#AND HE LEAVES THE DOOR WIDE OPEN WHEN SHE LEAVES

[bluem1lls]

Hi! Could you do a fluff Se-mi one shot? Unfortunately I don’t really have any prompt to give you but I think a out of squid game AU would be pretty cool! Like it could be when they first met, or first date sm like that!

I would really appreciate it if you write it, but if not that’s absolutely fine! I hope you have an amazing day! <3

headcanons gf! se-mi

✦ synopsis: never let your annoying best friends to stop you from finding your girlfriend!

tw: a bit of nsfw

authors note: hiii im sorry for the no update, work is killing me but here's this! i hope u like it💓 tysm for the requests!

-> se-mi, who you've met because of a close friends hangout.

"would it be okay if i bring se-mi?" min su asked as i passed the joint to thanos.

"is she cute?" nam gyu asked.

"she's a lesbian" min-su answered with a chuckle.

"oh?" i said as i pay more attention to the conversation.

"she's probably not your type tho, you're so picky" min su said rolling his eyes as i scoffed.

-> se-mi, who was totally your type.

when you two met, you bonded immediately, laughing and smoking together as the other three were sitting on the couch staring.

"what about us man? when it's our turn?" nam-gyu said, watching as she said something that made you blush.

thanos and min su shook their head as they kept smoking.

"i bet i can drink more than you" she said as you laughed. "wanna bet?" she said with a smirk. "if i win, i get your number"

no need. two shots in and you were giving her your number no matter what.

-> se-mi, who texted you while you were passed out on nam gyu's bed as he was sprawled on the floor with thanos's arm around him.

you tried to find your phone, lowering the brightness as you grabbed it while your head throbbed.

pretty girl w the piercings: hi

pretty girl w the piercings: maybe its too soon but would you like to have dinner tonight? we can do something chill :)

-> se-mi, who has you waking up thanos and nam gyu with screams of happiness.

"who died?!" nam-gyu opened his eyes wide.

"min-su?! my boy?" thanos asks, alarmed

"se-mi texted me! she wants to hang out tonight! it's a date!" i said getting up the bed to quickly shower.

"this can't happen anymore bro. she needs to stop getting drunk and sleeping in your room" thanos says to nam gyu as he throws himself into his bed and covers himself with the blankets.

nam gyu blinks. two people already slept in his bed, none of those being him. he sighs as he goes into thanos's room to sleep some more.

"for fucks sakes" he mumbles.

-> se-mi, who's soon arriving to your house.

"i need you two idiots out of here tonight" you said, putting your earrings on and brushing your hair as they stared.

thanos winked as he grabbed his phone to call someone. "we're on our way" i could hear min-su over the phone screaming to thanos, alarmed, because he was on a family reunion. "we're your family too boy! be there in 20" he said, hanging up.

well. they're min-su's problem now.

-> se-mi, who stood there in all back, as she played with her lip piercing, smirking and looking up and down as you open the door.

"hi!"

"hey pretty" she said, as you moved aside, letting her in.

"we're just leaving" she got in as the guys got out, giving a quick head nod to her.

"get laid" thanos shouted from outside.

"she needs it" nam-gyu followed him.

of course you stood there all blushy as she chuckled.

you'll kill them later.

-> se-mi, who brought everything you told her you liked! a horror movie, your favorite snacks, diet coke and ice cream as dessert.

"it's this is okay? maybe i should've bought more things. now i'm nervous maybe it's time for a smoke break-" she rambles too much. you don't give her time to think as you cup her face and kiss her. her eyes widen in surprise but she quickly melts into it.

-> se-mi, who's quickly stopping the makeout sesh to turn on some 'cigarettes after sex' on the speaker.

-> se-mi, who starts hanging out more with the boys and talks a lot about you.

-like a lot. nam-gyu is tired. he has to see you at home and now hear about you??

-> se-mi, who loves chill dates with you, like staying at home and watching some movie.

-> se-mi, who has to get used to the guys because half of the dates probably include them bc they feel left out:(

its like you two are mothers going out with three kids. three very dumb kids (26 year old adults). but you love them and se-mi learns to love them too .. kind of. give her time.

-> se-mi, who not even two months in she's decoring your room with your favorite flowers and a sign that says 'would you let me be your girlfriend?' you kiss her until your lips go numb.

-> gf!se-mi who doesn't know how to keep her hands out of you. her hands on your hips, hugging you from behind, circles on your waist, underneath your shirt.

-> gf!se-mi who loves playing video games. she's SO happy when she finds out you don't actually like playing but you like watching. she buys all your favorite games and plays them all for you

"BABY, TURN RIGHT. I'VE WATCHED THIS 20 TIMES, GO RIGHT" you shout at her.

