#((so why not 'haunted mansion' too?))

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Shout out to my mother for being a fucking liar because despite claiming to care about my autism, she instantly starts yelling at me as soon as I enter a meltdown.

[imaginedisish]

Anything (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Something is seriously wrong with me...I cannot stop writing for this man. Started this one last night after hearing him say "princess" in "The Wolverine" (2013). This is another nightmare fic, but I promise it's different! Heavily inspired by "anything" by Adrianne Lenker. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Your summer affair with Logan is, in fact, not just a summer affair.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!! MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), (some?)fingering, cockwarming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nightmares, fem!reader/afab!reader, canon-typical violence, mutant!reader (unspecified abilities), feelings, angst, cursing, probably grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 3,213 short for me

It started one summer night—under the stars. You had slipped out the window of your room in the mansion. You were sitting with your legs crossed, perched precariously on the old, shingled roof. You never got much sleep—you simply couldn’t—even though you knew the mansion was safe. Staying awake remained a solace, a comfort. It meant fewer nightmares; it meant you couldn’t be haunted by the hurt of your past.

Staring up at the stars beat staring up at your ceiling, and so you had made it a habit to crawl out of your window and sit on the roof. 

Until that one summer night, when Logan found you out there.

He shoved open his window and stuck his head outside. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” You smiled, turning your head to face him. You shrugged your shoulders, giggling at the concern on his face. He mocked you, shrugging his own shoulders in imitation. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile and the way he made you laugh. You and Logan had been growing closer, spending more time together. He was looking out for you—constantly and protectively. It made you feel good knowing that someone cared so deeply. 

“Why don’t you come over here?” You called over to him, patting the spot next to you. He shook his head and ducked back inside. You quickly assumed he didn’t feel like being with you, your heart sinking down into your stomach. You wanted him to come out, to sit with you. Maybe you could’ve—

But then there he was, pushing the window as far open as it could possibly go, struggling to climb out. It wasn’t too much of a scuffle over to you, your rooms being right next to one another, but he made a big deal of the trek nonetheless. He huffed for dramatic effect as he sat down next to you. 

“This is so incredibly dangerous,” he had said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. 

You gasped. “Logan Howlett cares about safety?” You clasped your hand over your mouth for flare. “My safety?” 

He smiled, but there was something serious in his face. “I do, actually.” You tried not to notice as he inched closer to you, your shoulders brushing together. “What are you doing out here, princess?” He asked again. 

You smirked at the familiar nickname. “I don’t really like sleeping,” you muttered. 

Logan nodded. He understood better than anyone else. “I know…” He trailed off, looking up at the sky. “But why sit out here?”

“It’s quiet,” you whispered. “And it’s beautiful. Better than being in there, just sitting in bed.” 

He nodded again. “It is beautiful.” You turned your head back to Logan as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. He was looking at you. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Did you have a dream tonight?”

You shook your head from side to side. “Didn’t give myself the chance to yet, and I don’t plan on doing so.” You sighed, looking down at your legs, still crossed like a pretzel in front of you. “Wish we didn’t have to deal with this, you know?”  

Logan slowly brought his arm around your shoulder, as if he was waiting for you to shove him away. He had touched you before, but not quite like this. It was always in passing—always short and fleeting. But this? This was intentional. You leaned into his touch and let your head fall to his shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with it alone,” he offered, his lips faintly brushing at your temple. 

You tilted up to look at him, his face inches away from yours. He pulled you in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You’re not alone,” he repeated. 

And then his lips were on yours. You kissed on the roof. You let him tug you into his window, into his bed. He tasted you that night. You spread your legs and let him inside. And then you slept. You slept without waking up in a cold sweat. You slept without reliving your past. And for the first time in a long time, so did he. 

And now it's become a habit. He opens his window for you, and you climb across the roof and inside. Every night. You haven’t slept alone since the beginning of the summer, and it’s August now. There’s no label on whatever it is you two are. But you know it’s serious—the way he asks every night if you can stay, even though he knows you’ve already made up your mind and that you aren’t going anywhere. 

But tonight is different. Logan was sent on a day trip with some of the students, while you were tasked with staying at the school to run through training exercises. It’s the end of the day now—10 PM. You’re exhausted as you let your back crash down on the mattress. 

Thanks to Logan, your body has become accustomed to sleeping. You can feel it calling you, feel your tiredness creeping in at the corner of your eyes. You try to fight the feeling, but it’s no use. Your eyes flutter open and closed, resisting until you can’t anymore, and you fall asleep. 

There’s a piercing ringing in your ears. Your chest is heaving violently. You’re strapped down to a chair, a needle inches away from your forearm. Maybe it’s Stryker. Maybe it’s some other mutant hunter or government agent ready to do their worst. You thrash around in the chair, yanking at the restraints to no avail.

You choke out a sob, throwing your head back in agony. Logan is all you can think about. What if he’s in danger? What if you never see him again? What if this is it?

Just as the needle breaks skin, the piercing ringing starts up again, and everything goes black. 

You force yourself to sit up, cold sweat drenching every inch and curve of your body. You look over to the clock on your nightstand: 12:37 AM. You had only been asleep for two hours. You shut your eyes, letting your head bump into the headboard behind you. You take deep, slow breaths, trying to lower your heart rate, silently reminding yourself that it was all just a dream. 

You’re not exactly sure what brought the nightmare on, but you know you aren’t going back to sleep. You crawl out of bed and into the darkness of your room, carefully walking to your window and shoving it as far open as it can possibly go. You climb out and sit on the still-hot roof to look at the stars. 

The twinkling balls of heat shine above you. It hits you then that even stars must die. They have all that energy, all that beauty, and then they burn out. You swallow at the thought, tears burning behind your sinuses. 

You don’t want to look over at Logan’s room—don’t want to see the window closed. The trip was to some aquarium down the shore in Jersey. You know he’s likely not home yet, and for the first time since all of this started, you’re worried about bothering him. You don’t want to force him to deal with your—

And then you finally see it. His window is open, the curtains billowing around inside. You let out a tight breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders going slack at the thought of crawling into his bed. 

You scale the roof carefully, bending down as you climb inside his room. You get tangled up in the curtains, and you shove them aside to reveal Logan in his bed, eyes shut. You swallow harshly at the sight—his chest bare and his hair a mess. Sometimes you’ll stay up and watch him sleep, just to see this, just to know what he looks like when it's late and no one else is around. 

But then he’s twitching. He grunts, his chest heaving rapidly. You sprint across the room to his side, practically tripping over nothing in the rush of it all. He’s fisting the sheets, mumbling nonsense, violently turning left and right. You can see the pain in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his muscles flex. Your heart drops deep into the pit of your stomach. 

“Logan,” you call out, bringing a hand to his shoulder. You know he’s sensitive—know he can bring the claws out at any second—so you take care with your movements. “Logan,” you call again, louder this time. You grip his shoulder harder, shaking him, trying to force him out of the nightmare. 

You think you hear your name slip from his lips. “I’m right here,” you soothe, bringing your other hand to his abdomen, rubbing softly as you continue to shake his shoulder. He’s a sweating mess, his body cold and hot at the same time. You want to take his pain away, to make all of this better. “Come on,” you beg. “Wake up.”

And then he’s sitting up, his eyes open wide. You step back, giving him the space he needs as he comes to. His claws shoot out, ready to strike. He turns his head, his eyes frantically searching the room until he finds you. 

He quickly retracts his claws, and you watch as his shoulders relax. His chest still rises and falls rapidly with every breath he takes. 

“Logan,” you whisper, stepping closer to him again. “Are you—” 

He cuts you off, pawing at you, grabbing your sides, and pulling you into his bed. He’s on top of you in an instant, caging you in, his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly. 

“Can you stay?” It’s a ritual, the way he asks. He knows your answer—always does. But he asks anyway. You know he wants to hear it from your lips, wants to know that you want this, too. 

Your heart clenches in your chest. “Yes,” you sigh as one of his hands comes to rest underneath your shirt, climbing slowly up your stomach. “But Logan—”

He swallows your protests with a kiss, and you moan into his mouth. It’s hurried, rushed, like he’ll die if he can't have you right away. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Need you now. Talk after,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again before you can say a word. 

You understood—you needed him too. Needed to feel him inside you, under your skin, everywhere. 

His hand slinks up to your bare chest; you had forgotten you weren’t wearing a bra, just one of Logan’s old t-shirts and your panties. His touch is rough; needy. He squeezes your tits, his fingertips brushing your nipples, drawing tight circles. You moan his name, already squirming underneath him. 

Logan’s erection grinds against your core. He’s just wearing his boxers—nothing else—but it’s still too much. You need him bare before you, deep inside you. You lift your hips up to meet his, your arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer.

He takes the hint, his hand gliding back down your body to the hem of your panties. He reaches down farther, teasing your folds through the fabric. “Fuck, so fucking wet already,” he mumbles, slipping your panties to the side so that he can feel you. You shudder under his touch, his fingers spreading your slickness up to your clit. He strokes teasingly, the ache between your thighs growing with every flick and circle. 

It feels like heaven, but you need him closer. “Logan,” you whimper, fisting the sheets underneath you. “Want you, please.” It’s a desperate prayer and not just a request. 

Logan suddenly pulls his hand away and you whine at the loss of contact. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes reassuringly, sitting up and pushing his boxers down. You’ll never get tired of the sight of his cock springing free against his stomach. His hands are back on your hips in an instant, squeezing lightly before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and yanking them down. 

He's back on top of you, lowering down onto one forearm as his other hand pulls your shirt above your tits. “Wanna see you, pretty girl,” he groans, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before his forehead meets yours.

His hand comes down to the base of his cock, guiding his tip to your entrance, to where you need him most. His chest heaves in time with yours, your nipples brushing against him. He stays there for a moment, not moving. His eyes search your face, as if to confirm you’re real—that you’re truly here with him. You can see the need in his eyes. It’s not lust anymore—not just about sex. It’s never been about that. 

It has always meant more. 

Logan suddenly thrusts into you, bottoming out down to the hilt, stretching you open. You can feel him throb inside you. He groans at your ear. “So goddamn tight.” He doesn’t pull back out, his hips still, his cock buried deep inside you. You need him to move, need to feel his cock rub against your walls. You try to grind down on him, but he doesn’t let you. His hand latches onto your hip, keeping you in place. 

“Lo,” you whine. 

“Love when you call me that, sweetheart,” he growls, his hips still stuck in place. “Just wanna feel you like this for a minute. Don’t move.” 

It’s all too much. You need more, need him to fuck into you. Logan frees his hold on your hip, his hand trailing down between your bodies. He finds your clit, drawing achingly slow circles there. It’s nowhere near enough, but the temporary relief feels so good. 

“Always want you this close,” he murmurs, his hips finally starting to move, slowly but surely. You arch your back at the feeling. “Feels so good, so fucking good.” 

He’s taking his time, committing how you feel around his cock to his memory. He’s filling you up, taking in every inch you have to give him. You’re still adjusting to his size, his cock working you open with every thrust. His fingertips swirl around your clit, adding more pressure to the sensitive bud. You’re already close, already putty in his hands. 

Your walls flutter around him, drawing him in, deeper and deeper. 

“Should’ve just brought you in here when I got home,” he husks between starving kisses. “Shouldn’t have waited.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m here now,” you coo, your nails scratching at his back as he pounds into you, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“D-don’t know what I’d do without you,” he stutters, his voice suddenly shaky. He’s still fucking into you relentlessly, pumping in and out. “F-fucking need you all the time, princess.” His words and that nickname light a spark at the base of your spine. You can feel yourself melting, ready to come undone. 

“So close,” you choke out in between thrusts. 

You clamp down on him. “That’s it,” Logan whispers, his cock rutting into you, his fingers still circling your clit. He’s working you through it, taking care of you, making you feel good. “Come on my cock, pretty girl. Wanna feel it.” 

You can’t help but do as he says—that spark at the base of your spine spreading like wildfire. You’re moaning his name, walls squeezing around him, stars blurring your vision as your orgasm floods through you. But Logan isn’t slowing down, his cock pounding into you and his fingers stroking your clit long after you’ve finished. 

“Love feeling you come,” he mutters, biting your lip in between kisses. “Wanna feel you come again, princess.” 

You’re already beyond fucked out, overstimulated, and far too sensitive, but his words goad you along. “’S’so much, Lo,” you whimper, tripping over your sentence as he splits you apart, sinks into you, hitting your g-spot with every pump. 

“Know you can take it,” he praises, pressing a kiss just under your ear, then to your pulse point, and back up to your lips. “Know you can come again for me, can’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer. “A-anything for you.” You mean it, and he knows you do.

“Fuck,” he curses, his thrusts growing sloppier as the words fall from your lips. “F-fucking beautiful, perfect.” 

You look to where you two are connected—where you become one—and watch as his cock disappears into you. It’s too much, the sight, the feeling of him fucking into you, rubbing your clit, chasing your orgasm. It’s all it takes to have you falling apart underneath him, coming on his cock again. 

After a few soothing strokes to your clit, his nails trail up your body, his fingertips exploring your bare skin. Logan curses under his breath, your name on his lips. You know he’s close behind—almost there. 

“Don’t pull out,” you whisper in his ear, his cock pulsing inside you. “Stay.” 

That’s all the permission he needs to fill you up, his hips stuttering as he comes. “F-fuck,” he groans, his hand slipping under your back to hike you up, to bury himself as deep as possible, to hold you flush against him as he finishes inside you. 

He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, but he doesn’t pull out. He grabs your thigh and hoists your leg around his waist as he shifts you onto your side. You’re next to him now, your chests still pressed together.

“Lemme stay inside you,” he mumbles. 

You nod against him. “Okay.” You squeeze your leg around his waist, taking him deeper. 

The room is silent, your shared shallow breaths the only sound. The curtains dance in the breeze from the still-open window. Your eyes flutter shut, and Logan’s lips press a kiss to each of them. 

After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Don’t ever wanna spend a night without you.”

Your eyes flutter back open, and you’re met with Logan’s soft, sleepy face. His hair is a mess. You can’t help but smile at the intimacy—the domesticity. “You don’t have to,” you say back. 

“I mean it,” his voice is steady, firm, the sleepiness replaced suddenly with something more serious. “Need you with me all the time.”

“I know,” you say. And then he’s drawing stars across your back. It makes you think of the night this all started. The night everything changed. “I’ll always stay. Always.” You blink and an unexpected tear slips down your cheek. You swallow harshly, unprepared for the vulnerability of the moment. 

Logan immediately notices and brings his thumb up to your cheek, brushing the tear away. “Just want you. Give anything to make you mine.” 

“I already am,” is all you can manage to say. “Don’t need anything.” 

“Gonna give it to you anyway.” He kisses the spot where he wiped the tear away. 

You start to drift off—his arms around you, his cock still buried inside you—the thought of a forever with Logan replaying in your mind. 

You think he’s asleep, but then you hear his soft husk at your ear. “I love you. Always will.”

“I love you, too.”

[theheadlessgroom]

I guess we all just have to make peace with the fact that the best Haunted Mansion film adaptation we're ever going to get is the Muppets version.

((…yeah? Yeah. I can believe that, sad as it may be!))

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

[thealbatrovss]

ghosts in the leaves // worst wolverine x reader

summary: you’ve been stuck in the void for years, and logan doesn’t even seem to care.

one shot: ANGST, then fluff of course. I love a sadass story with a happy ending. swearing lol. suggestive material. This is my favorite one I’ve written so far. Enjoy!!

word count: 1k+

masterlist

He was too busy drinking to notice your silent pleading.

You and Logan sat against the rocky wall of your hideout base. The rest of the group of forgotten heroes were planning the final showdown with Cassandra in the next room over.

They left the two of you alone, noticing the tension growing more and more intense. Logan tried to protest, but they shut him out. He wouldn’t stop grumbling to himself about it. That, you noted, hadn’t changed about him.

Wade would occasionally poke his head out from behind the wall, hoping the reunited couple would get back together already. He loved jumping into other peoples business, you noticed. He seemed like a troublemaker.

Johnny would’ve really loved this guy.

You still didn’t understand why Logan was refusing to talk to you. He looked like hell, but so did you. Did he even care?

You just wanted to wipe the blood from his suit and the dirt from his face. Tell him about the hell you’ve been through down here. Ask him about the hell he’s been through back home.

But Logan would rather gargle piss than talk to you at all. That, you were beginning to realize.

He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. He only looked at you when he first arrived. That familiar glow returned to him at that moment. You thought you saw the love of your life return to you right then and there, eyes and mouth wide open. But by the time you ran over to him, throwing your arms around his body, tears streaming down your face, he was pushing you off him and opening a bottle of bourbon.

You could see him fighting the urge to open another one. He balanced it on his hand, and spun the bottle on the floor like it was a game. Guess he won by the fake smile on his face as he placed the lukewarm drink to his lips.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or are you just going to keep drinking?”

He picked up another glass after downing the last one, licking his lips. “I don’t talk to ghosts.”

Your stomach dropped, like a stone in a pond. Your lips fell, a weight dragging them down. “Logan-”

His fists balled up, face turning red. “Don’t fucking say my name.” All the venom leaking from his mouth seemed to form a weapon meant for himself, but he kept aiming it straight at you. “Just don't.”

You held your head high. “Why not?”

“Because,” he took a long drink before continuing. “Your voice is drilling into my skull, that’s why. I don’t talk to ghosts and they don’t talk to me.” Logan shifted his body, facing away from you.

