells, trying to wipe this-imposter-from the face of the earth. Tom fought just as hard, his teeth clenched tightly as he danced between the curses, sending them right back at the dark lord-determined to be the only ‘Tom Riddle’ in the world again.

Voldemort suddenly paused, pain clear on his face and Tom spared a glance to see that the snake had been beheaded by a chubby-faced boy with the sword of Gryffindor-with the distraction Tom launched himself forward, slamming his hands into Voldemort’s face-forcing the potion down his throat. “die.” Tom hissed in parseltongue, absorbing the very small soul fracture of Voldemort's soul into himself, the black piece turning grey as Tom took it.

Voldemort-without a soul-collapsed to the ground, eyes empty and lifeless.

Tom took a heaving breath, stumbling back from the body, turning to see the chaos of battle slowly settle, death eaters cowering after realizing their leader was dead, celebration from those who had fought against Voldemort.

And (y/n), still there, watching him, waiting for him. He smiled weakly, grabbing the elder wand from the dead man’s hand and walking over to her. “it’s over,” he murmured and (y/n) wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder and he held her just as tightly, sighing softly as he inhaled her scent.

He gave the elder wand to Harry, took (y/n)’s hand, and they went home.

The house felt empty without them, (y/n) realized. The house she’d bought with the help of Locket had been for six people, and now there were only two of them, her and Tom. “Is it strange I miss them?” she asked quietly while they made dinner one night, two months after Voldemort had been defeated.

Tom paused while cooking the rice, glancing over at her, before shaking his head. “it’s not, you were connected to all of us, not just by feeling but by your very soul, it’s…believable that it feels like somethings missing now.” Tom said softly, turning off the heat to comfort (y/n), who leaned into him. “they’re still here, just…it’s all me now.”

(y/n) sighed, tilting her head up to kiss his jaw and he smiled softly, turning his head to kiss her properly, cupping her jaw with his hand. “I did get all their memories, so I have different perspectives of the last five years, and the years before they were split into their items,” Tom murmured as they pulled away slightly, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

“Wow…oh does that mean uh, you gained their…experience as well?” (y/n) asked shyly, blushing, and Tom grinned, leaning down and scooping her up, wrapping his arms around her thighs-turning off the stove before heading right to the bedroom.

(y/n) huffed as she was tossed onto her bed, looking up at Tom as he crawled over her, smirking like the devil. He leaned down-she met him halfway-their lips connecting in a soft slow kiss, his hand drawing down her body to undo her shirt as their tongues met.

“Still so delicious,” Tom hummed against her lips, moving to pepper his lips sideways to her ear, then down to her jaw, then her neck, licking and sucking at her skin, leaving small marks.

(y/n) moaned softly, her body arching to help him get her shirt off, then her bra, his warm hands smoothing over her breasts, his mouth joining them. She moaned again as his tongue swirled around her nipple, the other being tweaked by his fingers and then given the same attention with his tongue. “Is this okay?” Tom asked against just below her breasts, she heaved and nodded, her head falling back as his lips went lower, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down with the help of her lifting her hips.

She let out a soft sigh as his hair brushed against her stomach as he kissed her lower stomach, fingers hooking under her panties and drawing them down, kissing the inside of her thighs before his tongue met her clit. “oh,” she whined, forcing her legs to stay apart as his hands held her hips, his tongue pressing hard to her clit, his fingers joining and pushing inside her, slowly thrusting into her and curling-making her heave for breath and gasp his name.

“I used to hate my name, but I love the way it sounds when you say it.” Tom murmured when he’d pulled away from her for a moment before diving back in like a man starved, moaning into her cunt as her arousal coated his tongue.

“Tom,” she moaned again, fingers curling into his hair as her knee hooked over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. He groaned and pressed his tongue harder on her clit, adding a third finger to give her more pleasure.

“I’m gonna-“ she groaned, she could very much tell all the horcrux's knowledge of her and how she worked had combined into one for Tom, because he was taking her apart so quickly it was almost frightening, but it felt so good. “Tom!”

He groaned, pressing his fingers into her sweet spots as he fluttered his tongue against her clit, smirking as she came, body trembling as she gasped his name, curling forward to clutch at his head. “fuck-Tom!”

He pulled away when she tugged his head away from her, “too much-“ she choked out, breathing heavily as he licked his lips and chin, and then sucked on his fingers, groaning at the taste of her. She was blushing furiously as he undid his shirt and pants, his boxers joining the rest of the clothes.

Tom reached to grab a condom from the drawer but (y/n)’s hand on his shoulder stopped, he glanced back at her, confused. She gave him a long, almost begging, look and he blinked. “do you not want to?” he asked, thinking she didn’t want to go full on today but she shook her head, closing the drawer with her foot, bringing him closer to her, her hand ghosting over his uncovered cock-that was hard and leaking.

He groaned at the touch, his brows furrowing as she stroked him. “I want…I don’t want the condom, I want to feel you.” she whispered, looking up at him. His jaw clenched and he kissed her hard, pushing her back down on the bed, one hand around her throat-like Diadem always did-keeping her pinned as her legs locked around his waist.

He thrust his hips to smooth his cock over her cunt, the tip rutting against her swollen clit. “Don’t tease,” she whined, and Tom chuckled, angling his hips and slowly pushing inside her, jaw dropping open at the pure heat he felt. “Oh fuck.” Tom groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her clench around him, wet, tight, and hot.

“Shit, don’t know how long I’ll last-fuck.” Tom cursed, she felt so damn good. He never wanted to use a condom again. “can-can I come inside you?” he asked, shallowly thrusting his hips and (y/n)’s eyes fluttered, nodding.

“yes-yes.” She moaned, leaning into him as he pressed against her completely, hand still around her throat as he began to fuck her, slow and deep at first-the two just blissfully enjoying the feeling of absolutely no barriers. They knew the dangers of unprotected sex but, perhaps it was time to start a new chapter for them.

And repopulate the house.

His hand pushed a little tighter on her throat and she moaned, their lips meeting as he began to thrust faster into her, rougher, his other hand gripping her inner thigh tightly as he rut into her, groaning and huffing as his hips snapped against her thighs.

“So fucking good, I can never get enough of you.” Tom groaned and (y/n) gasped into his mouth, breathing heavily as his cock kept hitting that good spot inside her, he angled his hips a bit and hit it even better-making her jolt and let out a whine, her hands clawing down his back.

“So-so good-ah!” (y/n) moaned, biting his shoulder to muffle her moans and he pushed his grip on her throat down-away from his shoulder. “No no. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” Tom growled and (y/n) whined at the sound of it, her legs trembling as she felt her climax grow hotter and hotter in her gut, Tom rutting into her hard and fast, echoing in her ears.

She came first when his other hand that wasn’t holding her throat circled her clit-her body arched and she tensed up, silent as she felt the band snap within her. Tom followed close behind, groaning heavily as he thrust twice more, slotting his hips directly against her, as deep as he could be, cumming inside.

“Fuck,” Tom said, lightly laughing as he slumped on top of her, wrapping his arms around her as they both heaved for breath. “never using a condom again,” he grumbled and (y/n) couldn't argue, it felt too good to use it again, she’d just get birth control.

(y/n) carefully polished the golden Hufflepuff cup, setting it gently back onto the well-tended shelf. The Horcruxes sat up on a shelf, polished to shine beautifully and the shelf they sat on was decorated with small gifts, like shimmery rocks and dried flowers.

She grabbed the diadem next, cleaning it of dust and making sure the silver metal shone before putting it back on the shelf, feeling familiar arms wrap around her, a chin resting on her shoulder. “Evening Mrs. Riddle,” Tom murmured into her shoulder and her heart fluttered, spinning the Gaunt ring around her ring finger as she turned her head into him.

“Evening Mr. Riddle,” she said softly, smiling as he kissed her cheek. “is dinner ready?”

“Yes, your favorite,” Tom said, taking her hands and drawing her away from the shelf, (y/n) glancing back at the Cup, Diadem, and Locket for a moment before following Tom into the kitchen, the Ring warm between their intertwined hands.

-end-

This got out of my hands lol, the plot just-appeared-It was meant to be just like smut with very little plot with fluff and like-funny? But it turned into plot…sorry for ‘killing’ four of the five Tom’s off, but they’re not technically dead! Technically, they just don’t got separate souls anymore….yeah this just turned into a whole thing lol.

Uh, hope you enjoyed??

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #fluff fic #diary tom riddle #smut fic #diadem Tom Riddle #Ring Tom Riddle #Locket Tom Riddle #Cup Tom Riddle #horcrux Tom Riddle #angst #voldemort #horcrux

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forgotteneffigy · 3 days ago

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Train Home

⋆ kento nanami x classmate!reader - the final part !! ⋆

word count : 588 ⋆₊˚⊹

before you read : jjk spoilers, not proofread, but made with love !! ⋆ read part one and part two !! <- here !! ⋆

You latched onto the idea of working at the same company as Kento ever since he suggested it.

Now you're resting your head against his shoulder, fingers interlaced by the knuckles. He holds you tighter, and the picnic basket in your lap jumps with each bump of the train as it moves.

“When we get older, let's retire here.” You say, sounding tired from your day. Kento smiles quietly.

A low chuckle leaves his chest. In his other arm, he holds the rolled up hibiscus patterned blanket.

“Thinking about retirement already?” he asks, amused by your sudden declaration.

“Why wouldn't I? You already have everything else planned, don't you?”

You look up at him to the best of your ability. Kento finds your attempts endearing.

“I guess so.” He answers in agreement.

“Though..” Kento trails off, looking out the train window. Okinawa's scenery was a blur, colored in a dusty hue. The sun was fully set now, and you and him were going back. Back home. To your grandparents' house.

“I've always wanted to go to Malaysia.” He confesses quietly, his pointer finger running up your knuckle in a comforting gesture.

“Malaysia?” You repeat, pulling your head from his shoulder to look up at him. He can see the renewed freshness in your eyes. The lines under them seem to soften.

“Yes.” Kento nods, his hair getting in the way of his face. “I heard Kuala's beautiful this time around.”

With a gentle swish of your hand, you brush the hair out of his eyes. You always did, and if you didn't, it felt like something from your day was missing.

“I'm gonna stick to you, whether you like it or not. I hope you know that.” You put the last part jokingly, trying not to laugh.