"do you wANNA PLAY?" she replies, getting exasperated trying to follow your indications.

you pout as you shook your head.

she loves this. wouldn't trade it for the world.

-> gf!se-mi who loves taking you shopping to the mall. clearly for the lingerie stores. probably ends up fingering you in there.

she buys anything you like, baby is poor but she tries SO hard for her girl:(

you're pointing at a plushie?? it's yours.

clothes u like? she knows your size, it's yours.

-> gf!se-mi who discovered your music tastes are so different that she can't believe she's listening to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo songs to learn them for you. she's incredibly down bad.

-> gf!se-mi who gets you a necklace with her initial

"for: baby

it's not because i own you, but because i really know you :)"

-> gf!se-mi who gets SO nervous when you wanna introduce her to ur parents. and she's so happy when they approved her.

-> gf!se-mi that is SOO smart, everytime she helps u study you're moaning.

-> gf!se-mi that's not studying for now, just working. but you are.

and when she sees you burned out? oh she's the first one to be there helping.

"baby, you've been studying for hours, let's take a break"

"i can't sem. my parents-"

"okay okay, let's go through the flashcards again and we'll take a nap, how does that sound?"

-> gf!se-mi that is there when you get a 87 and not a 100. and you're crying about what your parents are going to say while she caress your hair and kisses you.

"we'll start again in a bit if you want to, but for now let it out princess" she kisses your temple.

-> gf!se-mi who everyone stares when she takes you to campus. but she has no idea, she's just looking at you.

-> gf!se-mi who's a fuckgirl in recovery tho..

like the idea of cheating does not cross her mind. but sometimes she smiles. too much.

and maybe some girl is winking at her because god you have a HOT girlfriend.

and she just turns to you, smirking.

"did u see that babe? i haven't lost my charm ;)" she says as you scoff in disbelief. you two end up making out until her brain is too fuzzy to remember what she told you.

"just wanted her to see that you're mine" you say as you clean up any of your messed up lipstick.

her boxers are wet. sticky and wet.

and if someone you know is frequently flirting with her? next time they'll see her, she has three big bruised spots on her neck, and she's SO happy.

one time she had a little admirer at her job who went to see her like three times a week.

baby: she's here!!!!!!!!!!!

me: who???

me: wait.. stalker??

baby: mhm.

and when you leave her on seen, she frowns. she scans everything this girl is taking as she feels her phone vibrating. she checks her messages and oh! it's you!

two photos. one of you in her favorite red lingerie and the second one, you moving aside those pretty panties to send your bare pussy.

she's drooling. and her brain is pretty much broken.

"i-m-m sorry" she stutters to the girl in front of her, who frowns. "min-su cover for me! i'll stay tomorrow" se-mi screams at him and smiles at the girl who looks like her heart got crushed.

-> gf!se-mi who also gets jealous easily. match made in heaven!

give her two seconds before she's eyeing up and down with a cold stare to anyone who's talking to you. her hands grip your waist as they start to roam over your body, she leaves a wet neck kiss as she gets close to your ear.

"bathroom. right now. or you wanna show them you're only my whore? because i'll fuck you right here and i'll make them watch" she whispers on your ear while you're talking, making you shiver.

yeah forget the chat, it wasn't that interesting anyways.

-> gf!se-mi that spends every sundays with you

lazy days, laying in bed hugging and kissing eachother, picking two books out of your book shelf to read for a while. if it's raining?? movie, take out food and a nap.

she just wants to be with you, does not care about anything else.

-> gf!se-mi that if you're into romantic stuff, she's doing her best for her girl. sometimes she forgets tbh but there it is min-su to remind her!

se-mi: 😭 she's mad at me

min-su: it's flower day. according to tik tok, girl's wanna receive a yellow bouquet

se-mi: you're my second favorite person.

and she's at your door 30 minutes after you got mad with a yellow bouquet, smiling behind it.

she really tries.

-> gf!se-mi who knows how to draw so well, she actually draws a bouquet of ur favorite flowers to give u every month.

-> gf!se-mi who finds tik toks about kitties and sends them to you.

you open tik tok once again as you see a new video sent by your girlfriend. is a black cat licking a white cat with a pink bow

semisucks: das us:)

-> gf!se-mi who loves when you do skincare on her but she already has a pretty spotless face. although she uses hand soup to wash her face

-> gf!se-mi who never stopped flirting with you, she has to keep her girl

" you look so good tonight, you're lucky i have a wife or ill be taking you to bed real fast" she says winking as you roll your eyes.

-> gf!se-mi that after two years of dating, wants to move with you.

"you didnt ask for our consent" thanos says, shooking his head no as you both tell them the news.

"you steal our best friend and now you want her to move? that's not happening" nam gyu agrees with him.

you stare at the three of them who are fighting about you like little kids.