You closed your mouth, letting the words die inside. Instead, you watched the leaves fall from beside the open door.

The trees here never changed. They were stuck in a perpetual autumn. It was haunting to look at. You forgot there were other seasons sometimes. You missed the snow in winter. Icicles hanging from the roof of Xavier’s mansion. You missed the spring flowers and that early summer rain. All you had was autumn, and Logan had the rest. He didn’t seem to like any of it at all anymore.

The Logan you once knew and loved, if he saw you alive and well, he’d come running to you, holding you tight, whispering words of comfort.

This Logan though…He was tired. And angry. So angry. Grief radiated off every inch of him. It almost became a superpower on its own. You weren’t a stranger to that power. He kept you at a distance too, back when you first met.

You had the outline of his back memorized like the back of your hand. This was your Logan. He was just jaded now. Years of believing that you were dead and that he had failed not only his friends and family, but you, the most important person in the world to him, had changed him.

Down here, your one goal was to reach him. Well, you had accomplished that. But not in the way you had wished.

“If there’s any ghosts here, it’s you.” You said it without looking at him either. Just watched the leaves fall.

Logan shut his eyes tight, the veins in his neck growing stronger. His jaw loosened, the bourbon missing his mouth and spilling all over. “Fuck!” He cursed himself.

“Did someone wet the bed again?” Wade's red head popped its way into the room. “Jesus, you two look like you fucked with the lights off. Does this place even have lights? And have you made up yet? I’m sick and tired of this meeting and I wanna join in.”

He sure knew how to make an entrance. It was almost amazing how annoying he was. Again, Johnny and him would’ve gotten along. But Cassandra got to him first.

“Turn around and walk back in there before I pop that tomato of a fucking head of yours.” Logan spat, taking another swig.

Wade gasped, putting his gloved hand to his mouth. “I’d let you pop just about anything, Wolverine.” Before he could say anything more intrusive, Blade's hand grabbed his head, pulling him back behind the wall. Wade still kept ranting all the way back into the other room.

“I’m glad you have a friend.” You tried, shifting uncomfortably in your super suit. “I wouldn’t of made it if it wasn’t for my friends down here.”

And the thought of you. You wanted to finish with that.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Seems like he’s your friend.”

He shook his head, leaning against a rocky pillar. He wanted to keep the distance between you and him as far as possible. You were going to keep running towards him anyways.

“As soon as I arrived it was too late.” You started. “They were all dead.” You paused, letting the grief settle in. Logan sat there as still as a ghost. “I was going to find you before you found them. I'm so sorry you had to see them like that.” You let the tears flow this time. “But then the TVA- they got me. Said I killed one of their own a few days prior. Which is bullshit. But they didn’t care, and they sent me here. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since. I'm sorry, Logan.”

It happened as quickly as he drank those bottles. He got up, wobbled a bit as he stood, and walked out the door, crushing autumn leaves under his feet.

The silence he left behind was worse than his venom.

Wade popped his head back in, the other four following as well. “We did it! Operation, Stealing Cassandra’s Wii hidden underneath their bed, is underway!”

“What’s under Cassandra’s bed?” Elektra questioned.

“Oh, all kinds of stuff.” He started counting on his fingers. “Video games, velveeta cheese, a bunch of those for some reason. Cowboy hats, pixie sticks, a signed dvd of The Green Lantern. Truly an evil monster, my god.”

Gambit leaned over to Laura. “Do you think one of my missing cards could be hidden under there?”

Laura ignored him, walking over to you, noticing your wet, red eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Where’s Logan?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Laura.”

Logan’s daughter nodded, squeezing your shoulder before going to look for the shadow of her father.

It was growing dark now. Night was here and all you wanted was to sleep. Maybe you’d wake up in Logan’s arms again and he’d pepper light kisses across your face, taking all those years without him away. Like they never even happened. Like you never lost anything or anyone.

It was still night out when you woke up. Wade's snores were keeping everyone else up, so they moved him outside. You walked by him as he was passed out in a pile of leaves, making your way towards the burning campfire.

Logan sat slumped over the smoke, chin cradled to his chest. You could’ve sworn you saw tears disappearing into the fire. But you didn’t want his dagger like words again, so you turned back around.

And then you heard your name.

It was whispered so softly, like a strong wind. You waited a few more beats, hoping to hear it again. And you did. His voice was strained. Calloused over like he had said your name so many times before that it hurt so bad every time you never said his name back.

But you did this time.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I was just thinking-” His voice was wavering, like he was on a tightrope, wondering when he’d fall off. “I was thinking about your birthday. I’ve missed so many of them.”

Your eyes glazed over, a well of spring water washing away the autumn you still adored. Before you could run to him, he was already there. Strong arms found their way around you. Those lips kissed every inch of your face. It was like returning home again.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He was barely keeping it together. “I thought you were dead. And then I saw you and all I saw was another failure. I’ve failed you. You’ve been trapped here. And I didn't come to save you. All I did was punish you.”

“It’s okay.” You held him tight, but he held you tighter. “You didn’t know. You had to go on thinking everyone you loved was dead. Logan, you didn’t deserve that.”

He held your head, finally meeting your eyes with his own. “I love you.” He rarely said it. But he didn’t have to. You always knew. “And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll be sorry forever.”

“Then I will be too.”

A mix of sorrow and happiness clung to his face. He laughed, as if he was laughing for the first time. “You’re here. You’re not a ghost. I’m not a ghost.”

[cobaltperun]

Genius - All I Want

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Next part

Word count: 3k

-All I want is a place to call my own, to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone-

There was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, though lonely sometimes.

“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, close to midnight.

At least you didn’t have to go on foot.

That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided. You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on.

Why did you suddenly decide to come back? To this small village in Tennessee? You weren’t sure, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe you wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.

The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with your friend. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.

As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it. The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.

~X~

The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.

Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.

Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment, she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.

~X~

You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.

It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents. They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until you started going to school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your motorbike jacket as makeshift cover.

The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.

As you looked at the books you noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children? You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,

~X~

Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer.

“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document.

“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times.

The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”

You nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up with your copies of the documents and the things your were given in hand.

“Oh, and welcome back,” vice principal told you.

She knew your parents, as they were very active in the community while they still lived here. It was the connections they still had that allowed you to make such an abrupt decision and transfer on such a short notice.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you still found it a bit awkward when people much older than you acted friendly toward you because of your parents. You understood, but you also felt they only saw your parents’ child, and not you yourself.

“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor justified your feelings on the matter.

You just chuckled lightly at that. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.

You and your parents had a good relationship, you loved them, they loved you. You often talked to them over the phone, and you texted at least one of them almost daily. You didn’t see much of them though, you wanted independence and they were more than willing to give you a chance to experience life on your own, all the while making sure you knew you could turn to them if you ever needed. And you were more than happy with that.

You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.

Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.

“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.

“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.

You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?”

“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.

“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.

“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.

~X~

The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to the though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.

“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.

���Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from he girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.

It couldn’t be… Right?

Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.

Even if it was, well, you had half a year to come across her again.

Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in school, in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.

“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.

You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.

You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.

“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.

The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”

You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”

You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.

“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, now named Boris, was reading out loud.

The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!”

You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.

~X~

Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes. You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.

“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.

Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four? Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.

She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her dark long hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions. As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.

“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.” She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up at least over a coffee or tea or something.

A/N: Well, here's the start of the next story. Enjoy! Also... Taglist? Yes? No?

[trappednyourheart]

A Haunted Doll's new kid

“A Damian and he's haunted doll”

Instead of Jason having Danny as his childhood doll or haunted doll, how about if Damian got haunted doll Danny?

--------------------------------------------

Where a young Talia Al Ghul stumbled across a very old and abandoned mansion in a middle of nowhere, only tall dark trees and harsh winds accompany her outside of the manor, at her vulnerable worse moments, her team was ambushed by a very cunning new group..took a lot of damaged out of her but she survived and now left wandering on her own, without anyway to contact the league or if she will faced punishment for being defeated, she decided to seek shelter inside the lifeless Manor for the time being, but to her surprise inside the manor it was warm as if no sign of abandonment as if it was alive, only one there was a beautiful baby doll.. something those rich young daughters would play at those times she heard from rich society of children..

Only Alive entity keeping her warm and welcome, so she decided to bring it to the League and no matter how childish this action was..she really can't stop letting go until she give it to her son in his 12 birthday, hoping him to take care of the Precious doll as if a heirloom, which it is😅

-----------------------------------------------

Damian knew what this Doll was, it was his mother's doll. A doll so clean and beautiful, he never understand why there was a doll back then at the league.

It was his first everytime to even see a doll up closed than reading and imagining it at textbooks and examples of words in his former lessons, the Doll was strange.

Unlike The doll, it felt alive, warm and cozy like a child would be clingy to it's parent

He could feel waves of emotions he could distinct knowing the Doll's feelings..

No matter how much time passed after his mother gave it to him, he knows understands why he's mother would take care of this Doll.

No matter how much his family freak out at the constant, chairs spinning too see the baby doll sitting in it, finding in other places standing, moving heads, and little joyful laughter's. (Except for Alfred cause he already accepted the doll,)

------------------------------------

Danny was absolutely not amused, after a whole prank war with the fam, Ellie and the others decided to trap him in this stupid girly baby doll, with a brand label with his name💀 and decided to drop him off to a abandoned version of Vlad's house just for funzies if a few mortals ever get scared, but it kinda backfired now he's been getting good care through this girl now turn woman then her son is now taking care of him, he is grateful he isn't some kind of heirloom..right? But it was fun haunting this so called bats, even sending Grey hairs to his new profound kid caretaker,

----------------------------------------

Danny appearance as a doll is a female baby doll, that is plump and porcelain, he also has a voice box for the original dolls lines, but he sometimes make some unholy and demonic noises to scare one of the bats except for Alfred or Damian, the doll that he was inside in had Caucasian skin, dark hair and deep blue eyes that look like had stars twinkling in it which he approved, his dress was a plump white dress that had green designs in it that was glowing, a small beautiful beach hat and a cute glowing green heels? Shoes ya that's the description and some cute accessories like a golden bracelet which had unique jewels like emerald, ruby, and etc,

when talia found him, the Girls, Ellie had created a very doll like luggage with his necessities, clothes, things for dolls..which he considers are now his own belongings after being used to the routine in the league and how he accept this as a vacay cause he knows CW is watching him😅

[two-white-butterflies]

silver spring | coriolanus snow | part two

Description: Coriolanus loses his family to war.

Pairing: young-president!coriolanus snow/wife!reader

Warning: childbirth, major character death, angst, reader is presumed to have died before the 74th hunger games.

part one

"Coriolanus," you whispered in the dead of night, feeling water trickle down your legs. "Yes?" he raised his eyebrows, eyes adjusting to the light. You were silent for another second. "Yes?" he repeated his question, believing that you were too afraid to speak.

"The child is coming," you groaned - feeling another wave of pain crash towards your hurting body. He bolts awake, not a flash of tiredness seen in his eyes. "Alira! Violet!" he called for your maids, another groan escapes your mouth.

"Coriolanus, calm down." you mumbled, taking the sheets off your lower body. He takes a shuddering breath, regaining his composure. "I am calm," he lied - and all the lights of the mansion began to open.

The first lady is giving birth!

It was his destiny to be haunted by all of the women he's loved before. His mother, Lucy Gray - you...?

The doctors always told him that your pregnancy was critical, that one mistake could cost your life. It was part of the reason why he distanced himself, he doesn't like to feel hurt - he doesn't want to vulnerable again. He sits outside of your shared room, the doctor arrived a few hours ago.

Are you trying to kill me, Lucy Gray!

He remembers screaming for that damned woman, even during the birth of his child - he couldn't help but think about her. He wonders if he stayed, would his life be different? He wasn't meant to be this - he wasn't born to be the President of Panem, he wasn't born to have all these powers - he took them from someone.

What would his life be like without that pain?

Maybe it was a small cottage, the smell of pumpkin soup - and Lucy. No, stop thinking about Lucy Gray. She's dead. You killed her, Corio.

He snaps out of his thoughts when Alira peeks her head through the door. "She wants you, President Snow." the woman informed, opening the door further until the gap was big enough for Coriolanus to enter.

He sees you laying there - eyes dull, and skin pale enough to see through. "Coriolanus," you called out to him, holding out a hand so that he may hold it. "Does it hurt?" he inquired reluctantly, afraid to show you even a tinge of care. "Very," you chuckled - the servants pull out a chair for him to sit. "- a pain worthy for a strong son." you added - forcing a smile.

Coriolanus couldn't help but smile back.

It was the first time that his smile reached his eyes.

"They've pumped me with enough meds to make a tiger sleep. It's making me drowsy," you continued with the conversation, hoping that it would distract you from the brain-shattering pain on your side. "It's good, you won't remember the pain after." he responded.

He could feel your grip tighten on his hand. You stare at him - forehead filled with sweat. He hates you. He tries to remind himself, but it was no use. How could he hate the mother of his child? How could he hate his wife?

"I wish that they just made me sleep - and cut my stomach open." you mumbled, feeling those tiny needles prick your spine. "The pain will go away, you should listen to the doctor." he mumbled, rubbing circles on your fist. "Gods be damned," you muttered - closing your eyes.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, trying to distract you from the pain. The doctor told him that the gap wasn't big enough for the baby to come through. "Green," you answered quickly. "- it's the color of camouflage." you explained, bitting your lower lip.

"Ahh," you hissed, feeling another contraction. "What about you?" you opened your eyes to stare at his. "Orange," he answered. "- and brown." he added and you frowned. "But you always wear black." you observed, as if he was mourning for someone's death.

"It's a professional color," he responded, adjusting his collar. You chuckled through the pain - regretting it after you feel a short pain. "Why do you like those colors?" you inquired and he looked deep into your eyes. "Orange - because it is the color of the sunset. I was swimming when I saw it the first time." he remembered.

"And brown, because?" your eyes narrowed.

"They're the color of your eyes."

After a few minutes, the child began to come out.

You felt slightly nervous - afraid that it wasn't going to be the boy that Coriolanus desired. You postponed knowing about the gender due to this same fear. "Boy," the doctor informed in a monotone voice. "Brutus," you whispered out, reaching for the baby.

"Brutus Snow." you repeated, feeling his warm skin press against yours. "He is precious," Coriolanus whispered in a tone that only you could hear. "He looks just like me," you smiled, pressing a kiss to Brutus' forehead.

He looks at your sleeping form again, eyes shut and snoring. He smiles, rocking Brutus in his arms - close to his chest. He'll never love a woman deeper than the way he's loved Lucy Gray, but he's never loved a woman as deep as he loves you.

Brutus cooes, burrowing deeper into his father's arms.

Coriolanus couldn't wish for anything better.

Sure, there were many things that he regretted in this life - many things that could've turned out better, but if he could return and do it again - he wouldn't to it any different. All his mistakes led him to you - and to Brutus Snow.

Your eyelids flutter, awake and gazing up at him. "Coriolanus," you mumbled - also burrowing close to his chest. "I love you," you confessed and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too," he responds - although the following day he'll deny it and act oblivious. A smile etches your face.

Nothing else matters.

(CORIOLANUS SNOW'S EXECUTION)

"What do you think will happen after this? Our father will be executed but his government will still go on. You're not stopping the wheel. You're not changing anything." Abel intervenes, Brutus presses his palms together. "Whatever happens to father, he had it coming." the older brother replies. "You are delusional if you believe that Katniss is your pawn, she's dangerous." Abel hisses.

Brutus takes a sharp turn, hearing the drums from behind them. "- and you believe that you are safe? All because you love her?" his eyes narrowed in insult. Brutus decides to leave the conversation at that - he steps towards the podium. "Life is a peach, brother. Enjoy it as it is ripe and filled with flesh." Brutus angles his head, before facing the crowd.

"Welcome to the new Panem! Today, all of Panem - of free Panem will watch more than a mere spectacle. We are gathered to watch a historic moment of justice. Today the greatest threat to freedom shall be met with fire and end all wars. This day signifies the end of tyranny and the beginning of a new era."

"Mockingjay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure." Brutus smiles, nodding at Katniss while raising his arms.

Abel looks at his father from below.

A cold man, but a man that loves his family nevertheless. Coriolanus lifts his head to look at his sons for the last time. Katniss draws her bow - an air of suspense permeates through the atmosphere.

Katniss aims her bow but changes the aim at the last minute, hitting President Brutus Snow.

Abel gasps.

He shares a glance with Katniss before the crowd storms in their direction.

Abel manages to get away - to run in another direction while the people rip his father piece by piece. It was the fall of Coriolanus Snow's dynasty, but in the face of that - all members couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

The fire continues to burn.

[kokoch4n3l]

'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

THREE — skeletons in the closet

chapter summary: like your father, manjiro becomes increasingly obsessed with keeping you hidden and begins tightening the already overwhelming security

chapter warnings: dark content 18+, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, loneliness, making out, kissing, rough sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, humiliation, spanking, fantasizing, creampie, no aftercare, cheating, infidelity, dom/sub undertones, slight choking, soft dom!mikey, guided masturbation, fingering(f), praise kink, (slight)voyeurism, aftercare

word count: 9848

masterlist | previous | chapter 4

You spend the month alone. You go to school, come home, eat, do your school work, sleep then do it all again. The routine was something you were used to but perhaps after that night with Manjiro, things kind of changed— unfortunately, it was for the worst. You've been feeling more lonely than usual. Manjiro doesn't come around but ever since then, you noticed the increase in guards outside the mansion in the woods and the hidden ones in the background(perhaps next time you see them, you should tell either your father or Manjiro that the hidden guards weren't so hidden).