Kento smiles more as you pull your hand away, placing it on the picnic basket. “Kuala it is, then.”

You nod in agreement, leaning back in your seat, looking content with how things went with today's events.

A soft, loving sigh leaves his lips. Kento doesn't know that it's love right now, but it is.

“How will you ever manage without me, (Y/N)?” he asks.

Immediately, you reply, “That's the thing!” You point a finger in his direction, Kento expects an answer, but all he's met with is a stop for thought.

“I haven't quite figured that out myself.”

The pause of registration makes you both laugh loud enough to make the old couple beside you look over from their seats and chuckle to themselves.

“So,” you turn your attention back to Kento. That same shine you had when you were second-years still in your eyes. “If we get uniforms, are we matching or what?”

The idea of matching uniforms was absolutely absurd to him. Coming from anyone else, he'd probably shake his head and say no.

But for you, he replies, with “I’ll think about it.”

“You better.” He hears you say, Kento feels you poke his shoulder repeatedly, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

He retaliates back, returning the favor by flicking your nose with the least amount of force possible with his finger and thumb.

The train reaches its stop. You scrunch at the contact. “Ow!” Hearing your yelp of pain makes Kento pause. He thinks he genuinely hurt you until you let out a hearty laugh.

The sound of your combined laughter fills the carriage again, the doors swish open for passerby to hear.

Kuala can wait. He had you.

⋆ i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i had while writing it!! this is really short , but i hope that's okay with you all !! i might open requests soon , depending on the character (^-^)

#🥟#written by the lamb #read to your hearts content! like the fic? reblog and show your love in the tags!!#kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x you #namami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff

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song-witch · 22 hours ago

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Someone Old, Someone New

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Agatha Harkness, Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Word Count: 4,591

Warnings: No Powers, adultery, divorce, pregnancy (Wanda), this is so angsty

Summary:

“I want a divorce.” Agatha breathed the words out, holding her hands tighter as if it would end what was happening. She wasn’t perfect. Neither of them were. That’s why they had worked so well.

“What?” Agatha hated just how upset Wanda looked. Absolutely… broken. And yet… The worst part was over. It had been a long divorce in the making.

“I want a divorce.” Agatha was firmer in her words, her eyes a sea of dark blue. Wanda’s green eyes blinked back at her, her hands going slack in the woman’s hold.

A/n: i can't reread this without crying so... hope yall enjoy !!

Agatha entered the room as quietly as possible, stopping the door before the hinges could squeak like she knew they would, eyes scanning quickly. Wanda was fast asleep, propped against the headboard with her legs crossed under her, hands holding her belly. Dread pooled in her stomach at the thought of the woman waiting up for her, but it was easily replaced by the adrenaline of the night still coursing through her. Rio. Rio, Rio, Rio.

“Agatha?” Wanda’s tired voice flowed through the dimly lit room, making the brunette stop in her tracks. She had hoped to sneak in unnoticed, change in their bathroom and slip into bed without disturbing the redhead, considering how she had fallen asleep. Of fucking course, the redhead managed to screw up that plan.

“It’s just me, hon.” The pet name had her stomach churning in ways it hadn’t for a long, long time, disgust curling around her head. The worst part was; Wanda hadn’t done anything. Not counting getting pregnant, or marrying her, or falling for her in the first place, or- She had no reason to blame the redhead, not really, but she couldn’t blame herself. It’s not her fault who she falls for, or falls out of, for that matter.

“What took you so long?” And there was that god awful question. Wanda was good at that, asking what she didn’t want to hear. Speaking when she didn’t want to listen. Loving when she didn’t love back. Christ, she hated Wanda. Hated Rio. Hated herself.

“Work ran late, accident on the way home. Off of Ninety-five.” Agatha kept her tone light, though she spoke through bared teeth. It was easy enough to head into their bathroom to change, needing the space to clear her mind. She kept the door cracked, once again slipping into her role of loving wife. She hated how often she did it, almost like Wanda had placed a spell on her, put her in a role she couldn’t escape. Except, she could. She could ask for a divorce now, tell the redhead she didn’t love her, hadn’t for months, maybe even years now, leave her with nothing and run off with Rio. If only…

“That’s terrible, baby. I hope everyone’s okay. I’m sorry work kept you so late again, I know how much you hate it.” And again, that woeful voice pulling her back to the present, right where she didn’t want to be. She should have taken Rio up on her offer, should have spent the night at her house. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so… so pitied.

Agatha only hummed in response, not caring if she was loud enough for the woman to hear or not. She’d be asleep soon enough anyways. It’s not like Agatha owed her anything. She had given her heart years ago, was that not enough? Clearly it wasn’t as the redhead began to talk again.

“Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I made carbonara, there’s garlic bread on the counter to go with it. I didn’t have time to make it, but I picked up a boysenberry pie from that one place you like down the street.” She knew the redhead was stalling in an attempt to stay awake from the way her words were strewn together and beginning to slur together, occasional yawns accompanying her words. The worst part is that she knows how much Wanda dislikes said pie, despite how much she herself loved it. She wonders if Wanda knows. Knows she and Rio are… if she’s making her favorite meals in an attempt to keep Agatha all for herself. If she’s waiting for the right moment to rip them apart, to lawyer up and sue her to hell and back for her own personal entertainment.

Agatha knows better, though. Knows Wanda’s too insecure for that. Especially now that she's pregnant. She thinks about the nursery. She still hadn’t gotten around to painting it, despite the persistent nagging from the younger woman. Maybe Wanda had done it herself, if she wasn’t still so cautious about every goddamn thing either one of them did. She wonders how they had ever clicked, considering just how different they seemed to be now. She laughs at the fact that they thought they were soulmates. That Wanda still thinks that.

It was simple enough to go through her routine and ignore the redhead, the faucet running a constant noise that helped to drown her out. She found herself comparing Wanda and Rio, especially in the early days of their relationship. Wanda had been so lively. Somehow both spontaneous and preplanning everything at the same time. Rio was so much more. Rio could do what Wanda couldn’t. Rio could go out to dinner without bringing up them or their future. Rio could say fuck you to anything and everything in favor of either one of them. Rio could make her day brighter just by being… Rio. Could fuck her, plain and simple.

By the time she made it back into the bedroom, Wanda was laying down, facing the bathroom, though she seemed to be asleep. Once again, kept awake waiting for Agatha. The brunette could only scoff under her breath, pity rushing through her. Wanda was too wrapped up in herself to notice how Agatha would pull away first whenever they’d hug, always initiated by the redhead. Too wrapped up in this world of love they created long ago to notice how Agatha didn’t touch her anymore, how she was always the one giving and not receiving, per Agatha’s half-assed mumbles of being tired. She didn’t know how every time, she wasn’t thinking of Wanda. No, she was imagining someone else, eyes closed the entire time, even as Wanda spoke and touched her.

The thoughts weighed her down as she slipped into bed, glaring at the wedding band that stayed in the jewelry dish Wanda had gifted her years ago, yet another thing she hated. She laid on her side, facing away from the redhead as she tugged the covers over herself, her mind working a mile a minute and somehow blanking at the same time.

“I love you.” Wanda mumbled as she rolled over, clearly with more difficulty than she used to, arms wrapping around the brunette’s waist. Well, as much as they could considering the growing bump that separated them. Agatha was almost thankful for that, silently glad that their child was already saving her in ways she could never tell them.

“Love you too.” Agatha sighed out, something she could easily chalk up to being tired and not hatred, not bothering to cuddle into the redhead like she might have once had. Wanda’s forehead rested against the top of the back of her neck, a soft kiss placed there before her breathing evened out. Agatha couldn’t help but shiver at that, both in discontent and some awfully mangled version of the slight amount of love that still lingered in her heart for the younger woman, squeezing her eyes tight in hopes sleep would overcome her soon.

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“Wanda, can we talk?”

“Of course, baby. What’s up?” Wanda’s smiling as she sets her purse back on to the small side table she had picked it up from, her phone set next to it as she turns back to smile at Agatha and the woman couldn’t be more upset. This was going to ruin Wanda’s day. Her life, potentially. She’ll get over it. She watches as confusion works its way through the redhead’s face as she glances between her and sees Rio, her fingers circling her wedding ring. “Rio! I didn’t know you’d be joini-”

“Oh, please. Save the pleasantries for someone else.” Rio scoffed, an eye roll accompanying her less than kind tone, leaning against her hand as her head rolled with her eyes. Wanda’s fingers stop moving as she looks back towards her wife, shock evident in the way her mouth was slightly agape, as if looking for answers. Agatha could only grimace slightly yet not enough to actually do anything, instead urging the redhead towards the couch.

“Don’t mind her,” Agatha waved the brunette off as she continued to scowl in her chair, instead gently taking her wife’s elbow with as little contact as possible, “we need to talk.”

“Is everything okay, buttercup?” Wanda’s eyebrows knit together as she used the older woman’s hand and the arm of the couch to lower herself down, out of both concern and slight discomfort. Agatha intentionally kept her eyes on Rio, would tell Wanda she was making sure Rio listened if she asked. But she knew Wanda wouldn’t. Knew Wanda would sit prettily. Would listen as she spoke. Would cry at the inevitable. Oh well.

Agatha chose to kneel in front of the redhead, her back angled away from Rio, gently taking the woman’s hands into her own. It was the most touch she had initiated in weeks if not months. She thinks about how hands-on they had been when they met and even into the first few years of their marriage. How they could hardly make it out of the house, let alone leave the other alone once out. They had been so… obsessed with each other. Couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Bitterness washes over her at the thought that that’s how her relationship with Rio was. Both now and before Wanda. She couldn’t find it in her to care.

“Well,” Agatha found herself sighing, rubbing the girl’s knuckle’s with her thumbs. She had decided how long ago that they needed a divorce and yet she couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. Rio’s eyes on the back of her head weren’t helping. Her throat felt like it was full of cotton and she couldn’t even push the words out if she wanted to.

The room felt dead. All energy had been sucked out and replaced by solemness, a strange mix of heaviness and delight swirling through the air. Her heart felt heavy. She was nervous. She was never nervous. So why now? Well, for one, she was about to ask for a divorce. Not ask, tell. Tell Wanda they were getting a divorce and that would be that, lawyers be damned. And Wanda didn’t even know. Couldn’t prepare herself for it. Why did she care so much? She wouldn’t have to see her after this. Their child, sure, but not Wanda.