"well, i guess its time to bring the second choice" i say to se-mi as she places her head on the table as she mumbles 'fuck'

"she moves here" i say, staring at those two as they stare at eachother.

"fine. but no moaning" thanos says as nam gyu nods.

-> gf!se-mi who hates her birthday, except this year, when you throw her a mini surprise party with nam-gyu, thanos and min-su.

-> gf!se-mi who can't cook... please don't make her.

-> gf!se-mi who protects you and puts you on top of anything.

you're her girl after all.

nsfw hc!

-> gf!se-mi who has an obsession with your tits, when youre riding her? shes having a blast seeing your tits bounce

-> gf!se-mi who fucks u in public places. 100%

-> gf!se-mi who has a broken brain when she sees you with a new lingerie set.

-> gf!se-mi who has a black strap. and god she knows how to use it

-> gf!se-mi who didn't do it right if you're not crying and trembling by the end of the night.

-> gf!se-mi who loves quickies. everytime you two are about to go out you're suddenly 15 minutes late because you just looked so cute in that oufit, that she had to eat you out.

-> gf!se-mi who quiets her whimpers everytime you're eating her out while she's playing with the guys.

"are you okay? focus dip shit" nam-gyu says to her.

she's on her chair, completely flustered and out of breath, biting her lips while you're swirling around her clit.

"i'm- i'm fine" she sttuters as she quickly mutters the mic, her hand grabs your hair. "right there princess"

-> gf!se-mi who loves to hear you while she fucks you. if you're not screaming she's not happy.

-> gf!se-mi that gets extremely frustrated when you tease her in public.

it's okay, she'll make you her slut when you're back home<3

[nayeonara]

could you do a thanos squid game fic, where the reader dislikes him/rejects him: but he's so delusional - convinced she's just playing hard to get

HARD TO GET ! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pairings: thanos / choi su-bong x fem!reader

summary: where rejection just simply seems to fuel his delusions into believing you’re playing hard to get.

CW: kissing, thanos being thanos, the word ‘señorita’ used several times.

word count: 0.8K

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The air is thick with tension as you stand among the crowd, heart pounding in sync with the eerie lullaby playing over the speakers. The massive mechanical doll at the far end of the field turns its head with a slow, deliberate click, its eyes scanning for the slightest movement. You barely have time to process the rules of the game when a towering presence shifts beside you, a tall man who appeared to be an ex-rapper considering his unique purple hair. He looks down at you with a wide smirk on his face “be careful señorita, you’ll end up dead if move a single muscle” he laughs at you. You draw back as you hear him refer to you as señorita.

However, he had supported you throughout the deadly game despite taking his pills. You still disliked him though, seeming as he was crazed and would constantly harass innocent people. Although to Thanos, this was a way of showing off his strength and dominance. “Say señorita, we would make an awesome couple ya know” He says with cockiness in his voice that was undeniably aggravating. “I dont think so” You try to laugh off in order to still be polite even though you meant every single word. “Why not?” He responds with confusion as if you’ve just rejected the most handsome prize you could get in there despite the money. “I.. just don’t really.. see you that way” You tried to say it lighthearted, because you knew what Thanos was capable of. And you really didn’t want to be on his bad side.

He chuckles. “Ah i understand now. You’re just playing hard to get with me” He says with confidence. “But don’t you worry señorita, i’ll break your wall down with ease” He delusionaly walks away, plotting his future advances so that he would make you his girl. You’re tense after that, knowing he wouldn’t put a stop to his nonstop flirting. You try your hardest to push past your thoughts as you eventually succumb to a somewhat peaceful slumber in those tacky old beds the organisers of the game supplied you all with.

It had been a day now, your team and thanos just survived the six-legged race game, which left you paranoid as he was just messing around the full time, not caring that your lives were put at stake. This angered you alot more now, you were about done with his foolish acts and excused yourself to the team to leave for the bathrooms to calm yourself down. Thanos saw this as a gold opportunity to try and win over your ‘hard to get’ act, as he was so convinced you were crazy about him. He also excused himself and sneakily followed you towards the female bathrooms. You stand beside the sink, washing your face with the ice-cold water until you hear an opening of the door. At first you had just assumed it would be another female wanting to use the restroom, but thats when you hear it. His deep and playful voice calling out your name.

“Thanos, what the hell are you doing he-“ He cuts off your whisper shouting as he muffles your voice with one of his strong hands. “Chill out señorita, we finally have time for ourselves yeah?” He asked as if it was some casual thing between us. you look up at him nervously, afraid of what he would do. He locks eyes with you for a moment then looks down towards your heart-shaped lips. He leans over in one swift motion, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones. You wanted him to stop, you wanted to tell him that he was wrong about you. That you didn’t feel anything towards him. Although you would be lying to yourself if you said that his lips smashed against yours didn’t feel good.