The days blur together as you fall into the monotony of your routine. The loneliness you feel has deepened since that night with Manjiro, and his absence weighs heavily on you. You had hoped for more after the tenderness he showed, but instead, you're left with an emptiness that seems to grow with each passing day. You feel like a damn idiot.

Of course, you could call him. You could have but you have too much pride. He was the one who left you in your room after that whole fiasco in the back seat of his car(which you can't stop thinking about actually). After you fell asleep in the backseat with him, he probably carried you up to your room and left without leaving a note or even a text— so why should you call him first?

Days turn into weeks, and the ache of loneliness gnaws at you, a constant reminder of the void Manjiro's absence has left behind. You throw yourself into your schoolwork, trying to drown out the lingering thoughts of that night, but every quiet moment brings them rushing back. You can't shake the memory of his touch, the way he looked at you, the brief tenderness that seemed so out of character for him.

Your pride keeps you from reaching out. You tell yourself that if he wanted to see you, he would have found a way. Yet, every day without a word from him feels like a rejection, a confirmation that maybe you were just a fleeting distraction for him. After all, you were a part of an unnamed transaction between him and his father. Sano Manjiro spent a lot of money funding your father's election and having you out in the open now that your father is president is a risk. If people find out your father was a cheater and had a secret kid it wouldn't look good. 

The days continue to pass in a blur of sameness, each one bleeding into the next as you navigate the familiar corridors of your daily life. The loneliness gnaws at you, a persistent ache that refuses to be ignored. You miss the fleeting moments of connection you shared with Manjiro, the way he made you feel seen and cared for, even if only for a short time. But his absence speaks volumes, and the silence only amplifies your feelings of isolation.

Despite the guards and the watchful eyes that you now notice more keenly, your life remains eerily quiet. The increased security is a constant reminder of the world Manjiro operates in, a world you are only beginning to understand. It's as if his presence lingers in the shadows, a ghost that haunts your every step.

One evening, as you sit in your room, staring blankly at your homework, you find yourself wondering if you should swallow your pride and reach out to him. The thought is both tempting and infuriating. Why should you be the one to make the first move? He was the one who left you hanging, left you to fend for yourself in this lonely existence. Your phone sits on your desk, taunting you with its silence. You pick it up, scrolling through your contacts until you find his name. Your finger hovers over the call button, your heart pounding in your chest. But the fear of rejection, the fear of appearing desperate, holds you back. With a frustrated sigh, you toss the phone aside, resolving once again to bury your feelings and carry on.

That night, sleep eludes you. You toss and turn, your mind replaying every detail of that night with Manjiro. The feel of his hands, the sound of his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it all comes rushing back, refusing to let you rest.

A few more days pass after that and now it's 6 pm. You're sitting in the back seat of a Lexus with your usual driver in the front seat as he drives you back from university. Your tote back sits idle in the center seat and your phone is in your lap as you blast music from your headphones. Your fingers fiddle with the lace at the end of your skirt, head resting against the glass as the car speeds past trees and other things. 

As the car glides through the familiar streets, your thoughts drift back to Manjiro once again, his absence a constant ache in your heart. You find yourself staring out the window, lost in memories of that night, replaying every moment in your mind like a broken record. The music blaring in your headphones does little to drown out the noise of your thoughts, the lyrics blending together in a cacophony of sound. You feel restless, trapped in a cycle of longing and frustration that seems to have no end in sight.

The car turns into the clearing where your large mansion in the woods was located and the gate opens up. There are multiple cars in the front which means your father was here. You fiddle with the Viviene Westwood necklace Manjiro gifted you as your driver parks the car in front of the entrance and pause your music, removing your headphones . "looks like your father is here" Your driver says, looking at you through the rearview mirror

You don't say anything and just nod your head. You suddenly don't feel like seeing or talking to your dad even though you have been waiting for him to come home all month since he became president. Your driver opens the door for you, and you step out of the car, your movements slow unlike how you usually are when your father comes to visit. You practically drag yourself out of the car, tote bag in hand. Your heels click against the concrete as you make your way up the steps to the large front doors. Wearing heels to university would seem unnecessary and stupid to other people but you were a rich kid doing fashion design as a major. Everyone in your department dressed up all pretty even for early morning classes. It was fun. You liked dressing up. Where else are you going to wear all your expensive clothes? You were at home most of the time and wore pyjamas so you always went all out when you'd leave your mansion in the woods. "good afternoon, [y/n], how was school?" One of the maids asks as she opens the front door and takes your tote bag from your hands

"It was fine" You mutter as you step inside and immediately tug off your heels

Sure they were nice to wear but after wearing them for hours straight, your feet would start to hurt. You sigh in relief as your feet touch the cool marble floor, feeling a momentary sense of comfort. The familiar scent of the mansion fills your nostrils—lavender and sandalwood, with a hint of something floral. Despite the opulence surrounding you, the loneliness within feels overwhelming. The quiet hum of activity in the house, with maids bustling and guards stationed discreetly, only accentuates your solitude. "Your father is here with Ms. Kaya and a few other guests in his study" The maid informs

You just nod. You don't feel like going to see him right now. Not him or your stupid step-sister and certainly not whatever guests were here. You drag your feet up the grand staircase, the weight of your loneliness pressing down on you with each step. The mansion feels emptier than ever, despite the presence of staff and guards. You make your way to your room, seeking solace in the one place that feels somewhat like your own. Just as your hand touches the doorknob to your bedroom, a voice startles you "Hey, fairy princess"

You jump, turning around quickly and see the same pink-haired guy, Sanzu, from 1 month ago. He was the guy driving if you remember correctly. You would have been nice but right now you are annoyed and tired so you say "What are you doing in my house?"

Sanzu's grin widens at your reaction, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Relax, princess," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just here on business."

You scowl, your patience wearing thin. "What kind of business?"

"Manjiro's kind," he replies cryptically, his grin never faltering.

At the mention of Manjiro's name, your heart skips a beat. You however don't want to make it seem to this clearly crazy motherfucker that you missed his boss. So, crossing your arms over your chest you ask "Why are you bothering me then?"

Sanzu simply shrugs and replies "'m bored and you look like fun"

You're about to say something but someone else shows up. "the idiot is right for once. You look do like fun"

This other guy, you remember from a month ago from the night of the election. He's got purple hair with a few black highlights, styled in a very similar way to Sanzu. This purple-haired guy had a hanafuda tattoo on the front of his throat. "oh fuck off Rindo" Sanzu says looking annoyed, rolling his sleeves up "I was here first"

You see a matching tattoo on Sanzu's right inner wrist. "shut up man, you know I hate the whole business bullshit" the purple-haired guy, Rindo, says to Sanzu

The exchange between the two men leaves you feeling more exhausted than before. You try to mask your irritation as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing slightly as you address both of them. "Well, whatever business you're here for, I'm not interested. I've had a long day, and I just want some peace and quiet."

Sanzu's grin only widens, clearly enjoying your frustration. "Oh, come on, princess. Don't be like that. We're just here to have a little fun."

You turn to enter your room and hope these idiots don't follow you inside. Unfortunately for you, they do. It was a little odd though. You've never had someone outright ignore your wishes. It was kind of... Exciting. "what are you, a fuckin' princess?" Rindo mutters as he looks around your room after closing the large door behind him

Your bedroom looked like something out of a princess movie. An unnecessarily large bed in an even more unnecessarily large room. Your sheets were cream-coloured and baby pink. Canopies were hung up around your bed and you had one too many pillows but you swear you needed all of them. You had fluffy white carpets, a vanity, a walk-in closet, your own attached bathroom and a balcony. "Yes" You answer Rindo's rhetorical question anyway

Sanzu chuckles as he watches you, clearly amused by your answer. He saunters over to your vanity, picking up one of your perfumes and inspecting it with a curious expression. "Nice place you got here, princess. Real fancy."

You frown, feeling your irritation grow. But you don't say anything and just sit on the edge of your bed, watching them look around your room in fascination. Rindo smirks, leaning against your dresser as he surveys the room. "You know, most people would kill for a setup like this," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you? You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

Sanzu, now fiddling with a decorative trinket on your vanity, chimes in. "Yeah, what's the matter, princess? All this luxury not enough to keep you entertained?"

You shoot them both a withering look. You don't wanna tell them that you're lonely. After all, it's a very embarrassing thing to admit. Instead, you say "I dunno... It's not that. Just never had anyone in my room before"

Your words hang in the air, creating a brief silence as both Sanzu and Rindo process what you just said. Rindo's smirk fades slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. Sanzu, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, his amusement giving way to curiosity. "Never had anyone in your room before, huh?" Sanzu repeats, his tone losing some of its teasing edge. 

He sets the trinket back down on your vanity, his gaze shifting back to you. "That's kind of hard to believe, princess."

Rindo pushes himself off your dresser and walks closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Is that why you looked so miserable earlier? All this luxury and no one to share it with?"

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. You're not sure how to respond, but the truth is evident in your silence. They might be annoying, but they've hit a nerve you can't quite ignore. Sanzu takes a step closer, his playful demeanour giving way to something more sincere. "You know, if you're that lonely, you could always come hang out with us. We might not be your usual company, but we know how to have a good time."

Rindo nods in agreement, his earlier sarcasm replaced by a surprising note of camaraderie. "Yeah, who knows? You might even enjoy it."

You look between them, weighing their offer. It's tempting if only to break the monotony of your lonely existence. And as irritating as they might be, their presence is a welcome distraction from the endless silence of your mansion. "Alright," you say finally, your voice softer than before. "But if I get bored or annoyed, I'm kicking you both out."

Sanzu's grin returns in full force. "Deal, princess. We'll do our best to keep you entertained."

Rindo chuckles a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you have a night to remember."

The three of you settle into an uneasy truce, the tension in the room easing slightly. As Sanzu and Rindo continue to explore your room, their playful banter becomes less intrusive and more like a background hum, filling the empty spaces that once felt so suffocating. You find yourself laughing at their antics despite your initial irritation. Sanzu's mischievousness and Rindo's dry wit create a surprisingly dynamic duo. They might not be the company you expected, but they are, in their own way, a breath of fresh air.

You lose track of time. For the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of normalcy, of connection. It's not the same as what you felt with Manjiro, but it's something, and it's enough to lift your spirits, if only for a while. Eventually, the three of you end up sprawled out on your oversized bed, talking about everything and nothing. Sanzu tells outrageous stories that make you laugh until your sides hurt, and Rindo shares bits of his life that give you a glimpse into the world beyond your gilded cage.

As the night wears on, you feel a strange sense of contentment. You're not alone, not tonight. And for now, that's enough.

Manjiro sighs as the meeting with the president finally ends. He leaves the room without a word as usual. Sure Saimori Shinichi was president but at the end of the day, it was still Manjiro who had control ad not the stupid rich man. Manjiro had no reason to bow down to this man nor his shitty little daughter he was engaged to who is no doubt following him out of the room. His executives are still in the meeting room with Shinichi, Akashi Takeomi and Haitani Ran continuing to talk to Shinichi about whatever the fuck is going on lately or whatever old men talk about. Manjiro wasn't concerned with any of that. His mind was elsewhere, drifting to thoughts of you. He hadn't seen you in a month, and despite his best efforts to keep his distance, he found himself constantly thinking about that night in the backseat of his car. The way you looked at him, the way you felt in his arms—it haunted him. He told himself it was for the best, that keeping his distance was the only way to keep his goals in sight. As he walks down the corridor, his fiancée, Kaya, quickens her pace to catch up with him. "Manjiro, wait," she calls her voice a mix of irritation and desperation. 

He stops but doesn't turn to face her, his eyes fixed on the large windows overlooking the mansion grounds. Kaya reaches his side, her expression a mix of frustration and longing. "Why do you always walk away from me? We need to talk."

He finally looks at her, his face impassive. "There's nothing to talk about, Kaya. This arrangement is political, nothing more."

She rolls her eyes at his cold tone but stands her ground. "You could at least try to pretend you're interested. My father expects us to present a united front when we announce our engagement to the public."

Manjiro's eyes narrow, and for a moment, a flicker of anger crosses his features. "Your father can expect whatever he wants. I didn't agree to this for him or for you. It's a business deal, and that's all it will ever be."

Kaya's eyes flash with frustration, but she takes a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain her composure. "You might see it that way, but the public will see us differently. We need to at least appear to care for each other, Manjiro."

Manjiro's eye twitches and he walks up to her till their faces are mere centimetres apart. "Do you need something from me right now, Kaya?" 

Kaya stares up at him, her eyes seeming darker than usual, probably with arousal. A tense silence hangs in the air between them as Kaya's breath quickens. She meets Manjiro's intense gaze, her expression wavering between frustration and something more heated. She places a hand on his chest, fingers trembling slightly as she speaks. "Maybe I do need something, Manjiro. Maybe I need you to show me that you're not just a cold, unfeeling machine."

Manjiro's eyes narrow further, his jaw clenching. The space between them seems to crackle with a mix of anger and unresolved tension. "Kaya," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "this isn't about feelings. This is about control, power, and maintaining appearances. Don't mistake it for anything else."

But Kaya, undeterred, presses closer, her hand sliding up to his neck. "Is that really all it is to you? Because I see something different in your eyes right now."

Manjiro's control slips for just a moment, and he grabs her wrist, holding it tightly. The look he gives her is a warning, but she doesn't back down. Instead, she tilts her head, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You think you're so untouchable, don't you, Manjiro?"

Before he can respond, Kaya rises onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. The kiss is fierce, almost combative as if she's trying to prove a point. For a split second, Manjiro hesitates, the unexpectedness of her boldness catching him off guard. But then, as if a switch flips, he responds with equal intensity, his grip on her wrist tightening as he pulls her closer. Their kiss deepens, fueled by a mix of anger and unspoken desire. It's a battle for dominance, neither willing to back down. Manjiro's other hand tangles in Kaya's hair, pulling her head back hard to break the kiss and look into her eyes. They're both breathing hard, their faces flushed. "This is what you wanted, huh?" Manjiro's voice is rough, laced with disdain "To push me until I reacted?"

Kaya's eyes blaze with defiance. "I wanted to see if there's something more behind that mask you wear. And I think there is."

Manjiro's grip loosens slightly, his thumb brushing against her pulse point. "You're playing a dangerous game, Kaya."

She laughs, the sound almost breathless. "Maybe. But so are you."

That's how they end up in one of the many empty rooms in the mansion. Manjiro has Kaya bent over the edge of a bed, her skirt hiked up and panties pushed aside. His pants are unzipped and pulled down just enough to pull out his cock and pound into her from behind. "fuck" he groans, digging his nails into her hips "If you wanted to be fucked like a whore should've just told me instead of being annoying"

Kaya tries to lift her face off the mattress but he just puts a hand on the back of her neck, forcing her right back down. He doesn't want to hear her moan or whimper. From the last time he did this to her, Manjiro noticed the noises she made just gave him a damn headache. He'd rather not hear her at all. His pelvis smacks against her ass each time he thrusts in, making small pat pat pat noises. Oh god did he hate this stupid bitch. He knows exactly what she's doing, using him to raise her social status, to mark her place at the top because daddy doesn't love her enough. Manjiro could care less though. She was a pawn to be thrown away later and considering the amount of men she had on the side, it wouldn't be hard getting rid of her either. "See isn't this better?" Manjiro grunts, smacking his palm hard against her ass a few times "You're much much more bearable when you're quiet"

Kaya's fingers curl into the sheets and her hips jolt every time his palm makes contact with her rear, turning the pale skin a bright pink colour. Manjiro's mind drifts off to you. He wouldn't fuck you like this. Not the same way as he fucks Kaya. 

Oh, definitely not. 

Sweet girls like you deserved to be fucked just as sweetly. 

Manjiro wouldn't just hike up your pretty skirts like he usually does with Kaya. No, he'd take his time to undress you. He'd pull the pretty ribbons out of your hair, and press kisses to your cheeks. He'd take his time stretching out your tight little hole. After all, you were too sweet for him to just shove his cock into your little cunt like he does with Kaya. You'd probably take him so well too. Something tells Manjiro you might just cry so he'd fuck you on your back. He'd maybe change positions later, have you bent over with a pillow under your tummy for better support, and he'd rub your back and press kisses along your spine. 

Oh, he'd be so fucking sweet to you.

Manjiro wouldn't fuck you the same way he fucks your step-sister.

"f-fuckk" Kaya moans, her voice muffled thanks to him pressing her face into the mattress

He feels Kaya's thighs twitch and she convulsed as she comes on his cock. Manjiro keeps going, pistoning his hips faster, rougher into her. He thinks of you, all pictures he had of the men watching you in the background take of you— all the cute little outfits you wear to university and you from a month ago in the backseat of his car, your pretty moans, helpless whimpers and your tight little cunt he needed all his willpower to stop him from pulling out his cock and just sliding in. Finally, at the memory of you moaning his name, Manjiro cums, painting Kaya's insides white. "haa~ fuck" He groans and pulls out, not even waiting for himself to soften

He goes to the attached bathroom without a word and freshens himself up a bit, washing his hands and his face and wiping himself off. Manjiro straightens himself out and leaves the bathroom, then the room, not even bothering to look at Kaya who's fixing her skirt.