“Jesus, get on with it already.” Rio scoffed from the chair. Looking back to glare at the woman, Agatha wants nothing more than to push her leg off the arm and back onto the floor, telling her to sit properly if she’s going to participate in their adult conversation. Or maybe… maybe she wants to ravish the woman then and there, make her wife watch and hope she gets the memo. Yeah, maybe that would be better. Rio did look extremely tempting in her slacks and white button up and her woody perfume and-

“On with what? What’s going on?” And Wanda was confused again, glancing between the women as if they were conspiring against her. She hates that she’s right. Little miss know-it-all strikes again. That son of a bitch.

“Wanda, hun,” Agatha started, sucking in a deep breath even as her thoughts ran in circles, hoping the pet name would at least sugarcoat her words a little, “you know I love you very much.”

Wanda merely hummed in agreement, shifting her wrists to instead entangle their fingers. The move made the brunette grimace. Why did she have to choose now to be all lovey dovey. It was bullshit and they both knew it. Based on the look of concern on the woman’s face, maybe she didn’t. She once would have longed to reach out, take the redhead’s face in her hands and smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows, tell her not to worry her pretty little head and that everything was okay. Had she been lying everytime she had said it? Had she set Wanda up from the very beginning? Had her heart always belonged to Rio?

“And that I would never want to hurt you.” Agatha shook the thoughts away, struggling to refocus her attention on her wife. Her thoughts keep drifting back to Rio. Rio behind her watching them. Rio’s lips on hers just minutes before Wanda had come downstairs. Rio’s back pressed to the wall of their dining room after baiting her. Rio’s hands. Her hands in her hair, running up and down her sides, pressing hard into her hips, hard into her-

“Yes.” Wanda’s reassuring squeeze of their hands pulled her back to reality, that sick smile she had come to hate plastered across her face. She remembers how Wanda would ask her if she were reacting the ‘right way.’ Agatha had been confused at first; Wanda was going on 23, herself 31. She had thought it strange for the woman to ask her that; they had only been together for three months and yet the girl was hyper aware of every reaction she had. It had taken time to realize that Wanda had been behind the curve growing up in a country that wasn’t her home, trying her best to associate with others without having anyone. And though that had dissipated over the five years of their relationship, she could still picture the girl, quiet and yearning, softly asking if she was doing good in the late hours of the night.

“I want a divorce.” The picture still bright in her head, Agatha breathed the words out, holding her hands tighter as if it would end what was happening. As if she weren’t the one who brought it up. As if she weren’t the villain. As if she were the victim. Though, neither was Wanda. She wasn’t perfect. Neither of them were. That’s why they had worked so well.

“What?” Agatha hated just how upset Wanda looked. Absolutely… broken . And yet… And yet, a part of her rejoiced. The worst part was over. Now, it would be long before she was free. It had been a long divorce in the making. She hadn’t ever been free. Not really.

“I want a divorce.” Agatha was firmer in her words, her eyes a sea of dark blue. Wanda’s green eyes blinked back at her, her hands going slack in the woman’s hold. And oh how she hated that she still needed the redhead in some twisted way.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Wanda shook her head, hands limp in Agatha’s, her eyes misty. Agatha could tell she was trying not to cry, trying to keep her ever changing hormones in check, act less upset than she was. She knew the inner turmoil the redhead was likely enduring, questions of what would happen, why, when, potentially who.

“What’s there not to understand? Your wife doesn’t love you and wants a divorce, plain and simple.” Agatha almost wanted to smother Rio for the fact that she couldn’t fucking keep to herself for once, forcing herself into the conversation she wasn’t a part of. It wouldn’t be Rio if she didn’t cause some sort of chaos though, would it?

Agatha was turning towards the dark haired woman with a scowl, unintentionally pulling Wanda forward with her as her hands were still being gripped. “I don’t… Was it something I did?”

“Look, Wanda, it’s not-” Agatha was turning back around before she could berate Rio, a pang of sadness running through her chest. She wanted to reprimand Rio more than she wanted to comfort her own wife. How fucked up was that? What would people think of her when they heard about this ? What had she ever fucking cared?

“Did I… Did I say something wrong? The redhead was clearly reaching for something . Trying to find anything that would serve as an explanation. Tears ran down her cheeks, though she seemed unbothered by them as she searched Agatha’s eyes. Attempting to find a trace of something.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, it’s just-” There was nothing Agatha could say that would reassure the woman. Well, besides maybe telling her it was a shitty joke and that she was still desperately in love with her. But that would be a lie. And despite knowing she was killing the woman, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to her as well. Maybe just a little, but not about love. No, they both had too much trauma to lie about that .

“Was it the pillows? I know you didn’t love them, but we can return them if, if-” Wanda’s voice was more apprehensive than she had heard in a long time, an undertone of pleading coloring her soft crying. She hated those pillows so much. They weren’t ugly, per se, but Wanda had picked them out just under a month ago. They were a deep green, matching the accent wall on the far side of the living room, square and so grossly homely.

“It wasn’t the fucking pillows, will you just listen -” Agatha squeezed her hands as if that would make Wanda shut up. It was better than strangling her.

“Jesus fuck, I can see why you’re over her. Won’t shut the fuck up for five seconds.” Rio scoffed and neither of them had to turn around to know she was rolling her eyes. Typical.

“I- what?” Wanda shook her head. She was momentarily shocked, as if she couldn’t believe the words Rio had said. Agatha couldn’t blame her. They were downright mean, even for Rio.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s not even supposed to be here right now, I was waiting for-” Instead of acknowledging the younger woman like Agatha knew she wanted, she turned her full attention back to Wanda, smoothing her thumbs over the veins in her hands. She deliberately avoided her wedding ring, praying Wanda wouldn’t notice. Knew she was too out of it to.

“You invited me over.” Rio interjected, a sly grin gracing her features. Almost if she knew she had won. In a way, she had. She had convinced Agatha enough to be in the position they were in. She hated the effect the woman had on her. Hated it so much she couldn’t get enough of it. Except for right now.

“Rio! Would you stop interjecting so I can talk to my wife .” Agatha knew those were fighting words, knew how much more tense it would make the room. How pissed off it would make Rio. How sad it would make Wanda. How conflicted it would make herself. She didn’t care, though.

“Was it-” Wanda cut herself off with a soft sob, as if it pained her to ever think about what she would say next. She inhaled shakily once as she looked into Agatha’s eyes, her own fleeting between the two, as if she were steeling herself for what she was going to say. “Is it the baby? Does he- do they remind you of Nic-”

It was her own gasp cutting Wanda off, one she thinks is coupled with a noise similar from Rio. And Wanda was looking between them, some mix of fear and pure sadness so evident on her face it almost hurt. She hated that look. She had once sworn she’d never see the woman so dejected again. Yet… Yet here they are, with the redhead looking more broken than she had when Pietro had died.

“It’s not… It’s not the baby, not Nic-” Agatha dropped one of the woman’s hands in favor of cupping her cheek, her own eyes becoming misty at the accusation. Neither of them talked about him. The few times they had, had been filled with so much trust and tears. Wanda had been so worried when bringing up her desire for children that Agatha would up and leave her then and there. It had been quite the opposite whenever it had been brought up until the last year and a half. Wanda had wanted to be so sure that Agatha would be okay.

“Don’t ever talk about him like that. You don’t fucking deserve to talk about him at all, you fucking bitch!” Rio was looming over her so quickly that she was sure the woman had levitated, casting a dark shadow over the women. Her pointer finger jabbed at the redhead’s chest, fire blazing in her eyes.

“Hey! You don’t fucking talk to her like that!” Agatha stood as a physical boundary between the two women. She knew Wanda wouldn’t do anything. Far too docile and timid to actually be of any threat, Rio however… Rio was a ball of bottled up emotions waiting to explode and now was not the time and Wanda was not the person. She was so fed up with her loveless marriage that she never thought she’d be defending the woman again, but Rio had absolutely no right to take it out on her.

“Oh, please. You don’t even like her! Who fucking cares how I talk to her?” Rio rolled her eyes with another scoff, clearly fed up. Agatha had told her so much about their relationship that it was entirely ridiculous that she would even care. If anything, she expected the older woman to be on her side.

“You don’t get to disrespect my wife just because we’re getting divorced!” Agatha knew they were fighting words, knew they would twist the knife just a little more. There was no reason for Rio to be awful.

“Please stop.” Wanda muttered pathetically behind her hands in a sad attempt at hiding her tears, body hunched over as the two fought. They didn’t pay her any attention, too caught up in their own world.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, oh my god.” Rio laughed. Straight up laughed in Agatha’s face, her voice low and dark in a stark contrast to the yelling just moments earlier. It sent shivers down her spine.

“Me? I’m the pathetic one?” And Agatha was the one scoffing now. Because who was Rio to call her pathetic? Yes, she may have been cheating on her wife, but Rio was nowhere near perfect either. Death incarnated, as she used to say.

“Yes!” Rio cried.

“Please enlighten me, Rio. How am I pathetic?” Agatha gestured to the short amount of space between them, in a ‘the floor is yours’ motion. She almost wished she had popcorn for the theatrics of what she could only imagine the woman would say.

“You’re defending your lousy ass wife, who you don’t even love by the way, considering you seemed to have forgotten that part!” Rio threw her arm out wildly, just barely missing Wanda’s head with her erratic movement. Had Wanda not been bent over as much as she could, she would have hit her. She knew Rio would’ve taken delight in that.

“As if you’re any better.” Agatha crossed her arms, some mix of negative emotions swirling inside her.

“Oh, really? Well, do enlighten me, Agatha, how am I not any better?” And if their back and forth couldn’t get any worse, Rio was scoffing again, the air hanging thickly with the threat baited in her words.

“You can’t get over anything! You’re so fucking caught up in the past, you had to stoop down to my level to-” Rio stalked forward, jabbing her finger into the older woman’s chest, reminiscent of the way she had to the younger’s just minutes earlier. Agatha couldn’t go far, standing still as she leaned back.