As he continued to press down on you, he began tracing his hands around your body, you felt yourself slowly giving in to the passionate kiss. Although it started getting rougher by the second and you felt like you were getting weaker through his touch. He pulls away for a minute, “Come on, you cant deny you like this, that you like me, my señorita” He grins before quickly reconnecting your lips. Now it was you who pulled away, “What makes you so sure of that?” He just stares at you for a good couple seconds, “You say you dont like me but your body seems to speak for itself baby” And he was right. Even though you didn’t like him, your body was so rapid to give in to him. You felt yourself get so confused with your own emotions within this moment. “Doesn’t mean i like you though” you spoke through gritted teeth. “Sure you don’t” He smugly said before leaving you unaccompanied in the bathroom.

You were now just stood there, drowning in many thoughts and wondering how you were gonna get thanos to leave you alone now that you humiliated yourself, by actually somehow enjoying the encounter you both shared.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

authors note: thank you for the request! im so sorry that its a bit short 😭 i think i made him a bit ooc.. but oh well

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion | Aaron Pierre

Pairings: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Series summary: Aaron and YN’s friendship has stood the test of time, but when the chance for something more comes, will they risk everything for a love that feels impossible—or keep circling around the truth of their hearts?

Chapter summary: A night of nostalgia and reconnection at a high school reunion stirs old emotions, leaving two friends questioning the boundaries of their relationship and the possibilities they’ve always left unspoken.

Word Count: 2.5K

a/n: i wanted to try my hand something really cliche and fluffy like a friends to lovers trope - this will be a slow burn (my own fault lol) - writing a series has never been my strong suit so you'll have to bear with me

The smell of something warm and savoury hit YN the moment she stepped through the door of Marcus and Aisha’s townhouse. She could hear the faint murmur of voices and the clink of glasses before the hosts themselves emerged from the kitchen, their faces lighting up in unison.

“Finally! The last piece of the puzzle,” Marcus declared, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“YN, you look gorgeous, as always,” Aisha chimed in, giving her a quick but warm hug. “Come in, food’s almost ready, and we’re all starving.”

“Let me guess,” YN teased as she slipped off her coat. “Nobody wanted to wait for me, but Marcus said it’d be rude to start without the whole group.”

“She gets me,” Marcus said with a wink, ushering her into the dining area. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, every familiar face instantly making her feel at ease. There was Michelle, always animated, waving her wine glass like a conductor’s baton as she told some wild story. Isaiah, who leaned back in his chair with that quiet grin, nodding along. And Aaron, seated at the end of the table, his presence as steady as ever, offering her a small, knowing smile when their eyes met.

She settled into the open seat beside Aaron, her heart giving the faintest flutter. It wasn’t the kind of flutter that screamed attraction—not outwardly, anyway. It was more like the warm ache of familiarity; the gravitational pull she’d always felt toward him.

“Glad you made it,” Aaron said, his tone easy, like they hadn’t seen each other in a while even though it had only been a week.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her voice light.

The evening unfolded effortlessly. Plates of food were passed around, stories from their university days resurfaced, and the wine flowed as freely as the laughter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Marcus raised his glass dramatically.

“Alright, team,” he began. “Before we subject ourselves to the chaos of tonight’s reunion, I propose a toast. To surviving high school, thriving in adulthood—”

“… and for surviving the reunion without resorting to violence,” Michelle cut in, raising her glass higher.

“Exactly,” Marcus said with a grin. “Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, and someone muttered, “We’re gonna need more drinks if we run into Kevin Thompson. That man never learned how to shut up.”

“Amen to that,” Aisha added, and the group erupted into laughter.

By the time the limo arrived, everyone was buzzing—part excitement, part nervous energy. YN had just texted Trey to let him know where to meet them, and now she found herself fussing with the hem of her dress in the mirror by the door.

“You’re good,” Aaron said as he passed by, his tone so casual it almost sounded indifferent. But she caught the faintest softening in his expression, like he’d been paying closer attention than he let on.

“Thanks,” she replied, her smile shy. She adjusted her earrings and turned back to the group, who were gathering coats and handbags in a flurry of last-minute preparations.

“YN, you need to teach Trey our trick for changing the subject when Kevin inevitably tries to corner us,” Isaiah teased as they stepped into the limo, his tone light and teasing.

Aaron, seated across from her in the limo, greeted Trey with a handshake and a brief but polite smile. There was no tension, no lingering looks that might give anything away. Aaron played his part with impeccable grace, though YN knew him well enough to notice the way he carried himself—a quiet, measured restraint that only someone who knew him intimately would pick up on.