He had more important things to do. 

"wait so... You're number 2..." You say pointing at Sanzu while you sit behind Rindo twisting the purple strands of his hair into small braid "that other guy with the scar on his face, Kakucho, is number 3 and the rest of you are just executives?"

Sanzu smirks and nods, clearly amused by your curiosity. "That's right, princess. I'm number two. Kakucho is number three And the rest of us are executives, each with our own areas of expertise." He leans back against the headboard of your bed, watching you with a mixture of amusement and interest. "It's a hierarchy, just like any other organization."

Rindo chuckles, tilting his head to give you better access as you continue braiding his hair. "And we all answer to Manjiro. He's the one who keeps everything running smoothly, even if he can be a bit... intense."

You glance between the two of them, processing this information. It's strange to think of Manjiro, the person who left you feeling so vulnerable and confused, as the leader of such a powerful organization. But it also makes a certain amount of sense, given the aura of authority he carries with him. "And what exactly do you all do? I mean, besides hanging out in my room and causing trouble?"

Sanzu's grin widens, and he exchanges a look with Rindo before replying. "We handle a variety of things. Security, operations, negotiations. Anything that needs doing to keep the organization running smoothly."

Rindo nods in agreement. "Yeah, and sometimes that means dealing with problems in... unconventional ways."

You pause in your braiding, your fingers stilling as you consider their words. It's clear that their world is vastly different from yours, filled with danger and intrigue. But despite the risks, there's a certain allure to it all, a sense of excitement that you can't quite ignore. You've always been stuck behind these large walls and even larger gates. You can't deny how exciting it is that you finally get people to talk to and it was even better that they seemed so cool. Before you can dwell too much on it, the door to your room opens, and you all turn to see Manjiro standing in the doorway. His presence instantly commands attention, and the room falls silent. "Sanzu, Rindo," he says, his tone even but authoritative, "leave us."

Sanzu and Rindo exchange a quick glance before standing and making their way to the door. As they pass Manjiro, Sanzu gives you a quick wink, while Rindo offers a small nod. Then, they disappear into the hallway, leaving you alone with Manjiro. He closes the door behind him and takes a few steps into the room, his gaze fixed on you. You frown crossing your arms over your chest. "Can I help you?" You ask him

Of course, you were still mad. Radio silence for an entire month. Sure you could have texted or called him first but you weren't the one that initiated the 'spicy' moment in the back seat a month ago on the night of your birthday. Besides, you don't chase. Your ego and pride wouldn't let you. You don't want Sano Manjiro to think you're desperate for him even though deep down you are. You've never wanted someone so bad in your life. He reminds you of this pretty limited-edition doll you wanted as a kid. Of course, your dad bought it for you and yes, you still had it. 

As a child, you wanted the moon more than you wanted dolls. Sano Manjiro reminds you of your limited edition dolls but he also reminds you of the moon. 

Unreachable. 

You can't have him unless he wants you to.

"what's with the long face, sweetheart?" Manjiro asks and sits in front of you "and what's with the tone, hm?"

You just frown. "There is no tone" You reply sharply and turn away from him

That obviously doesn't last long as suddenly a hand wraps around your throat and you're forced to face him again. He was being kind of rough but not in a way to purposely hurt you. Manjiro's hand around your neck wasn't even squeezing or pressing down. He was simply holding you by the neck and— blood rushes to your face, warming your cheeks. "hm? Must be hallucinating then 'cause I'm hearing a tone"

Your breath catches as Manjiro's hand gently but firmly holds your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. Despite his grip, you can feel there's no pressure, just his presence asserting itself. His eyes bore into yours with intensity, searching for something in your expression. You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure even as your heart races. "Let go" you manage to say, your voice a whisper, a mixture of defiance and something else you can't quite name.

Manjiro's gaze doesn't waver. His thumb brushes lightly against your jawline, a gesture that's both possessive and oddly tender. "I don't think I will," he says softly, his tone low and intimate.

Your mind races, torn between anger at his audacity and the undeniable thrill of his proximity. You can feel his warmth seeping into you, eroding your resolve bit by bit and also unfortunately creating a small wet spot in your panties because you had no fucking idea you were into this shit. "This isn't funny" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

He leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Who said anything about joking?" His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him involuntarily, drawn to the magnetic pull he exudes.

"I'm serious," you manage to say, even as your hands betray you by gripping his wrist lightly, not to push him away but to feel the solidity of his touch.

Manjiro's lips curl into a half-smile, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement when he realizes you weren't pushing him away. "So am I," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "I haven't been avoiding you, sweet girl. Just been busy"

His admission hangs heavy in the air, filling the room with an unspoken tension. You search his eyes, seeing a raw honesty that takes you aback. "Then what do you want right now?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He releases your neck slowly, his hand trailing down your arm until he's holding your hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I want you," he says simply, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want all of you."

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words echoing in your mind. You've wanted him too, despite your pride and the barriers you've tried to erect. But now, faced with his confession, you find yourself unable to resist any longer. Without another word, you lean in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and longing. The kiss is fierce and passionate, a tumultuous exchange of heat and need. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his touch is reverent yet possessive. For a moment, everything else fades away. There's only the sensation of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the heat of his body pressed against yours. It's a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, overwhelming yet exhilarating. Oh you'd been thinking about the kiss you shared a month ago every night since then and this was probably even better than that. The number of times you've slipped your hand down your pyjamas at night thinking about Manjiro, the way he kissed you, touched you— oh man it almost wasn't fair to think about. When you finally break apart, breathless and dizzy with longing, Manjiro rests his forehead against yours. His eyes are dark with desire, his breathing ragged. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice husky with emotion.

You caress his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. "Me too," you confess softly, unable to deny the depth of your feelings any longer.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let go. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs against your hair, his words a promise.

Manjiro pulls you even closer and now you're in his lap, making out all messy and eager. As you tangle your fingers in his white hair you hope you don't seem too desperate. It just feels so nice being with him, kissing him. Especially now that he wasn't treating you like a stain. Instead, Manjiro is sliding your white lace trim cardigan off your shoulders and throwing it somewhere. You're greedily about to slip your tongue into his mouth but he pulls away, making a whine slip from your lips at the loss of contact. You're pushed off his lap to fall against the pillows in a half-sitting half-laying position under him with your legs hooked over his thighs on either side of his hips. "You're quite greedy for someone that has everything" Manjiro says unbuttoning his suit jacket and throwing it in the same place he threw your cardigan

You're heart is beating too fast as you watch him undo the top few buttons of his black dress shirt and roll up the sleeves to his elbows. Sano Manjiro was unnecessarily hot but perhaps that's why you wanted him so bad. "you miss me that much, sweet girl?" He asks, a large calloused hand sliding down your left knee to your bare thigh and the other hand on your midriff keeping you down

Your breath hitches at Manjiro's touch, his hands igniting a fire under your skin. His words wash over you, their effect both thrilling and unsettling. There's no denying the intensity of your desire for him, even as you struggle to maintain your composure. "I..." you start to say, your voice barely a whisper, but he cuts you off with a finger against your lips.

"Shh," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "No need to explain. Actions speak louder than words."

With that, he leans down and captures your lips in another searing kiss, his mouth hungry and demanding. Your hands roam his back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses along your jawline, down your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. Your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, each touch from him sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands continue their exploration, sliding under the hem of your blouse, causing you to arch into his touch. He teases your skin with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing patterns that make you ache for more. "I missed you" you confess breathlessly, your voice filled with a mix of longing and urgency.

Manjiro's gaze darkens with desire as he looks at you, his fingers caressing your cheek tenderly. "I know," Manjiro murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers tug at the necklace he gifted you "How about you show me what you've been doing all this time, hm? What've you been doin' while thinkin' 'bout me"

"s-show you?" you repeat shakily

Your voice trembles with a mix of nerves and anticipation as Manjiro's gaze intensifies. He nods slowly, his fingers still gently tracing the contours of your cheek, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he breathes, his voice a deep murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. "Show me."

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his stare on you as you try to gather your thoughts. His proximity, the heat of his body against yours, makes it difficult to think straight. But deep down, you know what he's asking for—what you've yearned for in his absence. "show me baby" Manjiro croons, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek "You touched yourself thinking of me didn't you?"

A shiver goes through you. You didn't want to admit to him that you did. You didn't want to admit you thought of the way his fingers caressed your most intimate parts and how he kissed you but he knew anyway. "show me how you did" He coaxes and before you know it, he hooks his thumb into your panties under your skirt and tugs them down your thighs

Your heart is beating fast. Way way too fast. "oh, would you look at these" Manjiro is pulling your white lacy panties off your ankles "These are pretty"

Your panties are white, with lace around the trim and a little white bow in the center. You couldn't even tell Manjiro you wore these for him because for one, you didn't know he'd be here and two, most of your panties are in the same style. They were cute and you liked wearing cute things. Thankfully, Manjiro doesn't ask if you wore them for him but instead "Think I'll keep these" and he stuffs them into his pocket

Your outfit itself was all lacy and cute. Cream-coloured skirt with little pink flowers, a pink ribbed cami top with a bow in the center and lace straps and trim. You were happy you hadn't dressed up in your typical depressed university student get-up like a month ago on your birthday. That had been a bit embarrassing to be seen by him in that outfit. However now that you think about it, this was only the 3rd time you met Manjiro and he's already got your panties off. But then again, the second time he had his hand shoved down your shorts. Maybe this was going too fast...

You liked him definitely but this was only the third time meeting him. Was it right to be doing this already? There are so many things to think about before doing this but the throb in the little space between your thighs stops any rational thought from truly making sense. So when Manjiro takes your hand and guides it between your thighs, you let him. "show me" he repeats as he flips your skirt up

Your movements are shaky and nervous as you scoop up your slick and spread it over your sensitive little bud. Your hips jolt at even the smallest touch and your eyes fall shut. This was embarrassing and the finger 8s you're drawing on your clit are shaky but when you open your eyes and see that Manjiro wasn't even looking at your cunt but rather your face with a softened gaze, a new rush of confidence goes through you. You let out a small shaky noise as your fingers hastily circle your nub, now a little too focused on just coming. "hey... a little slower" Manjiro whispers

Your fingers stop their pace and you look at him in confusion, eyes watery. Manjiro isn't smiling but his expression isn't cold. Rather it's soft. He looks endeared and the way he's looking at you causes this odd tugging feeling in your chest. "slower baby" Manjiro repeats and before you know it, his calloused fingers have replaced yours, lazily and slowly stroking your clit

A gasp leaves your lips and your other hand flies up to grasp at his bicep. It feels so much better than how you do it. So so good and you think you might as well just fall apart right then and there but Manjiro pulls his fingers away and guides your hand back down. "like that" he murmurs "'kay, pretty? You can do it like that for me right?"

The low tone of his voice makes your head feel fuzzy. You feel like you're drowning in his eyes and the dim lighting of your bedroom and the sun setting outside your window make this whole thing even better. It's almost romantic, even better than what you've fantasized about. 

Manjiro is even better than you've dreamed of. 

Even your dreams can't do the man above you any justice you think as you rub your clit in the same slow way he just did. His features are overall sharp but the slope of his nose is softer. His white hair is a bit messy now and his pink lips are a bit swollen. Everything about Manjiro is so pretty and it makes your head get even foggier. "there we go... doesn't it feel better when you go slower?" Manjiro asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your knee "one finger inside baby... take it slow"

He's being slow and coaxing and you feel yourself so easily complying, sliding your middle finger inside. A little whimper leaves your lips at the feeling. It doesn't feel as good as he did it. In fact, it hasn't been feeling as good since Manjiro touched you. Nothing else felt as good. Your fingers didn't feel as good as his did. "'Jiro..." You whimper

"Shh~" he hushes and kisses your cheek "add another"

You do just as he says, slowly thrusting two fingers in and out. It felt better but not as good as when he did it a month ago. "there we go, you're doing so well" Manjiro murmured and wrapped a hand around your throat again "Just wanna watch you make yourself feel good, baby"

He's once again not squeezing, just holding. It feels good. You like the feeling of his hands on you. "f-fuck~" Little whimpers and moans slip from your lips 

Your hips jolt and you grind your clit against the heel of your palm needily. You want more. You want him. You want it to be Manjiro's fingers inside you, not your own. "'Jiro" You whine

"Yeah baby?" he presses a kiss to your jaw "What does my sweet girl want?"

You shiver, whimpering out his name needily and your eyes turn glassy. "P-Please... want y-you to do it"

"hm? Want me to do it for you?" Manjiro presses a kiss to your forehead "Are your own fingers not enough for my sweet baby's little cunt?"

You grind your clit against your palm, so badly needing some kind of friction. "N-No it's not. they're not" You feel like you might cry

"awe my poor baby" he croons and kisses your cheek

Honestly speaking, you thought you'd need to beg or that he'd make you bed but perhaps Manjiro was feeling nice so he simply pulled your hand away from your needy cunt and replaced your fingers with his own. As soon as his thumb touches you sensitive nub your eyes roll back and lips part. Your hips jolt once his fingers start making scissoring movements and curling upwards. "there we go, good girl" Manjiro whispers and presses a kiss to your throat after you throw your head back "you just needed a little help didn't you?"

A string of whimpers leave your lips as his soft words of encouragement fill your ears and it has you falling apart in mere seconds. 

As the night draws on, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this unreachable moon might be within your grasp after all.

Kaya put a hand over her mouth as she shut the door of your bedroom she had opened a crack. She watched it all. Watched as Manjiro kissed and caressed you, watched as you came apart beneath him and he lifted you off your bed to carry you into your bathroom. She listened as he praised you and he encouraged you to keep going. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and something else—something more vulnerable—churning inside her. She had seen a side of Manjiro she had never witnessed before, a side that made her feel more isolated and unwanted than ever. Kaya knew this engagement was a business arrangement, but seeing him so tender and passionate with you stirred emotions she couldn't control.

Quietly, she turned away from your door and walked down the hallway, her mind racing. She needed to talk to her father, to tell him what she had seen. Perhaps there was still a way to salvage this, to make Manjiro see that she could be the one he desired.

Or wait. 

She stops in her tracks as a better idea crosses her mind. Kaya remembers her father was still yet to tell you about the engagement and she doubts Manjiro told you about it either. Perhaps... Perhaps she could use this to get back at you. Kaya smirked to herself as the plan began to take shape in her mind. She didn't need to run to her father just yet. Instead, she could leverage this secret engagement to her advantage, to twist the knife and regain some control over the situation. She continued down the hallway, her steps light with newfound resolve. There was more than one way to fight for what she wanted. "Dad" she bursts back into the meeting room as her father is still talking to Kokonoi Hajime, another Bonten executive, about their favourite poker games, the rest either smoking or in the midst of getting ready to leave

Her father sighs and Kaya's stomach twists uncomfortably at the irritated way her own father looks at her. "yes?"

Kaya clears her throat and eyed the annoying criminals in the room and they all roll their eyes and left, the pink-haired one with the scars on his mouth whose name she forgot, brushed a little too close past her. "anyways..." She mutters and sits next to her father "Have you told [y/n] about the engagement yet?"

"No, not yet. I was going to see her just now" Shinichi responds, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension

Kaya smiles and musters up the sweetest voice she possibly could. "Maybe for now don't tell her"

Shinichi raises an eyebrow, intrigued by his daughter's sudden interest in the matter especially something concerning you, his favourite. "And why shouldn't I?" he asks, his tone cautious.

Kaya leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Because I have a plan. I've seen how Sano looks at her. You told me Dad, that we needed something to keep Bonten in check since they've been getting too bold. I saw two of them laughing and playing with her earlier—"

"Kaya I do not want to put [y/n] in any kind of danger, especially with those snakes. It was bad enough they already knew about her when I've been trying my best to hide her. I don't want to make things worse" Shinichi says rubbing his forehead

Kaya leans back slightly, considering her father's words. She knew he was protective of you, and rightly so. Bonten's world was dangerous, filled with rivalries and power struggles that could easily ensnare an innocent like you. But Kaya was driven by her own desires, fueled by the need to regain control over her crumbling world and jealously that once again you were getting love. Her father loved you more than her and now her fiancé, who for one sure she didn't like at all, but it still annoyed the hell out of her because Manjiro always treated her so cold and rough. “I understand your concern, Dad, but hear me out. We can use this to our advantage without putting [Y/N] in harm's way.”

Shinichi's expression remains skeptical, but he motions for her to continue. Kaya takes a deep breath, knowing she has to tread carefully. "If we keep it a secret, we can observe their interactions and understand what their true intentions are. We can use her as a... a way to gauge their loyalty and plans. If Manjiro is distracted by [y/n], he might make mistakes. We can use their attachment to her to our advantage. Manipulate the situation and you can win back your power and truly be president and not just a man sitting in a chair while a criminal takes control from the shadows."

Shinichi leans back in his chair, considering her words carefully. He knows Kaya is not to be underestimated when she sets her mind to something, but the thought of involving you in the dangerous dynamics of Bonten worries him deeply. "Kaya, this is risky. [Y/N] is not just a pawn in some game. She's..."

"Exactly, Dad," Kaya interrupts softly, her voice pleading now. "She's a leverage we can use and so far, three of them seem to like her"

Shinichi sighs heavily, torn between his protective instincts for you and the strategic considerations for Bonten. He rubs his temples, his expression tight with concern. "Kaya, I understand your point, but I can't risk [Y/N]'s safety just to gain an advantage over Bonten."