“ENOUGH!” Wanda choked out through her tears, loud enough to stop the bickering between the two women but not quite yelling. No, her throat was constricting too much for that. Whether that was from crying or nausea based on the slight grey hue to her face, Agatha was unsure. Either way, it reminded her where she was, yelling at her lover while her wife sobbed to herself on the couch. God, she was so fucked up. She’d live.

“Wanda…” Agatha dropped back to her knees, one hand cupping the woman’s knee, the other hovering just inches away from her cheek. She didn’t know how her touch would comfort her, if her touch would comfort her. It had for years been something Wanda went out of her way to receive and she went out of her way to give. But now… now Wanda looked like a terrified little kitten, shaking and small, acting braver than she was.

“Please don’t… Please don’t touch me.” Wanda’s voice trembled just as much as her hands did as she looked away, pushing the woman’s hand off of her knee. Agatha retracted it as if she had been burned. In a way, she had. She was the one rejecting Wanda, not the other way around.

“Wanda, c’mon sugar, let’s talk this through.” Agatha attempted to grab one of her fleeting hands. Longed to pull it closer to her and kiss it, convince her it’d be okay. Despite them both knowing it’d be a lie.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go… Gonna go.” Wanda mumbled softly as she stood, an eerily blank look in her eyes as she wrapped her cardigan more securely around herself, roughly wiping at her nose with her crumpled tissue. The sight made Agatha’s heart clench as she laid her hand where the redhead was just sitting, watching in silence as she waddled towards the garage door, reaching for her car keys with a soft cry.

“Your jacket.” Agatha made a move to get up as the younger woman opened the door to the garage, her body hiccuping with hardly contained sobs. She didn’t make it past the couch before the door had closed, though, sudden sadness washing over her as Wanda clearly made sure the door didn’t slam as she closed it, knowing how it shook the house.

Agatha stared for a long while before the car had pulled out of the driveway, not bothering to move as she knew Rio stood watching her, unknowing of where the redhead would go. She could feel her heart blackening, becoming even darker at how she had ruined the woman’s life.

“Agatha-”

“Not now, Rio.” Agatha muttered, not bothering to look at the woman. She turned away as a bony hand wrapped around her shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood for Rio’s pity. Her own arms wrapped around her middle, her right hand coming up to roll her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. She was anxious and she didn’t even know why. Perhaps it was Rio’s looming presence behind her, the atmosphere of the place where she and Wanda had once shared so much love now dark and dim.

“You’re the one who wanted to divorce her! Don’t ‘not now’ me.” Rio picked the stack of papers up from the coffee table, shoving them in the brunette’s face as if she needed a reminder of what had just happened. Her eyes lit up in anger, meeting the raven haired woman in rage.

“I said not now, Rio.” Agatha bit out, shoving the papers out of her face with a slight snarl.

“Y’know what? Fuck this.” Rio threw the papers on the coffee table, breezing through the falling sheets towards the door. It was like a scene straight out of a movie with the amount of chaos the stack had caused, flurrying around Rio in a cacophony of noise, almost veiling the woman with how fast she was out of the house. The sounds didn’t stop with the slam of the front door. And despite the papers settling into silence, it washed over everything, leaving the house still.

And so Agatha was alone. Again.

#jane's fics #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #rio vidal #wagatha #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness #agathario #agatha x rio #pregnant wanda #this is so sad

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zeroseuniverse · 3 days ago

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Ready To Love

Word Count: 931 Summry: She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them." Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things." Pairing: Kun X fem Reader

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She was not built for chaos. Her life was meticulously organized—calendars color-coded, deadlines met weeks in advance, and every meal planned down to the last calorie. Disruptions were unacceptable.

So when her best friend called her in a panic, she should have known better than to pick up.

“___, please, I swear it’s just for a week,” Her friend pleaded. The desperation in her voice was evident, but she was already shaking her head, even though she couldn’t see her.

“ I have meetings, deadlines, I can’t—”

“Nari loves you! And I have no one else. My mom’s out of town, my cousin bailed, and if I cancel this work trip, my boss will actually fire me.”

She hesitated. The thought of caring for a toddler—a whole human being—for an entire week made her stomach clench. But then she heard a soft giggle in the background, followed by Nari’s tiny voice:

“Auntie ___?”

Damn it.

She sighed. “One week. That’s it.”

Her friend exhaled in relief. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you so much.”

Yeah, she did.

She learned very quickly that a two-year-old had no respect for schedules, efficiency, or the concept of personal space.

Nari was adorable, sure—pudgy cheeks, big eyes, and an alarming ability to wrap her around her tiny fingers—but she was also a menace. She refused to sit still, turned meal times into a war zone, and somehow managed to make her feel like the most incompetent adult in the world.

By the end of the first day, she was exhausted. Her apartment was covered in toys (which she definitely didn’t own before), her inbox was overflowing, and her neatly structured life had been completely derailed.

Then came the final straw.

She was struggling to get Nari into her stroller for a quick grocery run when she heard a low chuckle from behind.

"Need some help?"

She turned and found herself face-to-face with her neighbor—Kun.

Of course it had to be him.

Kun had always been... annoyingly perfect. The kind of guy who helped elderly neighbors carry their groceries, always remembered birthdays, and had a seemingly endless supply of patience. He was also ridiculously charming—the worst kind of person.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to wrestle Nari’s arm through the stroller straps.

Kun raised an eyebrow, then knelt in front of Nari. “Hey, kiddo. You wanna help me out here?”

To her absolute betrayal, Nari grinned and reached for him immediately. Kun fastened her in the stroller in three seconds flat.

She scowled. “How—?”

He smirked. “Oldest of four. I’ve been through this before.”

Of course.

By the third day, she had no choice but to accept defeat.

After another sleepless night—Nari hated sleeping, apparently—she found herself standing outside Kun’s apartment, knocking hesitantly.

He opened the door, eyebrows raised. “Wow. You look—”

“Finish that sentence and die,” she muttered.

He grinned. “How can I help?”

She exhaled. “I need a break. Just an hour.”

Kun didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “I like kids.”

“You like everything.”

He laughed. “Not everything. But I do like helping you.”

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at that.

Kun took Nari to the park, giving her an hour of blissful, uninterrupted silence. When he brought her back, she was laughing—giggling—and he looked so effortlessly at ease with her that something in her chest ached.

"She’s an angel," Kun said fondly.

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "She’s a demon.”

He just chuckled. "You’re just bad with kids."

She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them."

Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things."

By now, Kun had somehow wormed his way into her daily routine. He showed up with breakfast, played with Nari when she had meetings, and made her laugh more than she had in years.

It was getting dangerous.

She wasn't looking for romance. She barely had time for herself, let alone a relationship. But Kun made it so easy.

And the worst part? She liked it.

That night, after Nari had fallen asleep, she found herself sitting beside him on her couch, both nursing cups of tea.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “Why are you like this?”

Kun tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Nice. Patient. Helpful. Just... good.”

He smiled softly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because life isn’t like that.”

Kun studied her for a moment. “I think you just haven’t let yourself slow down enough to see the good parts.”

She swallowed. No one had ever said something like that to her before.

And the scariest part?

She wasn't sure he was wrong.

When her friend arrived to pick up Nari, she expected to feel relieved.

Instead, her chest felt... hollow.

She handed Nari over, ruffling her hair as she clung to her one last time.

“Bye-bye, Auntie!” she giggled.

She smiled. “Bye, munchkin.”

As they left, she turned to Kun, suddenly feeling awkward. Without Nari around, there was no reason for him to keep showing up. No excuse to let him into her life.

But he lingered.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What now?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Kun’s gaze was steady. “I do.”

Her heart pounded. “Oh?”

“Dinner,” he said simply. “With me.”

Her lips parted. “With or without a toddler?”

He smirked. “Let’s start with just us.”

And for once in her life, she let the schedule go.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Kun’s smile was slow, warm, and full of something terrifyingly real.

Maybe—just maybe—this was a kind of chaos she could learn to love.

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birdmenmanga · 3 months ago

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#just thinking thoughts...#stray kaihen thoughts #I'm right though. the prince is an indentured servant #'you owe me for this so now you have to work x years'#and also like. we still don't have any evidence that the people in the castle are like. getting paid money LOL #sure their needs are being provided but it's giving company town big time #it just doesn't feel like they can spend money outside of the castle to buy things. you feel me

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astonmartinii · 4 months ago

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little lion | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem young mum!reader

journalists go digging in max's past and think they've found f1's next big scandal - but they underestimate just how protective max is of his little lion

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1tea

liked by user5, user6 and 23,095 others

f1tea: this is y/n y/ln the supposed baby momma of max verstappen. not much is known about her, with her only going back to work recently as a therapist in monaco.

her and max had their baby, a girl, back when they were 17 in 2015. max has never been seen in public with the child and has never publicly claimed her either.

will we see her in the paddock now all the news is out?

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user7: holy shit this is insane

user8: this poor girl doesn't deserve this

user9: literally, either max is a present father and is just private or he doesn't have anything to do with them? but it coming out like this is probably stressful regardless

user10: also by my calculations, the baby will be nearly nine, so probably has a concept of fame and celebrity and if they haven't gone to a race it's probably for a reason

user11: i mean the way people are already talking about them proves them right already

user12: ted kravitz telling it like it is 🤲

user13: no he's not ??? he basically went on broadcast to call y/n a slut and try and say that he was 'always right about max because this proves he is reckless'

user14: once again, this child is eight and could understand some of this if they see it

user15: also the incidents ted is bringing up happened EIGHT YEARS AGO stop bringing a child into your weird agenda

user16: if he's not careful red bull will ban sky from their media run again

user17: i found her instagram and max, alex and daniel all follow her so it's defo legit

user18: i also found it but it's private :(

user19: i tried to follow but got blocked :/

user20: do you people have rocks for brains if it's private it means we're not meant to find it, if she's not spoken about it in eight years that means IT'S NOT OUR BUSINESS

user21: someone tell max to get a DNA test asap, gold diggers will do anything for money and fame

user22: what fame? she's got like 400 followers and has never spoken about max to any media outlet

user23: the way you people jump to gold digging allegations kill me

user24: also if max is the dead beat that sky are trying to make him out to be and y/n is a gold digger then why haven't we seen some child support claims and whatnot

user25: you have no shame posting this, if she didn't want to be found she doesn't want to be found

user26: f1 vultures at their best

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,389,774 others

maxverstappen1: i've seen a lot of journalists and 'professionals' trying to point score with the 'big revelation' of my daughter. sydney is the love of my life and for someone who grew up in the public eye i thought it would be best to keep my daughter away from the circus. not that i owe it to any of you people, but i see syd as much as i possibly can and i didn't want to post her or bring her to the paddock until she could make that choice for herself. y/n is a wonderful mother and is the exact support system i would want for my daughter.