The reunion venue was alive with energy, laughter echoing through the halls as old friends reconnected. The music thrummed softly in the background of the high school reunion; a curated playlist of throwbacks meant to stir nostalgia. YN adjusted the strap of her dress and smoothed down the fabric for what felt like the fiftieth time since walking through the doors. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she made her way into the main hall, her date trailing slightly behind her, holding two glasses of champagne. But it wasn’t long before someone approached their group, drink in hand, eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Wow, YN,” they said, their tone light but laced with something else. “I always thought you and Aaron would’ve ended up together by now. Guess a lot’s changed, huh?”

The comment hit like a stone skipping across water, rippling through the group. YN’s smile faltered for just a second, but it was long enough for Aaron to notice. He said nothing, his face a mask of calm as he took a sip of his drink. Trey’s hand rested lightly on her back, a gesture meant to steady her, though she wasn’t sure if he even caught the shift in atmosphere.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Aaron said smoothly, breaking the silence. His voice was even, his smile cordial, and yet there was a weight to his words that lingered even after the moment passed.

As the group moved on, the comment left a faint but undeniable tension in its wake. YN couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest, and Aaron noticed the slight change in her posture, the way her laugh felt a little more forced. He stayed quiet at first, letting the others fill the space. He’d always been good at observing, at reading the room. But he said nothing, keeping his thoughts locked away, as he always had.

The night seemed to stretch in an oddly suspended way, time moving both too fast and too slow as the reunion came to a close. Laughter still lingered in the air, the sound of glasses clinking faintly from other groups still enjoying their night. YN stood with her friends just outside the venue, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Her fingers tugged at the straps of her clutch absentmindedly, her mind flitting between Trey’s steady presence beside her and the earlier comment that seemed to have shifted something imperceptible in the air.

One by one, the group made their way to the limo parked at the curb, the energy mellowing into a comfortable buzz. Aaron leaned against the vehicle, his frame effortlessly commanding as he exchanged a few light-hearted remarks with Marcus and Aisha. YN caught herself glancing his way—his smile, the casual ease in his posture. He looked entirely at peace, and yet, something about him tonight had her questioning if that was entirely true.

As they piled into the limo, conversation resumed, though quieter now. Marcus cracked a joke about one of their old classmates that earned a ripple of laughter, but the words barely registered for YN. Trey sat beside her, his arm draped loosely across the back of the seat, while Aaron settled in across from them. The confined space, while luxurious, felt heavy. Every glance, every movement seemed magnified.

YN found herself hyper-aware of Aaron’s presence—of the way his gaze flicked out the window, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. If he noticed the way Trey’s thumb brushed against her shoulder, he didn’t show it. Instead, he remained composed, even offering Trey a polite, “Good meeting you tonight.” Trey nodded in return, the exchange brief but cordial. It was Aaron’s restraint that struck her most—not a flicker of jealousy, not a hint of bitterness. Just that quiet, unreadable strength he carried so well.

The ride stretched on as the limo began its route of dropping everyone home. First was Marcus, who exited with a lingering grin and a playful, “Don’t forget, we survived high school, but some of these people definitely peaked.” Aisha rolled her eyes but laughed as she climbed out next, pausing to hug YN tightly. As she leaned in, her voice dropped to a whisper only YN could hear.

“Call me in the morning, okay? We’ll talk.”

YN tightened her hold just slightly in response, the gesture subtle but enough to convey her agreement. When Aisha finally pulled away, she offered YN a small, knowing smile before disappearing into the night.

Now, it was just the three of them—Aaron, YN, and Trey. The tension in the car shifted again, more noticeable in the absence of their friends. Trey filled the silence with a comment about the night’s playlist, oblivious to the glances YN kept stealing toward Aaron. When they finally reached Trey’s stop, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and promised to text her when he got home.

The moment he left the car though, it felt as though the very air changed. YN and Aaron sat in silence as the limo pulled away, the city lights painting fleeting patterns across their faces. She could feel his eyes on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look his way. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts too loud in the quiet.

“You okay?” His voice broke through, low and steady - his question layered with a deeper meaning, eluding to her happiness.

“Yeah.” She forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

Aaron nodded, his expression unreadable. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The limo finally came to a stop outside her flat. Aaron moved to open the door for her, his movements deliberate and smooth. She stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Turning back, she met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them in the quiet.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, YN.” His voice was softer now, almost tender.

She walked to her door, feeling his eyes on her until she stepped inside. As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her flat felt too quiet, too still compared to the night’s events. Kicking off her heels, she made her way to the bathroom, mechanically removing her makeup and letting the cool water centre her.

Yet, as she climbed into bed, her mind refused to settle. The reunion, the comment, the limo ride—it all played on a loop. And Aaron. Always Aaron.