Kaya's jaw tightens, frustration simmering beneath the surface. She leans closer to her father, her voice urgent. "But Dad, we need something to keep them in check. They're getting bolder, and if we don't do something soon, they could undermine everything you've built."

Shinichi's gaze flickers with indecision, his mind racing through the implications of Kaya's proposal. He knows the precarious position Bonten is in, with internal tensions and external threats looming. And yet, involving you, his precious little girl, in their dangerous games is something he's always strived to avoid. In fact, he tried avoiding even letting you out of the mansion. You were his little secret, his illegitimate daughter, someone that wasn't supposed to exist— yet his first daughter was encouraging him to use you. "You want [y/n] to be our eyes and ears?" Shinichi confirms Kaya's words which do make sense as it was something you would agree to doing

Kaya nods eagerly, her eyes locking onto her father's with determination. "Yes, Dad. With [Y/N]'s connection to Manjiro and those two others, we can gain valuable insight into their plans and intentions. We can use her presence as a leverage point, without putting her directly in harm's way."

Shinichi's brow furrows deeply as he weighs the risks and potential benefits of Kaya's proposal. He knows Rindo and Sanzu, mostly the latter, are influential within Bonten, and any leverage over them could indeed strengthen his position. Yet, the thought of involving you in the dangerous world of Bonten is a bitter pill to swallow. You were his secret, his beloved daughter, sheltered from the brutal realities of the world. "Kaya, you know how I feel about this," Shinichi begins slowly, his voice tinged with reluctance. "I've kept [Y/N] out of the public eye for a reason and not just because of the backlash I'd get. She's not like us, not like you and me. She's innocent, untouched by our world."

Kaya internally rolls her eyes. Oh, she hated how her father couldn't see how much of a little bitch you were. She hates that you, the spoiled sheltered little brat with nothing to offer, is his favourite and not her. "I know, Dad. But she's already involved. Manjiro and those two are interested in her. We can use that to our advantage. She's not just an innocent girl anymore; she's a potential asset."

Shinichi rubs his temples wearily, grappling with the weight of his decision. "And what if things go wrong? What if they find out we're using her?"

"We'll be careful," Kaya insists, her voice earnest. "We won't put her directly in danger. We'll monitor the situation closely, and if it gets too risky, we'll pull her out. But right now, we need a way to keep Bonten in check. This could be our best chance."

Shinichi stares at his daughter, torn between his paternal instincts and his responsibilities as the president of Japan. He knows the risks, but he also understands the necessity of maintaining control over his new position as president of the country. Finally, he sighs heavily and meets Kaya's gaze with resignation. "Alright," he concedes reluctantly. "But we do this carefully. [Y/N]'s safety is non-negotiable. She's to be kept out of direct harm's way at all costs."

Kaya nods emphatically, relief washing over her features. "Of course, Dad. I'll make sure of it."

Shinichi gives her a stern look, his voice firm. "And Kaya, remember, [Y/N] is not just a pawn to be played in our game. She's family."

Kaya's expression softens, and she nods solemnly. "I know, Dad. I won't forget."

With a heavy heart, Shinichi rises from his chair, his mind already racing with plans and strategies. "Let's proceed cautiously, then. We'll keep the engagement a secret for now and observe the situation. But the moment I sense any danger to [Y/N], we pull the plug."

Kaya nods again, determined to prove herself and regain control over her fate. "Understood, Dad."

So they leave the study and down the hall see the snake— Bonten, standing around, seemingly talking about something. "Sano-san" Shinichi calls "I need to talk to you about something"

Manjiro is fixing his collar, his gaze cold as he looks at the president and his fiancée. "yes?"

The rest go quiet as well, waiting for Shinichi to speak. Kaya doesn't understand how you managed to get three out eight of the top members of Bonten wrapped around your finger when they're all so damn scary. She hates your guts but she sure applauds you for it. "about my other daughter..." Shinichi starts

Manjiro's expression remains stoic, his demeanour unreadable as Shinichi mentions you. Kaya observes him closely, noting the controlled way he holds himself, the mask of indifference he wears so well. It's a stark contrast to the passionate intensity she witnessed earlier in your bedroom, a side of him she hadn't imagined existed. "What about her?" Manjiro asks curtly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Shinichi hesitates briefly, exchanging a glance with Kaya before continuing. "I was planning to inform her about the engagement soon, but I think we hold off on it for now."

Manjiro's gaze flickers, a hint of curiosity betraying his outwardly composed demeanour. "Is that so?" he replies, his voice neutral.

Kaya watches him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. She wonders if he suspects anything if he knows about the plan she and her father have discussed. But Manjiro's expression remains inscrutable, giving nothing away. Shinichi clears his throat, his tone measured as he continues, "sibling rivalry and all. You know how it is with girls" 

Kaya can't help but narrow her eyes a little at her father's excuse. "Kaya, the adults are talking, how about you go see what's for dinner" Shinichi says to her

She bites her tongue and pretends to leave but listens to the rest of the conversation behind a wall. "[y/n] and Kaya have always had fights growing up and telling [y/n] might cause even more problems..." Shinichi says

Manjiro's gaze shifts between Shinichi and Kaya, his expression guarded. He's accustomed to navigating the murky waters of alliances and rivalries within Bonten, but the mention of sibling dynamics brings a flicker of interest to his eyes. "I see," Manjiro responds evenly, though there's a subtle tension in his posture that Kaya notices. 

She knows she's testing the waters here, trying to see how much Manjiro knows or suspects. Despite her envy and frustration, she's also intrigued by the depth of his composure. Shinichi nods, his tone deliberate. "Yes, I'd prefer to handle the situation delicately. Their relationship is... complicated."

Kaya watches Manjiro closely, searching for any sign that he might see through their facade. She knows her father is trying to buy time, to use you as a pawn without you being aware. But with Manjiro, she senses there's more at play—his intelligence and perceptiveness could be a challenge to their plans. "I understand," Manjiro replies, his voice betraying no hint of his thoughts. "Family matters can be sensitive."

Shinichi nods in agreement, his gaze steady on Manjiro. "Indeed. I trust you understand the importance of discretion in this matter."

Manjiro inclines his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgement. "Of course."

Kaya smiles and pulls her bottom lips between her teeth. She couldn't wait. But Kaya also knows she needs to bide her time. She can't reveal her cards too soon, not when you and Manjiro are still in the honeymoon phase of your blossoming relationship. She'll wait, she'll watch, and when the moment is ripe, she'll strike.

In the meantime, she'll play the role of the supportive sister, the innocent bystander caught in the complexities of family dynamics. She'll observe your interactions with Manjiro, noting every smile, every touch, and every whispered promise. And with each passing day, her resolve strengthens, fueled by jealousy and ambition.

It would tear you apart and she knows it will.

[END SCENE]

"hey sweetheart" You hear your dad's voice echo in your room as you lie in bed now showered and changed in your pyjamas

You sit up in bed, your heart warming at the sound of your father's voice after such a long time apart. Despite the complications and secrets swirling around you, his presence brings a sense of comfort and familiarity. "Hi Dad!" you exclaim with a bright smile, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of the evening's events. 

You notice the tiredness in his eyes, the weight of responsibility that seems to have settled on his shoulders more heavily than usual. Being president must definitely be hard. Shinichi steps into your room, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes in your appearance. "You look well," he remarks softly, his gaze filled with paternal affection "my little girl barely looks a day over 10, I can't belive you're 20 now"

You pout as he sits down in front of you. "hey! I do not look 10"

Shinichi chuckles warmly, reaching out to playfully ruffle your hair. "Alright, maybe not 10. But you'll always be my little girl, no matter how old you get," he says fondly, his tone tinged with both pride and a hint of melancholy.

You lean into his touch, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite the complexities of your family's situation and the secrets that seem to hover just beneath the surface, moments like these with your father are precious to you. "I missed you, Dad," you admit softly, your voice carrying the weight of the time you spent apart.

His expression softens, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "I missed you too, sweetheart," Shinichi replies sincerely, his gaze searching yours. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately. Things have been... complicated."

You nod understandingly, knowing all too well the pressures and responsibilities that come with his position. "It's okay, Dad," you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand gently. "I know you're doing your best."

Shinichi smiles gratefully, his eyes reflecting his gratitude for your understanding. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he says softly. "I appreciate that more than you know."

Silence settles between you for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, you decide to ask him "Why does Bonten know who I am?"

Shinichi sighs. It was time to let the skeletons out of the closet. 

notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the smut was okay

likes, asks, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4

@asirensrage @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @merrymerrykiss

@maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife @bachiraslvr @bontensbabygirl

[raguiras]

Burton-fied TWST, kinda?!

aka the Haunted Victorian Mansion AU

Something entirely different from my usual content for once ^^ Might do a 2nd part if y'all like it! // reblogs are extremely appreciated ~

This AU was created and developed by @althea-and-alcestris and I helped her with the lore! I was also able to include my Yuu OC Allen and his ship with Deuce 🫶

NOTE: The AU description won't go too much into detail for now in order to avoid potentially triggering topics.

About the AU

The Haunted Victorian Mansion AU combines elements from Ghost Bride (my friend's base concept/inspiration for this AU) with ones from Identity V (my influence).

A group of detectives are lured into a haunted mansion in promise of money, other valuables, and secret information on criminal cases if they "solve a riddle". Said mansion is inhabited by the ghosts of people who died tragic deaths and can no longer remember any details about how or why they died.

While they do automatically want to uncover the secrets of the dead, the detectives aren't aware of what the "riddle" on hand is. Nobody told them that if they don't figure out the reasons behind every single ghost's death until sunset, they're going to be trapped inside the mansion forever...

Hint: You may be able to guess why Malleus, Riddle, Floyd and Jade died in this AU based on their designs.

Canon cast

Detectives:

Deuce, Trey, Cater, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Kalim, Rook, Epel, Silver

Ghosts:

Riddle, Ace, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Ortho, Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, Baul

♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

Intro for 2 out of 40+ AUs done! I created more than 20 of those AUs and will likely make many of mine collaborative (= you can officially put your OCs and ships into them), so stay tuned!

I'll likely talk more about the Haunted Victorian Mansion AU in the future if y'all like it, sooo 👁👁

[multi-fandom-imagine]

ꭱꭺꮪꮲᏼꭼꭱꭱꭹ ꮮꮖꮲ ꮐꮮꮻꮪꮪ 【 𝙻𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝖧𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 】

↳part II

A/n: And here it is...something with a more happier ending. I also hate this

You don't remember after dying, whoever saved you, whoever stole you from your time now that was a dick move. You didn't know how...you blamed the blood loss.

But you didn't care who saved you because they took you away from Logan. Away from the man you loved not to mention how this jackass lost your favorite raspberry lip gloss.

And now you were stuck in a universe trying to figure out a way to get back to your original time and it seemed that Wade Wilson would be the one to do it even though deep down you felt like you would be stuck here.

Logan honestly didn't remember much, the man was too busy to drown out his sorrows. Too busy getting himself drunk so he wouldn't have to think about you but he was always thinking about you.

Finger gliding over the tub of the Raspberry lip gloss, Logan clenched his jaw. Part of him wanted to toss it so you'd stop haunting him but then that would mean your death was real. Tensing, the man did his best to ignore all the commotion.

"I think this may be the one."

Still holding onto the lip gloss, Logan frowned as he cleared out his throat. "Just give me one more drink then i'll leave."

"That's not how it works."

Leaning over the table, Deadpool eyed the man, his only chance. "It does now."

Looking around the mansion, Logan couldn't keep the scowl off his face. It all looked the same but you weren't here and he was. At least in his other universe he could still visit you.

"Hey!' Where are you going?!"

"Away from you?" Logan scowled as he continued to stalk through the mansion.

"But-" Deadpool try to explain what happened in the TVA, that you were alive. Dropping his hand, Wade waved him off.

'He'll find out soon enough'

Looking around the familiar halls, Logan couldn't help but think how strange it was. Everything looked the same but it still looked the same.

And that smell...that oh familiar smell. The one he thought he would forget. Heart leaping into his throat, Logan felt like he was going crazy frantically rushing through the halls....right until he reached a particular door.

His hand hovering over the door knob not realizing how his hand started to shake. He didn't know why he was doing this. It's not like it was you...this was a different universe.

It wasn't his universe....so why would you be his?

He didn't even know why he opened the door but there you were...laying on the bed nose buried in a book. He suddenly found himself not caring that you weren't his he just needed to hold you.

Just for a minute...if only for a second.

Sensing someone in the room you snapped the book shut turning your attention to the door as your breath hitched. "Logan?"

This had to be your Logan, it was all Wade blabbed about. Fighting back tears you scrambled off the bed throwing your arms around the man. Tears stainning his shirt. "Please tell me it's really you."

It took the man a moment until he let his arms hold you, gently scared that you might just shatter in his arms. His knees buckling and giving way falling to the ground. He never thought he would cry again, not since he held your bloodied body in his arms but feeling you. Knowing that you were here by some miracle, well he really didn't care.

Hand's shakily holding you, he let his fingers slipped under your shirt. Feeling the jagged scars he caused, the ones that caused your death.

Never again, he will be better, he will do better because he will not lose you twice.

"I love you." Logan whispered against your lips as he finally gave you a kiss, a smile finally forming on his face after so many years.

You tasted just like he remembered.

Just like your Raspberry lip gloss

[freyaphoria]

AHHHHHH you really good at writing yandere fics. can i request that yandere seongjoong and like what do you do with them every single day. if you get what i mean yk

AHHHH THANK YOU!!♡ If I understood correctly, you asked what we did in a day. If I misunderstood, please feel free to ask again. And thank you soo much for 400 followers!♡

tw: food, blood mentioned

(Based on this)

A typical day with no one getting hurt, Joong in a good mood, and no punishment would look like this:

Seonghwa comes to your room and wakes you up in the morning since you have your own room since Hongjoong gave you a room for your good behavior.

And Seonghwa has prepared your breakfast, and the three of you eat your breakfast, facing Hongjoong at the table, exposed to his soul-sucking gaze.😣

You try not to interact with Hongjoong too much during the morning, at any moment you could explode at him and cause him to take back the freedoms he gave you. Also, since Hongjoong is an unstable maniac, you never know which side of him he'll show you. For example, sometimes your tantrums please him, but sometimes he makes ten times the tantrums you throw at him and punishes you severely.

When breakfast is over, Seonghwa washes the dishes, per Hongjoong's rules. because you once stole a kitchen knife and tried to stab Hongjoong with the excuse of helping him. As a result, Hong broke your arm. Very romantic💕

Then Joong gets ready and goes somewhere as if he is going to work. You didn't know where he was going, but you could tell from his bloody clothes when he arrived in the evening that he didn't go to work. Which office job involves bloodshed? Sometimes he takes Hwa with him wherever he goes. When he takes him, he locks you in your room to prevent you from doing fun things like escaping.

You love the moments you spend alone at home with Hwa because he is not unstable like Joong. You can tell when he is angry and when he is happy. He is also more compassionate towards you. But he still never lets you escape. If you mention escaping to him, he will definitely tell Joong and boom! Another punishment awaits you!💕

You usually build legos with Hwa, Joong buys him legos as a reward. A room in the mansion was filled with Seonghwa's Legos. Sometimes you wonder how much all those Legos cost Joong.

Lunch is very important for Hwa! Since Joong wants you to eat healthy, Hwa usually makes healthy snacks like an almond mom. While having lunch together, you would talk about your old lives. If Joong heard about this he would be very angry at both of you but it had been a little secret between you and Hwa.

If you are allowed to watch television, you watch television, or you silently watch the forest through the window with Hwa.

The activities you will do during the day depend on the behavior of both of you. Okay, Seonghwa isn't completely innocent either. But after all, he too is Joong's victim. So if Hwa did something to upset him -which is almost a one percent chance- for ex Joong doesn't allow him to watch TV, so he spends all day building Legos or reading books in his room while you watch TV. But if you couldn't do an activity because of punishment, Hwa wouldn't do it without you and would find something for you to do.

Since Hwa is a loyal dog to Joong, he constantly watches you when Joong is not around and will grab you and warn you if you make the slightest attempt to escape or break Joong's rules. If you don't listen to him, the demon that haunts Joong comes out of Hwa and uses violence in a moment of anger, even though he knows he will regret it later🥺

Why this is so long (I think I've been waiting for this moment)

Whenever Joong comes home from whatever the hell he was with bloody clothes, he expects you to greet him with a hug. (in his dreams, of course🙄) When you don't hug, Hwa tries to help you hug by pushing you. But Joong rolled his eyes at you and said, "My prince, forget about her, come and hug me." He opens his arms to Hwa and Hwa runs and hugs him as if he saw water in the desert. Hello Stockholm syndrome!👋🏻

To cut it short, (Joong takes a shower and puts on fresh clean clothes ) until dinner is ready, you will have to listen to Joong give a long speech about how easy and peaceful your life will be if you stay here, obey him and love him. my ass

You've eaten something, you feel sleepy because of the monotony of the day, and you usually want to go to bed at 6 o'clock so you don't see Joong's face anymore, but will Joong let you? No.😃

The three of you sit on the sofa like a✨️family✨️ and watch a cliché movie from B.C. that even the actors have forgotten, with an IMDb rating of 2 that Joong chose. And while the movie was still going on, he would wake up the first sleeper by kicking them. How romantic!💕 But when he gets sleepy, he turn off the movie and go to sleep. How thoughtful!💕

He doesn't talk about what he does during the day and asks what you do. When you give him short answers, Hwa will embellish an activity as simple as building legos and tell it like an epic to save you.