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user27: MAX IS A GIRL DAD?

user28: congratulations media and internet you forced him to expose his kid

user29: the way they probably see this as a victory annoys me to my core

yourusername: you're an amazing father max, don't let them tell you anything else. sydney loves you and that's all that matters.

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n, i miss you both - see you this weekend!

yourusername: we look forward to it! x

user30: she didn't say that she loves him too so they're defo not together

user31: will you people ever learn to read the room?

user32: oh wow so max does see his daughter - watch sky still run with the deadbeat angle

user33: they were so shameless about his SLEEP SCHEDULE i cannot imagine the shit crofty is going to throw at him over this

danielricciardo: i'm sorry for how this has all come out max but i'm so glad i can publicly express my love for my god daughter!

maxverstappen1: this might mean that you can give her all of your gifts in person (if she wants to come) lord knows i can never fit them back in my suitcase

user34: you literally have a private jet?

maxverstappen1: you underestimate how seriously daniel takes being a god parent

danielricciardo: i think i'm singlehandedly keeping jellycat in business tbf

yourusername: and ikea, i have to buy a new shelving unit every couple of weeks daniel

danielricciardo: SYD IS MY BEST FRIEND LEAVE ME ALONE

user35: drop 💥 the 💥 daniel 💥 and 💥 sydney 💥 photos 💥 now 💥

user36: actually don't i don't think my baby fever can take it

alexalbon: you're an amazing father max and sydney is the coolest girl in the world!

maxverstappen1: thank you alex 😊

alexalbon: also if you ever convince y/n to come to races PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make her bake me some of her iconic brownies

yourusername: alex you know i can just bake you some and send them to you via max

alexalbon: please 😫😫😫

yourusername: no worries albono, you're a growing boy you need the nutrients

maxverstappen1: they're brownies

alexalbon: i need y/n's brownies to deal with YOU

maxverstappen1: ok maybe this is why i don't want to introduce you all :(

yourusername: don't worry maxie i'll make you some goodies to go

maxverstappen1: thank you :)

user37: she makes him to-go goodies 🥹

yourusername

liked by feranandoalo_oficial, danielricciardo and 319,506 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm not very happy that i have to make this statement like this because people couldn't respect the boundaries max and i have set as parents but alas: max is the loveliest man in the world and the best father sydney could ask for. he has a very busy life but he still makes as much time as possible for syd and she loves him very much. max has been in the spotlight from a very young age and did not want that pressure and spectacle on his own daughter. we may have never been together, but max has never been the monster you're trying to make him out to be. please respect my daughter's privacy. thank you.

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user41: once again, this is a very cute family but god this is a horrible way to find out about them :(

user42: i hope they know so so many of us are supporting them

danielricciardo: syd has grown so much i actually feel kind of sick

yourusername: i was a mess on her first day of school :(

danielricciardo: oh i can imagine ... max never told us but i'm sure he was his usual stoic self

yourusername: he tried, but we did both cry over a carton of ice cream for the whole morning

maxverstappen1: IT WAS A VERY EMOTIONAL MORNING

yourusername: it really was 🥺

user43: i'm sorry but why do two europeans have a daughter called SYDNEY?

maxverstappen1: she's nearly eight... i made my f1 debut in australia eight years ago... i can't hold your hand any more than that

user44: LMAOOOOOOO

danielricciardo: i am HURT i thought she was named after her beloved god father?

yourusername: if that was the case do you not think we would've gone for the more obvious option of DANIELLE???

maxverstappen1: also you were just an acquaintance and childhood crush at that point daniel

yourusername: omg childhood crush on daniel SNAP

danielricciardo: i'm not that old???

maxverstappen1: we have such good taste

yourusername: we REALLY do

user44: so like they're defo flirting right?

user45: ugh you people have no class (i hope so)

landonorris: i'm so sorry for you guys BUT THANK GOD IT WAS SO HARD TO KEEP HER A SECRET

maxverstappen1: i mean y/n and i kept her a secret for like nearly eight years 🤨

yourusername: i also 100% caught your slip ups you're just lucky there was never any rumour at those times

landonorris: I AM A BLABBERMOUTH PLEASE BE PROUD OF ME

maxverstappen1: fine?

yourusername: i'd be more proud but everyone else also kept the secret sooooo ???

alexalbon

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 894,503 others

tagged: lilymunhe, yourusername

alexalbon: with permission i am now allowed to post my bestest friend in the world!

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user46: god has heard my prayers and gave me my alex and sydney content

user47: i'd say what a random pairing but i think my brain just blocked out alex at red bull as a trauma response

alexalbon: lord knows i only got through being locked in the sim with y/n's brownies and hugs from syd

yourusername: syd asked for her favourite uncle to score more points so we can get ice cream again

alexalbon: i'll fix the damn williams myself

yourusername: hurry up she's getting impatient (i have no clue where she gets that from)

maxverstappen1: I AM NOT IMPATIENT I JUST LIKE THINGS BEING DONE IN A PROMPT MANNER

yourusername: is that what you tell the engineers?

maxverstappen1: ... something along those lines

yourusername: are you going to get more community service?

maxverstappen1: i don't think there were any cameras ???

user48: so max doesn't believe in not swearing around kids... how bad is it with sydney?

maxverstappen1: i am on my BEST behaviour for her

alexalbon: she's like a little sailor

maxverstappen1: in my defence she's much cuter when she swears than me

charles_leclerc: is this why she called me a wanker when i didn't bring leo to the house?

yourusername: i fear that has alex albon written all over it

alexalbon: whoops!

lilymunhe: we need another play date asap !! he goes so mushy i can get him to do all the cute dates i wanna do

yourusername: is that why i got given a badly painted mug?

alexalbon: hey! i worked very hard on that :(

maxverstappen1: i thought sydney painted it alex

alexalbon: can you guys stop ganging up on me :(((((

yourusername: no!

maxverstappen1: 😘

user49: feeling some ... tension here

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,450,987 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: guess who wanted to come see dad at work?

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user51: oh she really is max verstappen's daughter with that cold middle finger to ted kravitz

user52: are they going to make an eight year old do community service as well?

yourusername: great now she's attached to the engineers

maxverstappen1: oh noooooooooo how will we ever cope??? maybe we should all go to every race ???

yourusername: that would be very convenient, wouldn't it?

maxverstappen1: i can see you smiling while typing, i don't think you're as opposed as you say you are

yourusername: you got me! i like to see syd happy :(

maxverstappen1: and me...?

yourusername: and you, i guess 😚

user53: so like are we just going to ignore all of this ^^ and the second picture?

user54: it would be nice that through all the shit they've had thrown at them that they got together through it

danielricciardo: he's been waiting long enough

maxverstappen1: DANIEL???

danielricciardo: what ???

user55: daniel, thank you for your service

user56: i mean we've seen them at one race and it's crazy to think they're not together

alexalbon: why did i have to track my bestie down at the hotel? you verstappens too good for the williams garage?

yourusername: we were busy !!!

alexalbon: franco is distraught

francocolapinto: i am?

alexalbon: yes!!!!

francocolapinto: i am!

maxverstappen1: stop yapping for the love of god i was getting my shit together - something YOU told me to do

alexalbon: fine... i guess

user57: so like that's confirmation right?

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 2,349,855 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm still reporting all you journalists to the ethics boards but i guess something good did come out of all of this

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user58: FUCK SKY SPORTS BUT THANK THE LORD THIS IS SO CUTE

user59: a family that flips off ted kravitz together, stays together!

user60: y/n's dirty look at him will forever be legendary

maxverstappen1: i've always loved you, and i've loved playing the long game with you and prioritising syd !! here's to the rest of our lives xx

yourusername: i've always loved you too but as convoluted as it has been i think this has been the best way to be - all love to syd first

maxverstappen1: but now we can cut the shit and do all the cute things without it having to be a 'play date'

yourusername: i love you dummy, but your cats are mine now

maxverstappen1: they've always been yours, just like me

user61: okay fuck you guys this is too fucking cute

user62: no because i'm too chronically lonely to read this this morning

landonorris: FINALLY, I COULDN'T KEEP ANOTHER SECRET FOR MUCH LONGER

danielricciardo: booooooo, we've all kept this secret you're not special

landonorris: i thought i was the only one who max told about his feelings? like literally on the podium when he saw y/n and syd watching?

oscarpiastri: i think you just can't read people lando, even i knew max liked y/n and i've only seen them interact THIS WEEKEND

alexalbon: we've all known forever lando, you're not getting sympathy for keeping the secret for 12 hours

user63: the grid being so protective of the lil family is so cute

user64: i read that george got the GDPA to sign a petition that the media couldn't ask about syd before max was ready to start the conversation himself

user65: also by the sounds of it, they've been rooting for this relationship just as long as max and y/n

maxverstappen1: i'm so lucky to have two amazing girls in my life, i'll love you forever and as long as you'll have me

yourusername: now i have you, i'm never letting you go

maxverstappen1: right back at you

yourusername: you're the bestest father ever and the love of my life, never let anyone tell you anything else my gentle boy

maxverstappen1: i love you both more than anything ever, you're my guardian angel and syd is my favourite little lion

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN BIRTHDAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE !!!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen social media au

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fairy-angel222 · 10 months ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃? 𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ⋆⭒˚.⋆༄

—gojo satoru x fem! reader

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ your husband’s already given you two children, one more wouldn’t hurt right?

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ cw: fluff, smut, breeding, praise, petnames, squirting, impregnation, dirty talk

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ a/n: requested by anon, i loved writing this so much

Eight years.

You and Gojo had been married for eight years. Having met each other in high school, him being the one to get down on one knee the second you both had finished college. He knew you were the one for him ages ago.

That you were his from the moment he met you.

Some would say that you two were living the dream life, despite how young you both were. Gojo never hiding the fact that he was willing to spoil you day by night.