Across town, Aaron sat in the back of the limo, his thoughts similarly restless. His elbow rested against the door; his fingers pressed to his temple as he replayed the night. The smile on YN’s face, the warmth in her laugh—he wanted her to have that happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. But the ache in his chest told him what he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Some truths, no matter how deeply buried, had a way of surfacing. And tonight felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name yet.

The morning after the reunion was slow to rise, the early rays of sun filtering through YN’s curtains, casting gentle streaks of light across her bed. She lay still, her duvet tangled around her legs, as fragmented memories of last night played out in her mind like an unfinished film. The laughter, the faces she hadn’t seen in years, the subtle tension that had wrapped itself around her chest like a second skin.

And then, Aaron.

Her eyes fluttered shut again as her thoughts drifted back to the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his laugh. The way he’d greeted Trey with that effortless grace, as though it didn’t cost him a single thing to see her on another man’s arm. But it wasn’t just that moment—it was the echo of words she hadn’t even spoken aloud, the unshakeable ache of wanting something that felt impossible. Her chest stirred with a confusing mix of nerves, regret, longing, and compassion, each emotion vying for space in the quiet of her bedroom.

She sighed, her arm draping across her face as if she could block it all out. This was why she hated reunions. Too much digging up the past, too much pretending things were simpler than they were. Just as she turned over, trying to will herself back into the sanctuary of sleep, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen was a welcome distraction.

Aisha.

“Hey,” YN answered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“You sound like death,” Aisha teased, the warmth in her tone softening the jab. “Late night?”

“You were there, you know it was,” YN replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“True, but I wasn’t the one with a date,” Aisha countered lightly, her words skimming just close enough to the edge of teasing to make YN’s stomach twist.

“Trey’s not... it’s not serious,” YN said quickly, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. Her voice was quiet, but even she could hear the uncertainty laced in it.

“Hmm,” was all Aisha said in response, a non-committal hum that spoke volumes. “So... you’ve been thinking about last night, haven’t you?”

YN’s silence was answer enough. She stared at the wall, her mind already wandering back to the moment in the ballroom when someone’s offhand comment had shattered the fragile bubble of normalcy she’d tried to build.

“We always thought you and Aaron would’ve been together by now.”

The words had lingered like smoke, choking the air out of the room. YN hadn’t even looked at Aaron then; she couldn’t. Her heart had clenched too tightly at the thought of what could’ve been, what should’ve been—but wasn’t. Aisha’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Aisha asked, her tone softer now, almost tentative.

“No,” YN lied, too quickly, and the weak conviction in her voice betrayed her.

“YN,” Aisha pressed gently, “we’re all rooting for you two, you know that, right? We stopped pushing the agenda a long time ago, hoping you’d find each other in your own time. But... we don’t want it to be too late. We don’t want to see you both settle for less when you could have each other.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat tight with unspoken emotion. “On paper we work, but we’re people, not paper,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The words felt heavier than she expected, like they carried the weight of years of doubt, fear, and unacknowledged longing.

Aisha was silent for a moment, letting YN’s words settle. “You really believe that?”

YN didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was already drifting again, back to the countless moments over the years that had tethered her and Aaron together. The stolen glances, the inside jokes, the quiet understanding that didn’t need words. The way he could read her moods with a single look, how he’d always known what to say—or what not to say—when she needed it most.

Practically soulmates, she thought bitterly. Always orbiting, never colliding.

“You’re not answering me,” Aisha said, her voice pulling YN back to the present again. “You know, for someone who’s so good with words, you get awfully quiet when it comes to Aaron.”

“I’m just tired,” YN said, though even she didn’t believe it.

“Mhm,” Aisha replied, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get some rest. But we’re talking about this. Properly. Tomorrow.”

There was a pause before Aisha added, “And YN? Just... think about it. Really think about it. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?”

YN tightened her grip on the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. “Goodbye, Aisha.”

“Okay, babe,” Aisha said softly, and the call ended with a quiet click.

YN sat in the silence that followed, Aisha’s words echoing in her mind like a haunting melody. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?

She exhaled shakily, leaning back against the headboard and letting her head fall back. The weight of the question settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. She was just too afraid to admit it.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718

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[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: angst, jealousy, possessiveness, eddie being a jerk, smut

wc: 10.6k

A/N: Sorry for the lack of update, i am not proud of this chapter BUT its the beginning of the angst loves. not proud of how i portrayed words here but its okay its fine, thank u @andvys for proofreading it ❤️

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 20

He wiped his forehead for the seventh time in the past five minutes. 

The heat inside his shop was being a little suffocating now that the spring completely rolled over. It was humid and everything just felt too sticky. Every tool he grabbed almost slipped out of his hands thanks to the grease and sweat. He looked around to see Jeff in the same situation, working shirtless over a mustang’s open hood. 