If Joong's mood hasn't changed by this time, you would be a little relieved that it won't change again. I mean, if he was angry at you, you'd be crying in the basement covered in blood by now.

When it's time for you to go to bed, you would hug Hwa and without kissing Joong goodnight, and go to your room but he would hold you and kiss you anyway.

Aaaand thank God, some peace! You were finally in your room! Thankful that this day ended peacefully, you feel sleepy and fall asleep as you look carefully at the forest through your iron-barred window, which resembles a ✨️prison✨️, to see if you can see any house or car. Having hope connects you to life!

Sometimes one of them comes to hug you while you sleep. If you had your back to the door and couldn't see the person coming, you would know that person was Hwa from the gentle arms wrapped around your waist. If harsh hands wrap around your throat instead of those gentle hands, unfortunately that person is Joong.

Since they sleep together, if one sleeps with you, the other will usually join you after a while. You find yourself pressed between the two. Of course, you press yourself against Hwa, trying to stay away from Joong. you failed

That's it! This is how you spend a simple and plain day! It seems fun except for the fact that you get bored of doing the same things all the time :(

A day of punishment, lots of screaming, tears and blood would be very different from this.

I had so much fun writing this, I don't know why, thank you for sending this request. It's 4 am and I think the night drunkenness has hit me.

[roanofarcc]

UNVEILED

pairing. ghost-bride!reader x trevor lefkowitz

summary. requested. Out of all the mysteries that lived within the walls of the Woodstone Mansion, Trevor was only curious about the mystery of you and the veil that constantly covered your face.

warnings. fem!reader, mentions of death, dead!reader, bodily injuries, talk of insecurities, murder, hurt/comfort

word count. 2.8k || masterlist

a/n. this came out a bit angstier than intended lol but don’t worry there is comfort too! also…maybe I write a part two to this?? feel free to request for all of the ghosts; I love this show so much <3

It often felt like you were on the outside of things, peering in but rarely interacting. The ghosts that shared their purgatory with you in Woodstone had tried and still sometimes did to include you in their TV-watching nights and other ghostly shenanigans. They tried to be kind, but deep down you knew the mystery that shrouded your presence unnerved them. You were the one death none of the already established ghosts had witnessed nor had they seen it coming. One day you simply were one of them, hidden behind a veil and forever stuck in your wedding dress that was ruined with deep crimson smudges.

Only Hetty, Thorfinn, and Sasappis had seen you hours before you met your fate on your wedding day. They saw your features illuminated with a blissful wedding glow. The next thing they knew, chaos had erupted throughout the mansion and you, bloodied and veiled, could see them. What had happened, they only caught pieces from wedding guests as they fled the mansion without any kind of celebration. A groom who flew off the handle and a poor almost-wife caught in the crossfire.

The three of them held more sympathy and kept the secret of your death, what little details they knew. But they had established their own friendships amongst each other and the new ghosts that later joined their strange collection. You could never find it in yourself to truly be a part of their tightly-knit circle. You floated about the house, not quite as estranged as the basement ghosts, but with an uneasy air of mystery that made it difficult for the core group of ghosts to befriend you genuinely. They were never unkind to you, but your presence seemed to unnerve them, sometimes. All you were was a sheet of off-white, faceless, and gory bride.

Your husband, the man you once swore had loved you more than life itself, had covered your face with your veil after he killed you. For a while, you wanted to believe the gesture was one of love but the more you sat in it, you knew it was one of self-preservation. He didn’t want to look at what he did to you, and you thought why would anyone else? You hadn’t even seen what you looked like, but you could feel the deep grooves of your injuries across your face. When you brushed your fingers along your cheeks and down across your chin, you were back at what was supposed to be your wedding night, lying on the ground as the man you once loved saw nothing but red. When he was done ruining the delicate skin along your face with something sharp you hadn’t even seen coming, he placed your veil back down where it had remained since.

Your blood was visible to anyone who looked at you, but your face was obstructed by the ivory, pink, and red veil. It was for the best, you believed. The ghosts and Sam already saw you as some peculiar horror movie figure that lingered in door frames and only spoke from time to time; your sudden input made them jump like they had forgotten you’d been there but you were quite hard to miss. Maybe they blocked you out, pretended they were ghosts haunted by some poor little bride in a costume people now bought in stores and wore on Halloween.

Well, that wasn’t the whole truth, necessarily. Not all of the ghosts tip-toed around you. There was one person in the mansion who seemed to be the opposite of turned off by your quiet and awfully haunting nature.

“Knock knock.”

“It’s not a courtesy knock if you’re already sticking your head inside the room, Trevor,” you said, followed by a gentle sigh.

Trevor was a stark contrast to the other ghosts, while they tried to be your friend but ended up tip-toeing too much around you, he seemed to not be put off by you in the slightest; it was odd and you weren’t sure how welcome it was. You didn’t know how to feel about his flirtatious comments or friendly attitude. Since your fiance, you didn’t have the best feelings toward men in general. You never knew what they were really thinking. One moment, they’re ready to walk down the aisle for you, and the next, they’re the reason you’re a ghost. It wasn’t like you could die again, but there were a million ways to hurt someone, even when you both were dead, which was another reason you didn’t cross the distance between you and the other ghosts.

With a shrug, he stepped fully inside your room with a smile on his lips. “Hard to be courteous as a ghost.”

“I don’t think you try too hard,” you replied, curled into your chair beside the window. You sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, the skirt of your dress spilling out along the ground. Trevor helped himself to the chair beside yours, making himself comfortable. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shook his head. “There’s only so much of Thorfinn’s ‘cod-talk’ that I can handle. So, I figured I’d pay you a visit. You didn’t come to our morning TV time. Sam showed us another reality show called ‘Jersy Shore.’”

“I don’t think I’m the most welcome to TV time.” They invited you, sure, but deep down you knew they only did it as a formality. You often felt like you were butting in.

Trevor looked at you like you had grown another head; his brows furrowed and a little crease formed across his forehead. “What? Of course you are. You live you too, you know?” He scooted to the end of the chair that was angled toward yours and leaned forward. “And I like having you there.”

You looked at him, head tilted slightly. He couldn’t see your face nor the expression you made underneath your veil but he heard the scoff leave your lips. “You don’t have to say that, you know? You don’t have to pretend like you…” you trailed off, unsure of the right word. You don’t quite know what he was pretending to do. To like you. To see you as a friend when he hardly knew anything about you. Your presence unsettled those inside the house. The air of mystery around you wasn’t inviting but rather cold and confusing. You had made yourself that way, with the help of your fiance who had lost his mind on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

“Like I what? Like you? Because I’m not pretending,” he said, his voice so matter of fact it was hard to believe he was lying, but you knew he had to be. Trevor hung around you, talked to you like a friend, but you couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t real. How could it be?

“Stop,” you signed, hanging your head and dropping your legs back down to the ground. The taste of blood forever stuck on your tongue made you wince. “Look at me.” You weren’t something lovely anymore. And sure, the other ghosts all had something that signified their death forever stuck on them, but it was bigger than a simple appearance. You had loved someone so much and they hurt you so terribly that even in the afterlife the thought of showing your face, your wounds and blood and bridal makeup made you feel ill. Because if someone you loved had looked at you before that, someone who knew you so intimately, and still hurt you, how was anyone supposed to look at you now and feel any semblance of love or even like? What if someone looked at you again, face ruined, and decided to hurt you just as your fiance did?

“I’m trying,” Trevor said. “But it’s a little hard to see you.”

A pang, hot and deep, ricocheted through your chest as you stood up. “That’s the point.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream, perhaps a bit of both but you had resorted to silence considering you weren’t alone. You didn’t want to make more of a scene than you already did with your presence that felt too large and uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to get rid of them?” Sam asked, her voice laced with concern and a gentleness that was a bit lost on you. She and Jay had been cleaning out some old boxes they had found shoved into a closet. In one of them lived a couple of framed photographs of you and your fiance when you were dating. They were a little worn and so old you were surprised they held up after all that time.

You looked too happy in the photos, smiling widely in his arms. There was another taken shortly after your engagement. Your family had brought them to Woodstone to decorate with for your wedding and after the events of that night, they must’ve forgotten them. Somehow they got shoved into a box and remained inside the home ever since. A part of you felt like it was a sweet sentiment, cementing your presence inside the mansion but another part felt like it was some kind of sick joke.

“Oh, so that’s what you look like,” Flower said, peering over Sam’s shoulder. There was no malice in her voice, only the usual airiness, but it carried an unknown weight to her and everyone else.

You felt sick as you stared at the smiling face of the man you almost married. He looked happy too. The two of you together had once been a charming sight. Your families and friends always told you how good the two of you looked together like you had been put on the Earth to find one another. But you no longer looked like the person staring back at you in the photograph, and the last image you had of the man you once loved looked nothing like he did in those photos.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head at Flower’s words. “No anymore.” And never again.

Back inside your room, you paced, chewing on your fingernails. Something had a tight hold on your chest, squeezing your heart was no longer beating tightly. You were so caught up in your awful, crashing waves of nasty emotions that pulled you under, that you missed someone enter your room.

“Hey,” Trevor said, softly so as to not scare you but you jumped anyway and dropped your hand quickly as your veil fell back over your mouth. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that. Sam feels really bad about showing you the photos. She didn’t mean to make you upset she just-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I didn’t know they’d make me feel so awful,” you said, glad he couldn’t see the tears that trickled down your cheeks. “That’s not her fault. I…” you trailed off, falling onto the edge of your bed with your hands held tightly together in your lap.

Trevor sat beside you, leaving a space between you two. “The other dude in the photo. He was your fiance, right?” You nodded, solemnly. “And he was the one who…”

“Kill me? Yes.” The pieces weren’t impossible to put together. You were sure in Sam’s research about the house and the ghosts your story was among them. Maybe Hetty or Sass or Thor told the others what little they knew about your death. They had been off doing something else when you were murdered, but that wasn’t something that occurred silently. In the aftermath, the house was in chaos and your almost-husband was taken away red-handed.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said.

“He wasn’t.” Your voice came out with a bite, but it wasn’t directed at Trevor. You bounced back and forth between sadness and anger, stewing it in decade after decade. You wanted it soothed but you feared you’d forever be the bitter bride roaming the halls of Woodstone. “He did more than just kill me that day. It was like he knew I’d become a ghost, stuck here forever in this stupid dress, and my face-” You stopped yourself, ghosting your hand against the fabric of your veil. “He ruined me. Both in life and death.”

Carefully, Trevor reached out and grasped your hand. His hand was cold, but as he squeezed yours, you felt warmer. “Don’t let him,” he said, simply as if he knew anything about how you felt. You rolled your eyes; he couldn’t see it but he sensed it in the stiffening of your shoulders and the slack of your hand in his. “He’s not here, you are. Yeah, he fucked up your life but…I don’t know, don’t you ever feel like us becoming ghosts is a weird second chance?”

“It doesn’t really feel like a second chance. It feels like I’m stuck.” Stuck in your dress, in your veil, in your wedding venue, in the sinking feeling that no matter what you do you’re doomed.

“But it can,” Trevor said, scooting closer to you. “It can feel like a second chance. No one here should be friends; no one here should know anything about each other but we do. That’s a second chance if I’ve heard of one.”

“And you don’t think it’ll end badly?” Because doesn’t everything good?

He smiled lightly. “I try not to think about how it’ll end, only how it’s goin’.”

You had once thought that way too. The inevitability of death or something coming to an end was one of the last things that used to occupy your mind. You lived in the moment, swept up in happiness and falling in love with every stranger you met. The ‘till death do we part’ promise your fiance made when he proposed had never weighed on you because you always thought you’d make it into your old age with him. Since you felt death, endings in your mind became bitter and you couldn’t help but believe they’d always be bad. Every end would be tragic in life and death.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore,” you admitted in a whisper, staring down at your intertwined hands in your lap.

“I could show you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face but you were too scared to look at him and see how genuine he was. You heard it in his voice but seeing it on his face, you were afraid you’d cave. A small piece of you, the part of your heart still intact that wanted nothing more than to be in love again, wanted to cave so badly. The loneliness of your act of pushing everyone inside the home away despite their efforts was tiresome.

You blinked back a couple more tears and sighed. “That might take a while.” You didn’t know if you even had it in you to take back what your fiance stole.

“Good thing we have eternity, then.” You heard the smile in Trevor’s voice and caved, looking over at him looking right at you. He was close, closer than you were sure he had ever been. “Do you trust me?”

The first answer that sprung forward in your head was yes, despite everything, every twisted worry that had accumulated in your body, your instinct when he asked was to say yes. He’d never done anything to make you say no. Unlike your fiance, you never had a troublesome inkling in the pit of your stomach that he’d lose his temper one day or that you got on his nerves when they were already inflamed. No, Trevor stayed with a cheeky grin, a crude joke, a compliment here and there, and an air of trustworthiness that everyone in the house felt but never said aloud.

Swallowing thickly, still tasting the blood on your tongue you answered, “Yes.”

He let go of your hand and touched the end of the veil’s fabric, holding it between his fingers. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, quietly. You held your breath and stayed still, not moving a muscle as he slowly started to lift the veil, giving you plenty of time to tell him to stop. It wasn’t until the fabric was fully off of your face that the fear of him turning away in disgust or horror fell over you. He was looking at, looking at what your fiance had done in his successful murder attempt. While you had no idea what you truly looked like, you knew the placement of every cut and groove. You knew it was unsightly and you couldn’t blame Trevor if he pulled the veil right back down over your head, just as your fiance had done after the deed was done.

You waited in thick anticipation, fear encroaching on the corners of your mind. But, Trevor did nothing you feared he would.

His lips pulled upwards in a smile, bright and warm, as he held onto the sides of your face. “Hi,” he said, seeing you for the first time really.

“Hello,” you replied.

[myusuchaa]

Ikemen Villains: Ghost House Report - Elbert Greetia 100K Love Points Story

from the 2024 summer story event

FYI has themes of afterlife, spiritual, some r18 stuff

this is a fan translation. i do not own anything. Cybird reserves all ownership to in-game content.

₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

This mansion, which is rumored to be haunted, might be the base of criminal activity.

We came to investigate as part of Crown’s mission.

I chose to work with Lord Elbert. It was within minutes of starting the investigation that I realized this place was truly haunted.

Elbert: Kate, be careful where you step. It seems the floorboards are aging and have become brittle.

Kate: Thank you very much Lord Elbert.. but.. more importantly….

Every time he advances down the hallway, a ghost approaches him.

Ghost of a woman with braids: My… what a beautiful man.

Ghost of a guy with mustache: Ah, yes… that melancholy profile… I can hardly take it.

Ghost of a thin woman: More.. to be.. by your side…

It’s hard to believe, but Elbert’s beauty seems to attract even ghosts.

(So many ghosts…. It’s scary..)

(But I can’t say that out loud. I have to keep an eye on him until the end of the mission so that nothing bad happens to him.)

In contrast to myself - who was incredibly nervous next to him - Elbert moved down the hall gracefully, despite there being so many ghosts surrounding him.

We stopped at the door of the innermost room when he turned to me.

Elbert: Kate, why don’t you start searching each room one by one?

Kate: Uh.. E-.. Lord Elbert.. there are so many ghosts.

Kate: Are you feeling sick in any way?

(Something strange was bound to happen with the ghosts being so clingy.)

Elbert: Ah… at this moment, nothing in particular.

He looks at me and suddenly smiles.

Elbert: There’s no need to worry. I’m used to being surrounded like this.

Elbert: What’s more, ghosts don’t have shadows. I don’t have to worry about stepping on them.

Elbert: It makes it easier to move than usual… it feels nice.

Kate: Heheh… that is true.

(No matter who he is surrounded by, he’s always wary of making the other party sad.)

His kind smile makes me smile too.

Elbert: … I’m glad you smiled.

Elbert took my hand in his.

Elbert: I’m here with you… you’ll be okay.

Kate: Ah… thank you, Lord Elbert.

(He was also concerned about me being scared of the ghosts.)

I’ve been saved by his smile.

(I still need to be vigilant, but since he’s with me, I don’t have to be so scared.)

After seeing that I calmed down, Elbert stopped and opened the door to the room in front of us.

Then-

-a man and woman standing in the center of the bedroom turned to look at us at the same time.

(!! There’s people in a place like this?!)

(Wait— no… they’re also ghosts.)

Their outlines are a bit more distinct than others, but if you look closely you could tell they were slightly transparent.

It’s an out of body experience.

Sexy woman ghost: Oh?? Why you’re so… so beautiful!

Ghost of young man: Finally, I’m glad to see you.

Elbert: ……………

(Although I’m no longer surprised by seeing ghosts… they speak as if they were waiting to see him.)

Sexy woman ghost: All my waiting was worth it to enjoy this!

The eyes of the woman ghost were sparkling at Elbert.

Kate: !!

Elbert: Eh…

Elbert was unable to move, as if he was in a bind.

The ghosts following us suddenly burst forth.

Ghost of a woman with braids: Oooh!! He has such a beautiful figure too!

Ghost of man with mustache: Aaa, aah aaaahhh..!!! I can look at you forever! I must draw you in this!!

Ghost of a thin woman: Ahhh you must join us!