He loved you more than anything. And he never failed to show that through the many acts of affection. His favorite one being buried deep inside you as he whispered the sweet nothings into your ear.

The sex drive of your marriage was high, that was a fact. It was how you ended up with two children in the first place. Two girls who looked exactly like their dad, not even bothering to try with your genes. They had his complexion, his hair, his overly beautiful eyes. They had everything of his.

When you had your first daughter, most people in your life assumed she was an accident. Assumed that Gojo had simply “forgotten” to pull out.

They didn’t know how noisy you’d gotten that night, holding onto your husband tightly as you begged him to fill you up. Begged him to put a baby in you. You wanted to feel all of him.

Your second child was all him. Him begging to give you another one. To pump you nice and full with one more baby. And who were you to say no? You two were building a family and you loved it.

Four and two.

Those were your daughters’ ages, beautiful girls who looked almost identical to each other, obviously. You liked to call them and Gojo triplets. And it made his heart swell knowing that they were something you had both created. Together. Even though they clearly had a favorite already.

His daughters clung to him every second that he was around them. Refusing to let daddy go as your youngest sat in his lap with an adorable grin. Giggling softly as her big sister tied scrunchies into the soft bed of white hair.

“Mommy look! Daddy’s all pretty now,” she clapped, clearly proud of her work as she pulled lightly at the short ponytails.

You watched Gojo grumble under his breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked up at your standing frame. Cheeks tinted red when you laughed softly. “He is baby, he’s very pretty now. Looks just like you two.” Leaning down to peck both their cheeks with a smile of your own.

You yelped softly as you were pulled down, sat on the other side of your husband’s lap as he smirked. “You know who’s just as perfect as you two? Your mommy.”

Your older daughter hummed, cuddling into your lap with a nod. “You are very pretty mommy. Wanna look like you when i get big.”

You couldn’t find the words. As much as you knew that was impossible, it warmed your heart to the core. Especially when your other daughter nodded in agreement, fitting herself on you beside her sister. “You’re very very pretty mommy.”

“Thanks my babies.” You smiled warmly, an arm wrapped around each of them as Gojo wrapped one around you. “Now, you owe me a little kiss too.” He pouted. You giggled, pressing your lips to his in a short kiss before pulling away.

Neither of you wanting to hear the exaggerated ewww that escaped from your daughters’ mouths when you kissed for even a second too long.

You liked to think that you got lucky to have such sweet children. The kind that makes others actually want a child of their own.

—

You loved your life. Everyone could see that. But it had been way too long since you and Gojo were able to spend some alone time together.

It wasn’t your idea, it was his. And you couldn’t not give in when you allowed yourself to think about it. A weekend all to yourselves with complete privacy. A chance for you both to relax.

It was Friday, and you rung the doorbell to your dear friend Nanami’s house, a childish grin on Gojo’s face as he waited for the door to swing open.

Nanami raised a brow upon seeing you two, a cup of coffee in his hand as if you’d interrupted his peaceful morning.

“Uncle Kentooo!!” Two high pitched voices rung out. Little legs running to hug the blond man by his own. Nanami’s eyes widened momentarily, steadying the mug in his hand away from the two latching on to him.

A small smile gracing his face when they grinned up at him. “Well hello you two.”

Gojo grabbed the cup from his friend when your daughters started making upsie signals with their hands. Nanami picking them both up on either side of his torso, turning sharply on his heel as he asked them about their week.

“If that isn’t the sweetest thing I don’t know what is.” You giggled, Gojo’s hand on the small of your back as you brought in two pink princess bags. “So.. Kento-”

“We need a favor.” Gojo was quick to cut to the chase, Nanami not bothering to even watch him as he let small hands play in his hair. His emotions far from the bored expression on his face.

“I’ll watch them.”

“Thank you so much Kento. My parents will be coming for them tonight.” You smiled, the man only nodding with a hidden shrug. “You’re just lucky they’re nothing like him.” Pointing his head in the direction of the man sat next to you.

“Hey!” Gojo gasped in faux offense, “I’m awesome thank you very much.”

Nanami only scoffed. And you and Gojo stood up to give your girls a final hug and kiss to their foreheads. “We’ll see you on Sunday okay my darlings? Grandma and grandpa will come for you later yeah? Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”

“Uh huh, bye mommy, bye daddy!” They sung together, something else that they tended to do from time to time.

As you walked out of Nanami’s house, ready to go home and pack a few clothes, your head tilted. Confusion evident on your face when you looked up at Gojo. “Doesn’t he have work today?”

“Yeah but he adores them. He’d skip work everyday if he had to.”

It was true, Nanami was one of your biggest supports. He was always willing to take them off your hands for even an hour. He hated to admit it but he loved them like they were his own. He truly thought of himself as an uncle.

You found it adorable how serious he was until he was sure you left. Allowing himself to give into their tea parties and makeovers. He was one of the people you trusted most.

You knew that your daughters were in good hands for the day, especially since Nobara and Yuji would be there. Their inner children coming out whenever they were around your daughters.

—

Gojo had taken you to a hot spring resort nearly two hours away. One of the best that he could find.

You were in awe the second you stepped into the place. Never getting used to the amount of money Gojo was willing to spend on you.

The room was huge, and to say it was gorgeous was an understatement. But it paled in comparison to the view. The large steaming pools which were adorned with large marble sloped rocks and tall trees. The whole resort enclosed within mountains which seemed to touch the clouds. The sun setting behind beds of luscious green as the sky glimmered pink and orange.

It was perfect.

Snd the first thing you did after settling in was head into the heated waters. Breathing out contented sigh as you sunk neck down. Allowing the warmth to calm every last one of your nerves. The tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulder slowing subsiding as you leaned your head back onto one of the large rocks.

“This is amazing.” You smiled, blinking your eyes open to look at your husband, who kept complaining that the area he was in was too hot. Not allowing himself to go any further than his legs until you pulled him into a hug.

Letting the water flow in place at your shoulders. Ignoring the over dramatic faces that your husband was making at the “heat”, simply resting your head in his neck as you relaxed in each other’s arms.

—

The tv blared ever so slightly as you cuddled into Gojo’s side. The coolness of the room unable to beat the warmth that still stuck to your skin. You had just got off a call with the girls. They were at their grandparents’ house. No doubt having way too much dessert before bed. Though they’d most likely get to stay up late watching cartoons.

“You know..” Gojo started, his fingers trailing soft shapes on your skin, “We should have another one.”

You lifted your head off of his chest, “I don’t think they’ll sell us drinks right now love.”

“I’m not talking about drinks.” Your stomach fluttered when Gojo turned you over, his knee in between your thigh as his lips ghosted over your ear. “I’m talking about putting another baby in you.” Allowing it to brush over your clothed clit.

Your lips parted in a whimper when he kissed down your neck. Swiftly pulling off your shirt to kiss at your chest, taking each of your nipples into his mouth while he fondled the other. Your hips bucking up into him when he began grinding his hips slowly into you.

You shivered when his lips touched your belly. Peppering it with small kisses as he hummed against your skin. “Let me make your belly swell.”

You moaned softly, nodding your head eagerly. “P-please.”

“Hmm, gonna give me a third one sweet girl? Gonna make us a pretty family of five?” He husked, kisses getting more aggressive as he trailed back up. His cock twitching at the little whimpers that you failed to contain when you made a noise of agreement.

“Mhm, ‘m gonna give you another one. Wanna give you another one.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, looking for that final bit of confirmation before his lips smashed onto yours. The kiss hard and needy as he worked on removing the rest of your clothes. His fingers dipping down between your folds with a groan. “You’re so soaked f’ me pretty.”

He ran his hand up your slit teasingly, rubbing tiny circles onto your clit making you whine out. “Toruu, no teasing.”

He chuckled, his thick cock prodding at your entrance as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands instinctively draping around his shoulders so that he was pressed into you. A loud moan sounding through the room as he sank into you.

You let a small mewl escape your lips with every movement of his hips. His thrusts gradually increasing in pace till he was hammering into you. Pulling his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into you.

Bright blue eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier as your back arched off the bed. Nails digging into the skin of his back as you were rocked back and forth. Your husband’s thick cock stretching you out so deliciously as it repeatedly kissed your sweet spot. The position allowing him so deep inside you that he bulged lightly in your stomach.

“Toru, nngh— so good. Ahh.” You were getting noisy. Your cute babbles mixing with the loud echoes of his skin hitting yours. The mere force of his loving making it twice as loud.

You could only moan shakily as you pulled him even closer. Drool covered lips parting in sweet cries when your nails scratched down his back. “O-oh fuck. Ahhh.”

“Taking me so well. My pretty little wifey, can’t wait to see you carrying my child again. Fuck,” He grunted, squelching noises growing louder as your sticky pussy leaked onto your thighs and his. The whole roomed filled with your lewd sounds of pleasure as you both fell into each other. “Gonna fill you up real good baby. Stuff that messy pussy so full of my cum and watch that belly swell.”

Your legs trembled at his words, your hold on him tightening as the rhythmic slapping clouded your brain. Your vision blurring with tears as your stomach tightened. Every nerve along your walls being set on fire as you were fucked like you’d disappear in any moment.

Gojo’s sinking to elbows at the sides of your head for you to cry into his broad chest when you felt yourself nearing your high. “Toruu— so good Toruu, so g-good.”

“Hmm you’re close f’me,” he groaned, your pussy holding him snug as your body shook. “Shit, gonna make you a mama of three. Gonna give it to ya so deep— f-fuckk. Look at me when you cum.” He whispered lowly, your glassy eyes peeling open to blink up at him dumbly.

“Nngh— ‘m, a-ahhh, Toru ‘m so c-close.” You couldn’t think. Your brain unable to process anything but him and the way his cock was fucking into you so good. Your thoughts blanking out as you were engulfed by an indescribable pleasure. Mouth opened in a final cry as you fell off the edge.

“That’s it. Cum f’ me baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock. There you go— just like that.” His thrusts never slowed as a high pitched scream bubbled in your throat. Your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him as you let go. Sopping pussy gushing all over him just the way he liked it. His thrusts never losing their pace as you squirted with a continuous string of moans.

Your husband’s thrusts got sloppy. Head falling into the crook of your neck as he unknowingly slowed down. His thrusts hard and deep as he moaned into your delicate skin. Finding it adorable how your little mewls began to match his pace.