“I am going to get the AC fixed, I didn’t think the heat would come so quickly Jeff.” Eddie sighed, feeling a bit horrible with himself for making his friend work with these conditions. Jeff only chuckled, shaking his head, grabbing the rag from the back pocket of his jeans and wiping his hands with it.

“Not your fault, Eds. You can’t control the weather… but yes, please, fix this.” He pointed at the high ceiling where the ventilation system was located. Eddie groaned and nodded, getting up from the stool he was sitting on, flexing his body and deciding to discard his shirt that was drenched in sweat from working hunched over for over an hour. 

He stretched his neck all around as he tightened the bun in his head. He sometimes wanted to chop all of his hair off when it was work and heat coming together. The hair stuck to his face and it felt so wrong, and the amount of times he has to wash it in the spring and summer is insane… but no. He would never chop his beautiful mane, as he calls it, away just because of some temporary distress. 

He heard Jeff start coughing loudly, and Eddie turned around to see his friend looking wide eyed at him, his own fist punching his sternum while Eddie stood completely baffled, not knowing what happened to his friend.

“The fuck happened–”

“Holy fucking shit, your back! Were you attacked by a fucking animal or something man!?” And Eddie was confused for just one more second until– Oh.

He felt a twitch in his pants as he realized what marks he was talking about. The nail scratches all over his back, on his biceps, on his chest… The bite marks and hickeys that lingered on his collarbone and some on his thighs that he couldn’t see thanks to his jeans. They were so intense that they popped out just like his tattoos. Eddie cleared his throat as he grabbed the rag behind his back pocket, a smirk displaying on his features as he started to clean the sweat off his chest a bit with it.

“Uh, sure, you can call it that.” Jeff whistled as his eyes stared wide eyed at his friend. 

“Well fuck… I’ve never seen you marked up like this. She’s good GOOD, isn’t she?” And Eddie’s mind wandered back to two days ago, how the two of you were driving back from Jonathan’s bar and you had a few more drinks than he had, making you bold and confident. You had rubbed your hand all over him through the whole ride to your house, making him lose his self control minute by minute. 

You had leaned over at red lights, kissed his neck, bit his shoulder that made him hiss, and when you two finally arrived at your home, the moment you closed the door, you slammed him against it and dropped to your knees. You controlled the night. He was stunned and just purely amazed by you. Every encounter was something new and– you two couldn’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Out of the seven days of the week, you two fucked four or even five. A month passed since you two started this new agreement, and he never in his life felt this much desire towards someone. He assumes it’s because of your capability to do things his other hookups had yet to match. It must be it.

“She is… excellent. The best I’ve ever fucking had, Jeff.” His friend whistles again at that, pointing at Eddie’s back with a proud chuckle.

“I can see that. I’ve never in my life seen those marks on you.”

“I’m not one to let himself be marked easily.” And it was the truth, and Jeff tilted his head, squinting his eyes, a playful smile appearing on his lips as Eddie frowned. “What?”

“I think someone is falling a little deeper than he should~” He groaned loudly at Jeff’s words, rolling his eyes, pushing away the fact his stomach did some turn at them.

“No, I am not. I just get too lost in it and forget to tell her not to.” Eddie retorts, crossing his arms over his chest as Jeff raises an accusatory eyebrow at him.

“Right. So this is just fucking then? Just a little hook-up every now and then?” He asks with a cheeky tone behind his voice, making Eddie squint and push his friend on the arm, making Jeff laugh. 

“What else?” 

“She the only one?” At that Eddie stopped in his tracks, his eyes getting a bit lost at the question because– you were. For some reason, he couldn’t be with anyone else, and he had hovered over the messaging button on past girls' Instagrams… But he always went back to your chat.

He never did exclusivity. It was too intimate, too private, and the last thing he wanted was to make things complicated. He didn’t want them to be complicated with you, and if they did become that way, things might end, and he doesn’t want them to end, not this soon. But you two are just having sex, yet the idea of someone else touching you was making him clench his fists tightly every now and then. 

He wondered if you felt that same kind of worry or passing thought with him. Wondered if he was sleeping with other girls, if he talked to others. This is just because of who he is, no more than that. He ignores the fact this hasn’t happened with any of his past hook-ups, better to be oblivious than think too much over it.

“Um–” As he opened his mouth to talk, not really knowing if he was going to tell the truth or deny it, the small garage door opened, the one made for employees, and Steve walked in with three bags of food in his hand. Eddie sighed with relief, feeling saved by a god or something and Jeff rolled his eyes, but immediately put the rag away as his mouth salivated when he saw Steve walking towards them with food.

“Hello there ladies– HOLY SHIT!” Steve jumped a bit as he saw Eddie’s body and– fuck.