Sexy woman ghost: Hah.. hmm, the ghosts of this mansion are quite lovely aren’t they?

Sexy woman ghost: A human as beautiful as a bisque doll, huh..

Sexy woman ghost: But humans eventually grow old, their bodies decay, right?

Sexy woman ghost: Though the soul.. the soul remains unchanged no matter how many decades pass!

Sexy woman ghost: Why, look at me! I’m as beautiful as ever!

The ghost of that woman who was pleading to him slowly approaches Elbert and whispers seductively in his ear.

Sexy woman ghost: That’s why… you should stay here..

Sexy woman ghost: Would you like to keep that beautiful figure…. and have fun with us?

Kate: Wh- what did you say…

Ghost of young man: Don’t you understand?

A male ghost suddenly cuts in.

Ghost of young man: This woman is right. No matter how beautiful you are, human bodies have a physical limit..

Ghost of young man: If you become like us… you can be with the person you love forever.

Ghost of young man: Isn’t that right, my love?

Sexy woman ghost: Indeed, my soul is unchanging- my love is unchanging!

Sexy woman ghost: Be with the one you love for all eternity!… there is no greater happiness!!

Elbert: The one I love… to be with them forever… an unchanging..love…

Elbert: ……..with Kate…….. forever…….

Elbert: ……….it may be nice.

Kate: Elbert?!-

I felt an unusual presence, and suddenly the room filled with more ghosts.

(What? Ghosts from all over the mansion have come to this room?)

Sexy woman ghost: Heh.. if it’s been decided then..

Sexy woman ghost: ..would you like to join us now?

With that statement as the signal, ghosts emerged from all angles.

It was as if all of them were welcoming in a friend.

Elbert: !….

All the ghosts cling to Elbert, and before I knew it our hands were torn apart.

Kate: Aah!!

The ghosts piled on top of each other around him like one huge mass.

Elbert stood in the center of them, completely covered.

Kate: No!! I don’t want that, you can’t do this! You can’t take him!

I jumped into the mass of spirits, and desperately grasp for Elbert.

My arms reach around him as he stands there, swaying.

Elbert: ..Kate!

Elbert’s gaze met my eyes with a startled look.

Ghost of young man: Ah, of course you too.

Kate: !!!!

(Shit! I’ll become a spirit too!)

Ghost of young man: You’re going to spend eternity with him. Aren’t you happy?

(……ha.. that may make me happy, but not like this… )

(I can’t let it happen.)

It felt like the very core of my body was being sucked into a vacuum.

I felt myself losing consciousness but tried to stay awake with all my might.

Kate: …E..El-…. El… Elbert..

— even if my resistance was futile

These arms that are holding him… I’ll never let go.

Elbert: ……………

Elbert: … I have no intention of becoming your “friend”.

Kate: !

Elbert: I ….. want to spend my time with Kate in this world.

Elbert: Kate, I …… I can feel the warmth of your hands.. in this world.

Kate: -Elbert!!

He casts a sharp gaze at the ghost lovers.

Elbert: So please… stop this.

Sexy woman ghost/ghost of young man: Kyaah-!/ Wha-?!

With those words from Elbert’s voice, the ghosts were blown back by a terrible force.

At the same time, the pile of spirits that became one body began to disintegrate.

Mass of spirits: !! ~

As soon as the screams of the ghosts disappeared, the room fell silent.

Ghost of young man: Tch, well, well….

The ghost form of the young man had come back together by the side of the woman ghost.

Ghost of young man: It seems they like it as they are.

The man smiled mischievously and fell against the desk.

The woman puffed out her cheeks at this remark.

Sexy woman ghost: Hmmph.. pfft, and here I thought I’d have fun doing this and that with such a beautiful person.

Kate: ! ?

Ghost of young man: ..You wouldn’t have any fun anyway if you forced someone to join, would you? Besides…. you have me.

Sexy woman ghost: Ah.. yes. Can you satisfy me today, too?

Ghost of young man: Why of course. Let’s go to the next room.

Sexy woman ghost: Hehe…. Well. You two take your time.

The woman shoots a sultry look at the man before they disappear into the white walls.

The room fills with silence once again.

Kate: …what in the world just happened?…

Elbert: ….. I don’t know. But..

Elbert hugs me tightly.

(Ah-)

Elbert: We’re certainly still alive, I'm here.

Kate: ….Elbert

My anxieties and fear welled up as I buried my face in his chest.

In response, his arms wrapped around me stronger.

Kate: I’m so glad you’re safe.

Kate: I wondered what to do if you did become interested in being a ghost.

Elbert: …..I’m sorry I made you worry.

Elbert: …Being with you forever, a future like that….. it is one of my wishes. So I did consider it.

Elbert: But just then, I felt your touch… and I decided not to choose that.

Kate: From my touch?

Elbert: Your hand that touched me was so warm.

Elbert: Your warmth which I love.

Elbert: The moments that you hold me and love me…. I can’t let go of them.

When I saw him smile, I felt even warmer.

Elbert: I feel like it’s a shame I missed the chance to be with you forever….

Elbert: I haven’t given up on that sentiment though… I’ll keep searching for a way.

Elbert: I will forever seek out everything that concerns you.

Kate: Elbert…

(Looking for a way to stay with me forever is the same as continuing to seek my existence.)

I will gladly answer his greedy calling with all my being.

Elbert: … Kate.

Elbert: I want to feel more of your warmth.

Sea-blue eyes laced with heat start to approach me-

Kate: Nn-…

His moist lips meet mine, and he slips his tongue inside.

The silence in the room was painted over by the sound of water as we sought each other's bodies.

With a thud my back slammed against the wall, I felt his palm trace upwards on my thigh, sliding under my dress hem.

Kate: Unn… El… Elbert..

Elbert: Your facial expressions, your voice…. give me everything.

Kate: Aah-

One of my legs was suddenly lifted—

A hot and throbbing, swollen feeling was pressed against my sensitive spot, moistened with anticipation.

(I can feel him… his heat.. his essence.)

Elbert: At this moment….. I want to steal your beautiful self, I want to take you away…

I give in to the pulsating heat and his dripping breath-

-and lost myself in a beautiful dream.

—

I tried to support my back, which was feeling weak.

As I was leaning against Elbert for support, trying to catch my breath:

Sexy woman ghost: …ah hehehehe… you showed me something nice indeed.

Kate: UH!???

The ghost of the woman from earlier was peaking through the wall, only half of her body was visible.

(They…. They saw??!!?!)

Elbert: ….. you’re still here.

Ghost of young man: Oh we just wanted to make sure you guys were satisfied.

The ghost pops out of the wall.

(Even.. a man… saw..)

I feel so embarrassed I simply want to disappear.

Sexy woman ghost: ……ahhh I’m jealous of you. Heyyy, I want to feel you toooo.

She says this as she turns to the male ghost.

Sexy woman ghost: I want to make passionate love to you just like these young kids.

Ghost of young man: If that is your wish…. Shall we go to the next life?

Sexy woman ghost: To meet you again…. I’ll definitely find you. That’s my promise.

Ghost of young man: Ah, of course.. I will find you. That is my promise as well.

The two forms become one, and they shine brighter in that moment.

Then, they were gone.

Suddenly the air in the room becomes lighter.

Kate: ….. this means they.. passed on?

Elbert: Mm, most likely…

(The words of that woman had deeply swayed me. It seems certain that they truly desire each other.)

Kate: Those two… I hope they can find and love each other in the next life.

Elbert: …. Ah. I hope so.

As he said that, a kiss fell on my neck. The heat within me stirred.

Kate: Nn! Lord Elbert!….. we’re still on a mission…

(Because just a while ago… I was so caught up by him..)

Elbert: …even on missions, I need to take breaks.

I tried to gently push him off, but it led nowhere. He kissed me on the nape of my neck, then on my cheeks.

An achingly sweet feeling arises.

Elbert: You look beautiful even when you’re troubled like this. I can’t get enough of you.

Elbert: I want you as you are now.

Kate: Nn..

My lips were bitten, stolen without asking.

(I feel the same as you.)

Eventually we may end up like those ghosts, in a world I don’t know, two spirits as one.

(So while I’m still alive… while I’m in this body… I want to feel his skin, his warmth, to the fullest.)

Intertwining, mind and soul, savoring each other’s existence.

We’ll enjoy this lifetime, together.

₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

[belovedmusings]

It’s just nerves.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Part one of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, car sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: You Right (Doja Cat, The Weeknd), nasty (Ariana Grande), West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: okay, hear me out. these two are an alt boy duo that i would not mind being tag-teamed by so…here tf we go. This was gonna be a one shot but I live for drama so there’ll be multiple parts.

Read below the cut:

Choso’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as you drive towards the location of his audition.

He’s been looking for his place in a new band ever since his previous one broke up a few months ago, and he’d seen that the city’s most popular up-and-coming band Curse Manipulation posted an ad in need of a guitarist on their Instagram. The two of you like some of their music though you aren’t overly familiar with the band, so he figured it would be a no-brainer to audition.

You know he’s going to be accepted. Choso is an amazing guitarist, and he writes beautiful lyrics, too. Not to mention the haunting voice he can sing with.

You have complete faith in your boyfriend, and he is very aware of your support, and yet he’s still an endearing ball of nerves beside you.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on his thigh as you reach a red stoplight, easing onto the brake. You give him a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great, babe. I know it.”

He smiles half-convincingly at you, which in him is really just a twitch of the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but reach up and lovingly cup his chin between your thumb and index.

“I’ll be right there with you. So you don’t need to worry.”

He sighs, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the light turns green, allowing you to continue on your drive.

“Thanks,” his voice is quiet. “I just…really do like their sound. The more I think of it, the more I can see myself playing with them. I just hope they agree.”

“They will,” you say surely. “After it’s over, wanna get some McDonald’s? I think there’s a McFlurry with your name on it.”

He chuckles softly and nods. “Sure. That sounds good.”

You flash a grin as you turn onto the next street, entering a residential area with houses nicer than you were expecting. They aren’t mansions, but as you drive through, they’re definitely nicer than yours and Choso’s humble apartment.

“Huh. Didn’t know they made this much money already,” You think aloud, and he shifts beside you, also looking out of the window.

“I read about them a little,” Choso tells you, “Their bassist is a songwriter that’s pretty well-known in alternative music, apparently.”

“Yeah?” You ask, impressed. “So this guy’s a big shot?”

“Kinda,” Choso laughs breathily. “Honestly, I think that’s why I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous that he’s a professional? A little intimidated?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Could be,” he admits. “I mean, I know that I’m a good player, so that’s not it entirely. It’s just that if I do get put in the band, things’ll change. They’re gaining popularity, and with the experience he has, the band’s definitely going to get somewhere.”

You hum. “That sounds great. You’ve always wanted to do this as a career—and your stuff deserves to be heard, baby. Maybe you’re more excited than nervous.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “It’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable,” you reply, “It’s okay to be nervous. Auditions are scary as hell. But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get in there, you’re gonna play and blow them away, then we’ll get ourselves some delicious fast food and relax at home.”

He smiles softly at you, and you return it before looking back out of the windshield, seeing your destination approaching. You slow to a stop on the curb at the side of the house, shifting the car into park.

“All right,” You say. “We’re here. Ready?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

—-

A tall, pale man in a white muscle tank-top and baggy sweats greets the two of you at the door with a smile.

“Hi, you must be Choso,” He shakes hands with your boyfriend, “Suguru said you’d be coming. I’m Larue, the band’s drummer.”

“Hey,” greets Choso with his trademark small-smile, “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s this beauty you brought with you?” Larue asks, directing his attention to you.

You shake hands with Larue as you introduce yourself as Choso's significant other.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him your name. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Oh, of course,” Larue insists. “Come on in. The studio’s down the hall. Just leave your shoes by the door.”

He lets you two into the house, allowing you a chance to look around while you remove your shoes. It looks rather modern and minimal as a structure but the furniture has an eclectic, almost gothic feel to it, green plants livening up the space. It smells pleasant as well—like fresh juniper.

“This way,” Larue gestures to follow him, so you and your boyfriend do, your hand slipping into Choso’s to offer him comfort. He gives your hand a little pulse and you do one in reply as Larue leads you down the hallway, stopping at the door at the end. “Here we are.”

He pushes it open and enters, calling out to the occupants in the room. “Choso’s here for his audition!”

Choso enters first and you follow, entering the cozy studio, lit warmly with lamps, the floor covered in patchwork rugs, a sofa on one end across from a mixing board, and behind that, glass panes that lead to the sound booth, a room that houses the band’s instruments and equipment. Honestly, you’re impressed—you had no clue this band was so serious about their music. It makes your chest swirl with pride. This is the perfect chance for Choso’s talent to finally be recognized.

“Hey there, it’s nice to meet you in person,” a voice pulls you out of your appraisal and back towards the mixing board, where a man sits in a chair, smiling at your boyfriend. As soon as you look at him, his eyes meet yours, and you swear a little shock of electricity runs through you at that exact moment. His eyes flash with something indistinguishable. “I’m Suguru Geto. Bassist and frontman.”

Oh. He’s the singer, too? The bassist? That’s a little unusual, but it’s cool. He’s cool. He has gauges that are framed by long, dark hair, placid and gentle dark eyes, a pretty nose, smooth-looking lips with strong cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. You can’t ignore the piercings he has on his face, one over his left eyebrow, thin silver hoops adorning his bottom lip in snake bites. Tattoos peak up from his collarbone under his black crew neck, and you trace your gaze down to his hands, fingers free of tattoos but the back of his hands themselves inked up, chunky silver rings making up for the empty room on his dexterous digits instead.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous.

His eyes don’t leave you as he says, “who is this angel you brought with you?”

Choso’s hand on yours tightens, bringing you back to yourself. You manage a smile, trying to ignore your racing heart. You stutter as you answer him, cementing yourself as Choso's.

When you tell Suguru your name, and he repeats it, a smile stretches across his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ah, and this is Miguel, our keyboards.”

He gestures to the man leaning against the wall in sunglasses, gold hoops handing from his ears. He smiles and waves. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replies Choso, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Choso, you wanna set up with the amp over there?” Suguru points to the wall near the couch, and your boyfriend nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smile at him again, rubbing his arm gently before moving over to the sofa to sit beside Larue on the opposite end. Miguel takes a seat in the chair beside him as Choso sets about getting his guitar from its case, your eyes gravitating back towards the black hole in the room sitting at the mixing board.

You find his calculating eyes already on you, and instead of looking away at being caught, the corner of his mouth turns up. It makes you feel warm all over.

“So,” Larue speaks, cutting through the silence. “How long have you been playing, Choso?”

“I taught myself when I was thirteen,” He answers, taking the chord plugged into the amp and pushing the other end into his guitar. “I joined my band when I was fifteen, but it split because the others wanted to do their own things.”

“Ah,” Miguel chimes in, “That sucks. Everybody’s gotta be on the same page.”

“Yeah, but I really liked being in a band, so hopefully this goes well,” Choso smiles softly, standing up to sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. He checks to make sure the volume on the amp is down before switching it on, experimentally strumming at a few strings until the volume is at a good level.

“All set?” Asks Suguru, and Choso nods.

“Yeah. I really like ‘Love to the Strong’ so I’ll do that one.”

That was one of your favorites of Curse Manipulator. You and Choso listen to it a lot, and you’ve heard him play it before. He was able to figure it out just by listening, once again putting you in awe of him. You know he has this in the bag.

His black-painted nails form the first chord and he starts strumming, effortlessly switching to the next one and the next, starting to sing along like it’s second nature. You watch him with shimmering eyes. Whenever he plays, you can’t help but see him for the star he truly is. Everything about him is just so unique, so special. What had drawn you to him was his appearance, how unapologetically he expresses himself in what he wears, the spiky style he wears his hair up in, the tattoo across the bridge of his nose, the heavy eyeliner around his eyes…you even think about the tattoo of your name he’d gotten over his heart for your birthday in beautiful black lettering, one of many presents to you that day, and your heart flutters.

Wanting to read the room to see how the others are reacting, you look at Miguel first. He’s nodding his head along, brow furrowed with a smile on his lips. Good. He’s enjoying it. You look at Larue next, who is tapping along to the beat with his hand on his thigh quietly, dividing it even further with his foot.

Last, your eyes move to Suguru, who is moving in time with Choso’s playing, nodding with his chin in his hand. He seems to feel your eyes on his, because he meets your gaze in the next moment. That smirk finds its way on his face again, playful, and you feel your heart hammer hard against your rib cage involuntarily. Without looking away from you, he lets his index finger rest between his lips, tongue pushing against it just so you see the black ball of jewelry at the center of it.

Fuck. A tongue piercing.

A deluge of very lewd, very intrusive thoughts slam into you without your permission. What would his snake bites and tongue piercing feel like if you kissed him? Or if he tried sucking a hickey into your neck? How would his mouth feel around one of your nipples? Or, shit, how would it feel eating you out? Does he know how to use that little bead to his advantage? Would he use it to make you fall apart?

The song finishes and Larue’s enthusiastic cheers yank you from your wanton musings, dragging your eyes from Suguru’s poetic face back to your boyfriend.

Choso smiles at you, eyes searching for approval, for assurance that he did well, and you nod without thinking, a smile spreading over your face as you push the thoughts of Suguru down. You can compartmentalize them later—right now, you need to be a supportive partner. Relief washes over his face.

“That was great,” Suguru says, all business again, “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you be interested in doing toplines and backing vocals also?"