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Could pump her full of my cum every fucking day. Shit— here it comes baby.” His slow thrusts synced with his words, lips capturing yours hungrily as he buried himself deep inside you. Tip sat at your cervix’s entrance when his cock twitched. Spurts after spurts of the the thick substance flooding your insides with heat.

Gojo pulled away from you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to each other’s. You stayed clung to him like a koala to a tree. Tiredly smiling up at him when he pecked your nose. “If we keep having children every two years we’ll end up with fifty grandkids.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “So, what are we gonna name her?”

“Her?”

“We only have girls so far baby, i don’t think it’s in my blood to have a boy.” He joked, both of you laughing as you thought of any possible truth of his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a boy,” You sighed softly, using your finger to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell over his eyes. “I think he’d look just like you.”

Gojo’s hand rested on your belly, using his thumb to rub over it softly. “I’d love either, only cause i’d know that i made them with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you so much.”

“ And I love you more than you could ever imagine sweet girl.”

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru fluff

7K notes · View notes

lilacgaby · 5 months ago

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title: gala gone wrong?

pairing: prohero!bakugo x prohero!reader

katsuki was suddenly forced to confront his feelings for you, when you were put in the date auction for charity.

the heroes gala was something katsuki wouldn't look forward to normally. but this year he had a plan. he was going to ask you to be his date.

...originally. he chickened out last minute and owed kirishima 1000 dollars.

he was surprised to see you come alone though, opting to sit next to him which made him fist pump internally. you were a very successful hero who also doubled as a model. for what reason you ask?

none really, you just did it cause days off of hero work were boring. walking runways, topping charts, and beating villains with style was just another day for you.

you looked especially gorgeous this evening though, working with another up and coming designer to design a dress that perfectly complimented everything from your skin color, to you hair, to even references of your quirk.

katsuki suddenly felt underdressed in his suit, but to be fair every hero who was a man was dressed in a suit. except for monoma.

the auction portion of the gala started before the awards were to be given out.

the awards were pretty pointless in katsuki's mind. the only ones that mattered to him were the final rankings of popularity, efficiency, and the overall category.

"you nervous?" you whispered, talking over the first few lower ranked hero's to be auctioned for a date.

"nah, i know i won at least in popularity." he said, trying to keep eye contact with you without stuttering.

"hmm. what if i won? huh?"

"shut up."

she put a hand over her mouth, when suddenly-

"and the last date to be auctioned, a night with the top ranked woman hero [name]!"

"huh? oh that's me!" you said, collecting your dress as you walked to the stage, leaving katsuki blinking in confusion to himself.

you were in this? i mean it shouldn't have been a surprise, you had a rabidly loyal fan base, even since U-A. but what was he supposed to do? bid?

"the bid starts at.. 15,000 dollars." you rolled your eyes and gestured for people to go higher, and they did.

"17,000!"

"20,000!"

"30,000"

numbers were being shouted from all around the room, with the highest bids barely even being able to be tracked. the bids ranged from new heroes who definetly could not afford you, to old men who you really wish couldn't afford you.

you covered your mouth as you let a laugh escape you, this was hilarious to you, you'd have to do this more often.

after a bunch of back and forth, one booming voice cut all the others off.

"500,000 dollars. cash." to your surprise it wasn't an old creep. grand, also known as shindo yo, had suddenly bid. just as they were about to call off the auction and announce shindo the winner,

katsuki's internal dialogue won and 'forced' him to bid too. "750,000 dollars." he declared.

he doesn't think he'd have done it had it been any other idiot who wanted a chance with you, but that loser had to go.

"sold! to dynamite! we've broken a record here folks, 750,000 for the charity of --"

the words faded into the background as he looked up at you, smiling and walking over to him. he felt is heart speed up, his hands drown in sweat, his hair puff out.

"if you wanted to take me out you could've just asked katsuki." you joked, taking him by the hand as you pulled him back to the table towards the back you two were settled in on.

"whatever, now we have an excuse to."

"don't tell me you like me or something katsuki? how embarrassing."

"i told you shut it."

she laughed and settled down, poking him on the cheek. "its okay if you do, i like you quite a lot dynamite."

he flushed red at that, tiny explosions being let out from his hands inadvertently because of how caught off guard he was.

she held his hand under the table, before looking straight ahead to the ceremonies going on in front of them. he smiled and leaned back.

the awards were pretty boring when compared to the view of you, so until they had gotten to the cool stuff he just eyed you.. daydreaming about the life you'll have together someday.

he focused again when the top three heroes in popularity, efficiency, and overall were to be announced by all might.

at the end of the night, not only did he leave with a number one trophy with 'popular vote!' embedded in its side and an all-might signature at the bottom,

he also left with a lipstick mark from you right on his cheek, some flowers, and a small note that read 'see you tomorrow :)'.

#sorry i watched white chicks again and now its everyone's problem #lilac speaks꧂#bakugo drabble #bakugo oneshot #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #mha x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

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starfruitii · 4 days ago

Text

cws & notes. fluff. post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader, + special guest appearances from the seijoh 4 because i love them. 800+ words.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Oikawa squints at you, then at Iwaizumi, then back at you again. “Something's different.”

“First time we see you in almost a year, and you're already acting weird.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, pulling out two chairs for you both to sit down. “Nothing's different.”

“Glad to see leaving Japan hasn't changed you, Oikawa.” You chime in, sliding into your seat. It was a nice little cafe, not too crowded, but not empty either. The table Oikawa had chosen was tucked away in the back, right by a window overlooking the street, giving you a perfect opportunity to watch the people walking by.

“No.... no, something is definitely off.” Oikawa looks over to the other two occupied seats, searching for some sort of agreement from his companions. “You two see it, don't you? Something has definitely changed since our last meet-up.”

“Our last meet-up was last September. I think it would be weirder if we hadn't changed a little since then,” Matsukawa laughs, waving him off. “I mean, look at Makki's haircut.”

Hanamaki looks thoughtful for a moment, nodding at Oikawa. “Nah, I think he's got a point. You two seem a little—Wait, what do you mean? What's wrong with my hair, asshole?”

“Hey, I didn't say it was bad! Just... different.”

“So, different in a good way?”

“Uh... sure, if that's what you want to go with.”

“You—”

“This isn't about Makki's hair!” Oikawa interrupts, pointing an accusing finger towards Iwaizumi. He looks up from the menu in his hands, glaring back at Oikawa. “It's about them. Something happened between you two, didn't it?”

“Maybe they got engaged.” Hanamaki suggests.

“They have to be dating before they get engaged.” Matsukawa pauses, realization on his face. “Wait, is that it? Did you guys actually start dating? Do I owe Makki ¥2000?”

“You're all imagining things.” Iwaizumi says bluntly. “Now, are we going to order or not?”

Oikawa's suspicion doesn't waver, but the mention of food distracts him enough to begrudgingly let the topic go. He waves over a waitress, ordering drinks and snacks for the whole table. Once she is gone, the conversation shifts to Matsukawa's work, then Hanamaki's lack of work, then everything Oikawa has been up to in Argentina.

Throughout the visit, you sit back and relax, chiming in with your own anecdotes and comments every now and then. For the most part, you keep quiet, content with listening to your friends as they catch up. Ever since graduation, when you all went your separate ways, reunions with all five of you were few and far between, so you were just happy to be together once again.

You barely notice the time passing at all, until Oikawa is five-minutes deep into a rant about his new team. Iwaizumi looks at his watch and balks, standing up from his seat.

“It's already five.” He says, cutting off Oikawa's voice. “I gotta get going soon.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“Already?” Matsukawa groans.

“Both of you?” Hanamaki asks, raising an eyebrow. “You have plans you'd like to share?”

“He's my ride home.” You shrug, gathering up your things. “It was great seeing you guys though. We'll have to hang out again when you're all free.”

After your goodbyes, the two of you leave the cafe and walk the short distance to Iwaizumi's car. Once you're alone, you settle into a comfortable silence, accompanied by the quiet sounds of the city in the background. Without your friends' scrutinizing gaze, Iwaizumi walks a little closer to you, until your shoulders lightly brush. The slight touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you make no effort to move away.

“So, Oikawa seems to think something is up.” You say casually, watching Iwaizumi frown at the mention of his friend.

“He can think whatever he wants to think.” He rolls his eyes, holding open the side door of his car. “We don't owe him anything.”

“We do have to tell them at some point, don't we?” You continue, as you climbed into the passenger seat. “You of all people should know he's not going to shut up about it until we do.”

“Of course I know that.” Iwaizumi grumbled, as soon as he was sat in his own seat.

“So...?”

“So what?” He adjusts his mirrors, glancing over at you.

“Is he right?” There's a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's clear you find it much more amusing than he does. You lean closer, whispering the words like they're a grand secret. “Is something different, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head a little, but can't hide the small smirk on his face. His hand reaches out to grasp your chin, tilting your face upwards so he can press a slow, sweet kiss to your lips. As he leans back, there's a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I don't know. Has something changed?”

You laugh lightly, savouring the taste of his lips on your own. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

#🎧 : now playing !#odysseyofsaia #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff

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blvdheart · 6 months ago

Text

LIKE A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!

CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut

WC: 1.8k

NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay

MASTERLINK

You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.

Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!

But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.

Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

Oh.

You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.

Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.

That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.

And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck. Last one.

He likes me!!!

Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.

You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.

The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.

“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“

“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”

“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.

Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.

“You’re shitting me!”

“What?”

“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”

And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.

The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.

“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.

“And ya couldn’t back at home?”

“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”

“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”

It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it is.”

A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.

You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.

Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?

Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.”

Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.

You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.

The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?

Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”

You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.

Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.

The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.

“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”

“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.

“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”

“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”

His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”

“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.

All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.

He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.

It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.

Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.

“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.

“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.

“That’s it. Like that.”

And after that, there were more spontaneous times.

You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.

“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.

Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.

You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.

You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.

If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.

“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.

But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.

Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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luveline · 3 months ago

Note

missing spencer x stripper reader these days

—Spencer visits the strip club unannounced. fem, 1.1k

Spencer can’t be clinical about it forever. You’re a sex worker. He doesn’t care, but he can’t ignore it when you look like that.

You’re standing by the bar slouched backward, your abdomen bent forward, an unsexy position if you were to ask a patron, but weirdly endearing from where Spencer’s standing. Your heels are completely clear. He can see your toes, their painted nails, and the bandaid on the back of your foot where you twist. “Can I have another water, please?” you ask.

The lingerie is blue. Spencer loves blue. Three pieces, a bra, underwear, and a suspender belt holding stockings the colour of your skin. He knows this is just work, that he’s not being a good friend thinking about how pretty you really look, but it’s not just pretty. His ears start burning the longer he sees it. You shift your weight from one foot to another and your thighs looks soft.

You take your new glass of water and press yourself flush to the wall. Then you level your gaze and see Spencer watching you, expression jumping from happy to confused to knowing.

“Hey, Spencer,” you call, hard to hear over the music pounding and the sound of men jeering at to the left near the big stage. “Are you here to see me, or is it a pleasure trip?”

He clears his throat as discreetly as possible and makes his way to you. The heels make you taller, your legs longer, and the lingerie reveals simple things he doesn’t often think about, the shapes of your breasts, the curve of your sides, your hips leading down… Oh, god, he thinks, feeling sorrier than sorry.

“You okay?”

“I came to ask you that.”

You frown, perturbed. “Why?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. I just wanted to make sure everyone was still being nice to you.”

Your frown softens but doesn’t fade. “It’s broken.”

See, he’d believe you, but you used to wear this Tiffany necklace with a soft bevelled heart around your neck until recently, when you told Spencer you lost it, and showed him your second tell. When you’re in pain, your hands tend to strain from you, pushed out and fingers curling. When you lie, you smile too soon, and your eyes catch on the freckles on his nose.

He pulls open his messenger back and sorts through papers for the black and silver mobile. It’s his emergency phone; should something ever happen to the first, he still wants to be able to contact the outside world. “Here,” he says, offering it to you.

You’re still. “I can’t take your phone.”

“It’s a spare. A burner phone? I bought it for emergencies, and this could be one.”

“Spencer, I can’t…”

“Please, will you? I’ll get another one.”

You need a phone. Maybe ten years ago you could get by without one, but you need a phone to arrange bills, talk to your landlord, your boss, your doctor, whatever. Being without one in an emergency could mean bad things.

You take it, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not very fast,” he says. “There’s a prepaid sim in there for now, but I can get you a real one.”

“I can do that. Thank you, Spencer. I’ll pay you back.”

��I don’t want you to pay me back,” he says with a real smile.

“I could pay you back… with a dance?” You lean across to tap his elbow. “I saw you looking at me, Spencer Reid. We can go somewhere private.”

Suddenly, it’s like the air in the room is being sucked out, leaving him, and you, and your beautiful bare skin alone in a tight space.

He raises the arm you’ve tapped to tap you back. “You’re beautiful,” he says, sure you can see the blood in his cheeks, “but I don’t need anything from you. I want you to have the phone because I know you walk home by yourself most nights, it’s not so you owe me. You don’t owe me anything.”

He shouldn’t have added that last part. He’s worried you’ll be angry with him for saying something that might embarrass you, but you give him a softer smile. Real, and nothing like the playful fire you’d held when you were offering a dance. “You sure?” you ask quietly.

“I thought we were friends?”

“I think so too.”

“Can I ask you something unrelated?”

You squint with mock suspicion. “That depends.”

“Are you cold?”

You laugh, grabbing his arm as you do to steady yourself on your precarious footwear. “I’m surprised I haven’t got hypothermia,” you say, face tipping gently to your shoulder. “But I don’t think I’d make any money in a hoodie.”

Spencer doesn’t see how that could be true. You're one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, if not the prettiest, and even if you were in a hoodie that would still leave your legs to make money. He’s sure they could. He’s also sure that he shouldn’t say that aloud, instead digging through his bag for the real thing he’d brought you. “Here,” he says, handing you a chocolate chip and strawberry protein bar, “for your rumbling stomach.”

Those few nights you’d stayed with him, you’d been a little shy and more afraid, probably worried he’d hurt you while you were vulnerable, though he had no intention, but you’d start to let pieces of you through the cracks. You like dancing but not men. You like fresh fruit, the smell of a new car, and buying new clothes. Stripping isn’t, like, easy, you’d said once, sitting cross-legged on his couch with a bowl of soup and that awful shiner, It probably looks easy. People think that the hardest part is being pretty, but it’s not.

What’s the hardest part? he’d asked, sympathetic and curious simultaneously. The hardest part statistically would be the high rates of femicide and assault.

It makes you so hungry. It’s like constantly working out every night.

“That’s for me?” you ask.

“So you can survive your workout.”

“Spencer, I think you’re the most romantic guy I’ve ever met.”

He presses the protein bar in the same hand as the phone, ducking his head just a bit, just to see you clearly. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

You seem to think this is the funniest thing he could’ve said, pressing your face briefly, heart-achingly to his shoulder, before pulling away to beam at him. “Don’t be sorry. You’re the best guy ever. And I had this investment banker come in a few days ago who gave me a hundred dollars to listen to him talk about his new kitten.”

“I’m surprised I beat that.”

You spread a hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t worry about competition, Dr. Reid.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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sailorsoons · 6 days ago

Text

Hello, Darling (c.hs)

Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you.

Word Count: 21,558

Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

Type: Smut, Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places.

Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you.

❀ A/N: This was an original request fill for my Haliween event on my first blog for @eoieopda. Thank you for letting me write you 20k+ of this Vernon :)

A/N 2: I AM NOT WRITING A PART 2 TO THIS ON PURPOSE. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE AMBIGUOUS.

Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader.

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Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week.

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades.

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact.

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again.

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.”

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?”

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.”

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball.

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination.

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?”

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him.

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time.

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends.

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point.

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own.

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest.

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder.

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him.

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it.

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.”

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?”

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot.

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical.

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.”

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!”

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression.

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close.

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable.

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even.

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is.

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life.

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.”

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you.

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world.

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet.

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile.

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing.

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless.

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing.

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in.

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework.

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.”

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.”

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.”

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.”

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.”

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.”

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.”

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.”

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.”

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway.

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does.

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.”

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job.

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.”

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address.

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted.

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house.

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes.

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land.

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs.

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house.

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside.

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here.

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?”

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?”

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That’s gonna get real tiring.”

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?”

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.”

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!”

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.”

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke.

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.”

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into.

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?”

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd.

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go.

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall.

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot.

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight.

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell.

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.”

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder.

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home.

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.”

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?”

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?”

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?”

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.”

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.”

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.”

“No.”

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.”

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.”

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.”

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.”

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.”

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.”

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.”

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him.

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.”

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly.

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.”

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart.

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner.

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts.

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame.

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing.

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety.

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.”

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist.

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and-

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm.

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line.

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go.

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching.

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with?

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine.

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously.

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first.

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor.

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt.

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you.

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter.

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking?

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.”

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings.

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus.

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!”

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone.

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?”

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.”

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?”

“Nah, why?”

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?”

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.”

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.”

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.”

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else.

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing. Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment.

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving.

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep.

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes.

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?”

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving.

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you.

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?”

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?”

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him.

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?”

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?”

“I hate chemistry.”

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?”

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.”

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.”

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him.

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart.

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you.

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together.

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time.

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.”

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken.

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it.

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to.

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?”

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat.

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.”

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Sure.”

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down.

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here.

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest.

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice.

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting.

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh.

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there.

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor.

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.”

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.”

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.”

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.”

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.”

“I’m not like that.”

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive.

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.”

“No way?”

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall.

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.”

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.”

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.”

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.”

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling.

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?”

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.”

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.”

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch.

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair.

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him.

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon.

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected.

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party.

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire.

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers.

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky.

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish.

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus.

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior.

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week.

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really.

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him.

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?”

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.”

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?”

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back.

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him.

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him.

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead.

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically.

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.”

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat.

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers.

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap.

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go.

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them.

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia.

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized.

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once.

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you.

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire.

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe.

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.”

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.”

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.”

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket.

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.”

“I notice everything about you.”

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see.

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide.

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper.

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.”

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?”

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly.

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit.

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?”

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks.

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?”

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?”

“I know, right?”

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing.

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could.

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure.

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen.

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style..

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him.

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray.

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.”

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.”

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.”

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.”

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.”

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.”

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.”

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat.

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.”

“Kind of an insane coincidence.”

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.”

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.”

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.”

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?”

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.”

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.”

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go.

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time.

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad?

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.”

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.”

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.”

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back.

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing.

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon.

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter.

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer.

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?”

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.”

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.”

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.”

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know.

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.”

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?”

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?”

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by ?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass.

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.”

“Different how.”

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…”

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hims, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.”

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide.

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually.

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth.

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours.

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him.

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?”

“Actually, no?”

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!”

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.”

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface.

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.”

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar.

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated.

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home.

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.”

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.”

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body.

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble.

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly.

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.”

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body.

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you.

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.”

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression.

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?”

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently.

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?”

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him.

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.”

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping.

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough.

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses.

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back.

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.”

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra.

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.”

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous.

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further.

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath.

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?”

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?”

“You know what I mean.”

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.”

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor.

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs.

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring.

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?”

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.”

“Umm.”

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly.

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.”

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.”

“Should I stop?”

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.”

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully.

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.”

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you.

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.”

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier.

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?”

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.”

“Didn’t think you liked me.”

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress.

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets.

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth.

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.”

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders.

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully.

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly.

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.”

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.”

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them.

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.”

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.”

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.”

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it.

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat.

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most.

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest.

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you.

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.”

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on.

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills.

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.”

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.”

“I want more. I can take more.”

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?”

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in.

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch.

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.”

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.”

“Greedy thing.”

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going.

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max.

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.”

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace.

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning.

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree.

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out.

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care.

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.”

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch.

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again.

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently.

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of.

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.”

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once.

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt.

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin.

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween.

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt.

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet.

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming.

Your heart hammers.

Your hands shake.

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there.

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt.

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed.

“Why is there salt all over my floor?”

“Cross it.”

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.”

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly.

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door.

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt.

And then he laughs.

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.”

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