Choso nods. “Yeah, that sounds great. I uh, I write too. If you ever wanted to collaborate.”

“He’s really good,” you add, hoping the blush you feel when Suguru’s gaze finds yours again isn’t noticeable. He smiles at you and it makes you so warm, so nervous.

“That’s great,” He says, glancing back at your boyfriend. “Choso, I know it was a short audition, but I think we can all agree that you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

You see Choso’s face light up, nuanced to most but so obvious to you, and you grin brightly. You knew it.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Miguel voices his agreement. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome!” is Larue’s input.

Suguru flits his eyes to you again. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Choso doesn’t see where he’s looking though, because he’s smiling at you, but you do see it, and you feel all sorts of emotions.

Suguru wants you. He’s made it obvious enough already, and that fact plays with your sanity levels a disturbing amount. You have Choso. You love Choso. You see yourself staying with him forever, because he makes you happy, and he makes you feel safe and taken care of. You trust him with your life and he’s never done anything to even waver that trust. You have never looked at another man like this the entire time you’ve been with Choso, either.

So why now all of a sudden is a simple glance from Suguru threatening to put you on your knees? What is going on with you?

“Thank you guys,” Choso speaks, oblivious to the turmoil inside of your head, “I’ll do my best.”

Suguru stands up and pats his shoulder. Oh fuck. He’s tall, shoulders wide—he’s intimidating. He looks like he could toss you around like a pillow. Choso’s build is nothing to sneeze at, but Suguru is just…huge. You silently beg for any god listening to take pity on you and force you to calm down.

“Come on, let’s all relax in the living room with some tea and get to know everyone better,” Suguru suggests, looking at you, “How does that sound?”

You have half a mind to run out of the house right now to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like jumping Suguru’s bones on the spot. Instead, you force a smile on your face.

“Sounds good.”

It’s an hour of soft torture on Suguru’s couch. You’re sandwiched between Choso and the arm of the blue velvet sofa, Larue on his other side. Miguel sits in a matching chair off to the right, and in the other one, directly to your left sits Suguru.

It’s obscene the way his legs are spread out, open like he has a third one in the middle and he needs room for it, and that thought keeps repeating in your head, contributing to the worst hurricane that’s ever ravished the shores of your mind.

His arms are no better, elbows perched on either of the chair’s arms, pelvis forward as he slinks lazily. He’d made tea for everyone when you went into the living room and when he handed you your mug, his fingertips brushed yours and it made you feel like a shy teenager with a crush.

You try really hard not to stare at him but your eyes keep gravitating. He’s leading the conversation, and a fair amount of questions have to do with you. You have no choice but to look at him. And fuck, you don’t mind, he’s sentient art. It should be punishable by law how sinfully his pierced lips wrap around the mug to sip at the tea. At one point while you’re talking about what you do for a living, Choso’s watching you as you talk. Since his eyes aren’t on Suguru, it gives the man a free-pass to test your patience. A drop of tea accidentally slides down the side of his mouth and he flicks his tongue out to lick it, stud glinting at you, and you fucking feel yourself start to get wet.

You tear your eyes away from him after stuttering, finishing your sentence and lifting the cup to your lips to give yourself something else to focus on.

Whenever he looks at you, you can just feel it. You feel it like when you stand too close to fire, heat just threatening to burn your skin, and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to get fucked.

Wow, you think, real nice. You’re disappointed in yourself. You just met this man and he has this much control over your body? He hasn’t even really touched you.

Choso didn’t even have this effect on you. It was a pair assignment in a class you two had together that started it. He was quiet and frankly looked bored most of the time. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, or to ask you something about your assignments. When you were told you had to work with each other for the final, you two grew closer over meetings at cafes while you worked. You remember the first time you made him laugh. It was music to your ears, and it made your heart flutter. That’s when you started having feelings for him.

Everything he did after that was endearing. You started noticing that he would ask you more questions than necessary just to talk with you, you noticed he’d find reasons to prolong your meetings when you worked together, and he’d even pay for the food or drinks you’d order while working. He liked you, and you liked him back, and he was just so pure in his intentions, you fell even harder.

The night before the final was due, you were over at his place to practice. You’d been there a few times, as he’d been at yours too, and after polishing the project, you decided you two needed a break. You saw his guitar sitting against the wall and asked him to play something. He was hesitant, but ultimately couldn’t deny you, so he sat across from you and started strumming and singing a song you’d never heard before.

It was beautiful. The lyrics would put Hozier to shame. You suspected it was an original, too. You were probably biased, but hell, at that moment you knew he was someone you couldn’t let go of.

When he finished, he confirmed that he’d written it himself. You told him whoever he wrote it about was really lucky, and that if it was you, you’d fall in love with him immediately.

That was you opening the door, and he walked through it with earnest eyes and a hopeful smile.

He’s been your boyfriend since, and he’s made you so happy.

Remembering how you met Choso helps a lot to mitigate the damage Suguru is doing to your psyche, and to keep yourself strong, you don’t look at Suguru again. You fix your eyes on the mug, and a little after the tea is finished, you and Choso decide to go home.

Suguru sees you out after Larue takes care of your mugs, Miguel bidding you a farewell before he makes his way back to the studio. You get your shoes back on, hearing Choso express his gratitude again and agree to return tomorrow so that they can start rehearsing for their next gig.

“It was really nice to meet you.”

Suguru’s eyes are suddenly on yours again and it’s as if that flame that had been reduced to a steady, barely noticeable simmer roars back to life on high. He really is so fucking, damningly pretty.

“You too,” you manage with what you hope is a convincingly easy smile. He holds his palm out to shake hands, and your heart jumps in your ribcage. You fear touching him might rouse a beast within you that you previously had no knowledge of.

Out of courtesy and the obligation to uphold social cues, you lay your hand in his. His palm is warm. His fingers feel rough and firm, no doubt hardened due to his years playing bass. His skin looks nice against yours, you think intelligently, and before he lets go, he gives your hand a strong squeeze. Had you been any less of a person you would have buckled with your newly weakened knees. He has a strong grip.

What on you would he grab like that? Your thigh? Your ass? Your hips? Fuck, your neck?

Your smile tapers at the sheer indecency of your thoughts as he lets go, and you absentmindedly smile at him to try and save face, turning to follow your boyfriend out of the house and down the driveway.

“Get home safely!” Suguru calls behind you, and you hear Choso reply in kind. You can’t muster a response. Your whole body is buzzing. It feels like there are two wolves literally fighting for dominance inside of you. One of them is urging you to go home, to calm the hell down and maybe take out all of your newfound frustration on Choso.

The other one, however, is clawing at your back, trying to drag you back towards Suguru so that you can jump him and fuck him right in the front room of his house.

Obscene. Filthy. You need to get out of here. Who are you?

You make it to the car, but after Choso puts his guitar in the backseat, you hesitate before the driver’s seat.

“Babe?” You ask, and he looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, moving around to meet you at the driver’s side of the car. You hand him the keys, but refuse to move. He tilts his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, unsure of who you’re trying to convince. You’re so torn right now. You feel so guilty for looking at another man the way you did tonight, but you’re also still so fucking horny and your angel of a boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

You decide to make a very lust-induced decision.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?” He puts his hand on your shoulder in concern. “What is it?”

He’s so fucking sweet. It warms your heart but you need something more, something crazy.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes widen, and you can practically hear his heart stutter. He blinks, face reddening. “Well…when we get home, we can—”

“Right here, Choso.”

Another blink. He has no idea where this is coming from—you’ve never acted like this. Sex stays at home, in private.

“…right here? Right now?” He asks, looking around. It’s dark out now, the neighborhood lit up dimly by streetlights staggered up and down the sidewalks. “Outside?”

“In the car,” you say. That’s private enough, right? It should be. He swallows thickly.

“Are…are you sure? What if we get caught?”

You just want it so badly right now. You stretch the truth to get what you desire.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you say, heart feeling heavy. “You did so well today—you deserve it, baby.”

He smiles bashfully at the praise, scratching behind his neck. “I only did because you were here…I can wait until we get back. Don’t worry.”

It’s not working. God damn it.

You make a last-ditch effort.

“I know you can,” you say, getting in his space and touching his chest. Lowly, you add, “But I don’t think I can.”

His dark eyes widen again, an unsure smile twitching at his lips. “You want me that bad?”

It’s starting to work. “Yeah. Please, babe? Unless it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” he quickly shakes his head, “Let’s do it. Where do we…?”

You spring into action.

Your hand goes for the lever on the side of the driver’s seat, pulling it and reclining it all the way back.

“Sit, baby. I’ll ride you.”

He sucks in a breath and does as told, getting in the car and watching as you follow, shutting and locking the door behind yourself.

You straddle his legs and kiss him without a moment to waste, threading your hands in his hair. He reciprocates easily, sighing when he feels you pull the hair ties out to let his dark brown locks fall free. His hands find your waist as you start grinding on him to get him hard, relishing in the soft noises it starts to pull from him within minutes.

You think for a moment that this is crazy. You’re actually going to fuck Choso in a car. It is a little dangerous, but that excites you. You’re just so fucking turned on because of that infuriatingly gorgeous bassist…

Choso moans when you grind harder, his hand slipping up the leg of the denim shorts you’re wearing and past your underwear, finding you to be drenched.

“You really did want this,” he laughs breathily, and you feel another pang of guilt. He’s feeling the result of miniscule attention from Suguru. Sick. It’s sick.

You can’t do this to Choso. You need to focus on him. This is happening between the two of you and no one else.

“I did,” you choose to smile back. “Let me have it now, baby?”

He sucks in a slow breath and nods, pupils blown, reaching down to unzip his jeans. You help, popping the button and reaching down to free him from his boxers.

He’s hot and firm in your grasp and you can’t help but stroke him a few times, enjoying the groans it pulls from his throat.

Painfully aware of your own arousal, you decide not to tease him anymore and shift, lining him up with your entrance. Just like that, with all of your clothes still on, you slip him inside, moaning at the relief the pressure of his girth provides your needy walls.

His hands stay on your hips as you start bouncing on him, his brows furrowing, eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breathing ragged and erratic. You hear the wet noises obscenely in the small space, covering his shaft with your essence, and you roll your hips, teasing his tip against the sensitive spot inside of you.

“Choso,” you hiss, aiming there. Recognizing you found it, he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, heightening your pleasure. You throw your head back, mouth falling open. “Oh god baby, yes…”

His eyes flutter shut and you start riding him faster, his jaw clenching as he bites down. A strained grunt escapes with his voice, neck veins protruding, and you move your hands before thinking, wrapping them around his neck.

He groans louder as you apply a tiny amount of pressure, voice switching and going higher. You’re thoroughly wrecking your boyfriend now and it’s making your mound practically weep over his cock, uncaring that the car is rocking with your movements.

Your eyes flit to the side out of the window, and what you see punches heat into your gut so hard you gasp.

Suguru is standing on the balcony of what must be his bedroom, looking right into the window of your car at you, and only you.

He’s holding something between his fingers that looks like a cigarette, smirking down at you as he leans his cheek against his palm. Keep going, his eyes say.

You don’t dare disobey him. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind. You ride Choso even harder, getting the head of his throbbing cock to hammer against the most sensitive part of your insides.

You chance a glance down at Choso, who is still lost in a world of his own, eyes squeezed shut, and you look back up at Suguru, who is taking a drag.

He blows out smoke and it makes you clench hard around Choso.

“Fuck,” moans your boyfriend, “M’close, so close…”

You are too. The cock inside of you is so good, the friction of your shorts on your pearl is starting to overwhelm you, and Suguru watching you with absolutely zero shame is twisting your instincts into knots.

He corrupts you with dirty thoughts just by looking at you.

If it were him, the moment you’d asked to fuck, he probably would have pushed you into the backseat. You’d have been on your hands and knees, or maybe laid out on your back as he railed you so disrespectfully you’d feel him trying to invade your ribs. He’d call you all sorts of names, degrade you for being a slut, for not being able to wait.

You moan louder, feeling so close you’re about to lose your mind. Choso mewls beneath you, voice becoming lost to the whimpers he gets only when he cums.

“Baby, baby,” his voice rings out, “Fuck, I’m cumming…”

You feel it spill inside of you and as soon as Suguru’s smirk deepens, his head tilting as if to say ‘go on’, you orgasm hard.

“Oh fuck!”

Choso grunts as you clamp down on his sensitive member, slowing his thrusts to a stop as you pant heavily. You see Suguru grin and straighten up, lingering his gaze for a moment longer before turning and leaving you alone with Choso once more.

Now without the object of your forbidden desires, you slump forward, laying over Choso’s chest. You kiss his sweaty neck lovingly, embracing him tightly as the post-coital clarity starts seeping back into your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you, Choso.”

You do. You love him. Suguru is just a fantasy and he’s going to stay that way. You’re happy with Choso and that’s the end of the story. You’ll just have to avoid Suguru and everything will be fine.

“I love you too,” He replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Always.”

You close your eyes, biting back a heavy sigh.

I’m so sorry, you want to say, but resolve to make it up to him by just being a better partner to him than you have been, though he’s never complained. You’re not going to let this new infatuation take root.

What you don’t know is that this is only the beginning.

---

Please don't repost or translate! Feel free to reblog/share it you liked it.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie I'm so excited for this, I have so much hot drama planned you're gonna love it. Comment to be added to my taglist for when the next parts come out!

[prettyboykatsuki]

CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district. 

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a  not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy. 

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy. 

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it. 

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside. 

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice. 

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before. 

The search process for Japanese property could range  anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles. 

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh. 

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell. 

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax. 

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch. 

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out. 

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again. 

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside. 

It’s a beautiful house. 

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again. 

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought. 

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them. 

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder. 

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in. 

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here. 

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window. 

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you. 

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.” 

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you. 

There’s something about him. 

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh. 

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.” 

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.” 

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at  - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city. 

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him. 

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance. 

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything. 

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it. 

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens. 

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.” 

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?” 

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed. 

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.” 

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house. 

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?” 

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does. 

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.” 

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask. 

“Rough childhood, then?” 

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight. 

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real. 

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles. 

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.” 

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything.  He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at. 

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?” 

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.” 

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?” 

You give him a tight lipped smile. 

“Of course,” 

__ 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it. 

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely  comfortable in overstaying his welcome. 

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink. 

“Cheers to our hard work,” 

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.” 

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label. 

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him. 

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.” 

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again. 

“Is that so?” 

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,” 

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him. 

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.” 

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer. 

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.” 

__ 

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city. 

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition. 

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet. 

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life. 

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water. 

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it. 

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?) 

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe. 

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners. 

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt. 

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.) 

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him. 

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability. 

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for. 

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock. 

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his. 

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression. 

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling. 

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face. 

“Hi neighbor,” 

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,” 

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” 

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere. 

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.” 

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.” 

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.” 

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying. 

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?” 

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can. 

“I do, actually.  Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.” 

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes. 

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.” 

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.” 

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of  a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.” 

“No need to trouble them.” 

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,” 

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset. 

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,” 

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship. 

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that. 

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat. 

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach. 

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,” 

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.” 

__ 

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

 An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises. 

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize. 

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best. 

But  in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate. 

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you. 

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu. 

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you. 

The first is the way they describe Hawks. 

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted. 

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one. 

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity. 

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea. 

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased. 

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be. 

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand. 

Then there is the other thing. 

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here. 

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them. 

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy. 

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity. 

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions? 

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself. 

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark. 

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you.  You have to know or it'll swallow you up. 

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it. 

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks  waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know. 

You need to know for sure. 

_

It rains. 

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early. 

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down. 

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready. 

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat. 

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always. 

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go.  Both of these you believe with full conviction. 

But you go. You go. 

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk. 

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line. 

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive. 

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours. 

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat. 

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer. 

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does. 

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you. 

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head. 

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.” 

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you. 

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,” 

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,” 

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,” 

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came. 

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests. 

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house. 

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,” 

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,” 

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.” 

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.” 

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall. 

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.” 

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?” 

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,” 

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.” 

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,” 

You frown at him. 

“...Thanks for the offer,” 

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile. 

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.” 

__ 

They’re not what you expect. 

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do. 

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system. 

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.  

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction. 

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him. 

The last person you meet is Touya. 

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

 Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once. 

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites. 

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless. 

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed. 

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions. 

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would. 

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems. 

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone. 

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides. 

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

 The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate. 

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you. 

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,” 

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,” 

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks. 

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?” 

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring  him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.” 

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,” 

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,” 

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?” 

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,” 

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,” 

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike. 

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight. 

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately. 

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat. 

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,” 

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom. 

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it. 

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that. 

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm. 

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself. 

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.” 

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you. 

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats. 

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully. 

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat. 

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,” 

You clear your throat. 

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?” 

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.” 

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything. 

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated. 

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke. 

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion. 

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act. 

You don’t know which things he wants more. 

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you. 

You nearly scream. 

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run. 

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running. 

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?” 

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,” 

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you. 

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening. 

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.” 

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows. 

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.” 

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it. 

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?” 

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.” 

He pulls his hand away from you. 

“What do you want from me?” 

Hawks looks surprised then laughs. 

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding. 

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound. 

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up. 

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“There’s no way  I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.” 

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is.  “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.” 

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.” 

He shakes his head. 

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can. 

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive. 

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy. 

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe. 

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”