“I had the same fucking reaction Steve.” Jeff commented, chuckling as he saw Eddie’s glare towards him before turning back to talk to Steve who was checking him out with his jaw dropped and a frown in his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m having sex, where’s the shock in that?” But Steve’s eyes were still roaming him from head to toe, never having seen Eddie in this state. 

“Oh nothing, is your partner a fucking bear?” Jeff snorted, making Eddie glare at him with everything in him.

“I asked the same shit man… But no, it is in fact a woman.” With that, Jeff grabs one of the food bags from Steve’s hands as Eddie rips one in anger, making Steve whistle just like Jeff had done minutes before. 

“Does the woman identify as wolverine or some shit?” Steve finally laughed, but Eddie could sense the curiosity in his friend as a frown was still etched in his eyebrows. He was a bit nervous at the prospect of Steve interrogating him, but he could play it off as one of the many hookups he had. But– The problem was, Steve knows all about them. This is the first time he saw Eddie this way, all marked, bitten, completely ravished.

“I am just that good Steve. Want to try?” He jokingly asked and Steve scoffed, shaking his head as Jeff chuckled, closing the hood of the car and sitting on it, opening the bag on his lap. Eddie’s nose scrunched up, snapping his fingers at his friend. “Not in the client’s car.” “It’s going to get washed and polished either way.” Jeff retorted and Eddie rolled his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge that Steve’s eyes were still on him. He turned to his brown-haired friend, trying to gulp down the nerves.

“Thanks for bringing the food man.” He peeked inside the bag, mouth salivating as he saw the pastrami sandwich Jonathan makes at his bar. It’s delicious, one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“Don’t mention it… Eddie–” Suddenly, the door opened once again and his eyes widened, heart stopping for a second. Soft heel sounds were heard and echoed through the whole shop, rustles of bags and– oh, fuck.

The moment the three men came into view, you stopped in your tracks.

Eddie could see the emotions running all over your body, your face frozen as you saw Steve staring at you, confused by your sudden presence, but Jeff wasn’t. He was used to you being here, not knowing what had been happening between you and Eddie. Eddie disguised it as you coming in to ask about your car, not to arrange when and where the two of you would fuck after work. Not at all.

“I– Hi.” Your voice was small and Eddie almost winced at it. His eyes roamed your body as you got closer, and it felt like his body turned a switch and something ignited inside of him. It was automatic. Every time he saw you, it was as if there was this predatory trait in him, something in you making him go feral, primal.

You were wearing that stupid ass office attire he dreamed of staining with his fluids mixed with yours, of maybe ripping a button or two. That grey skirt, grey blazer with that turquoise blouse peeking from inside, and those low heels that for some reason make him go insane. His eyes then fell to the three bags in your hand, his face trying to conceal a wince as he realized you had the same idea Steve had.

Your eyes were fixated on him, slowly roamed over his exposed body and arms, and he saw how your breathing hitched, how it lost its pace for a second, how your eyes darkened and your lips trembled slightly. He wanted to smile victoriously, but he would give himself away if he did… but as soon as that lustful look on your eyes appeared, he sensed the panic. Steve saw your marks. Jeff saw your marks. 

“More food, fuck yeah.” Jeff interrupted and your eyes went towards him and then glanced at Eddie once, and– a sinking feeling came to his stomach. He didn’t like that look in your eyes. He saw how you turned to face Jeff once again, and you fucking smiled sweetly at him. 

Oh, fuck no.

“Y-Yeah! I just… thought you guys might be hungry and I know all the work you guys have lately so–” And Eddie felt his jaw tense up. Steve though… his eyes were going between you and Jeff, and he was trying to conceal a smile. 

“Well, Stevie here had the same idea.” Eddie’s voice was low, rough, and he had to force his mouth open to talk because if he hadn’t he would have spoken through his teeth. Your eyes went towards him and then all over his body. You had the nerve to scrunch your face in disgust, an eyebrow going up in question.

“Did you fall into a lion enclosure at the local zoo or what?” At that, Jeff and Steve snorted, looking away momentarily from the two of you. Eddie’s eyes were now on you, and he felt like he wanted to bend you over and show these two what he could do to you. Your mouth is being really brave right now when he can turn you into a stupid mess in the matter of seconds.

But he also understood how you two had to act. He understood what your idea was and you were being smart… Still, he glared at you, and he saw how you shivered underneath his gaze. His jaw clenched once before he gave a forced smile, a warning towards you.

“These just means I do a good job.” His eyes turn to Jeff. “You can’t say the same, huh?” 

Your eyes widened as well as Steve’s. Jeff turned to look at Eddie, a frown appearing on his eyebrows in confusion at his friend’s anger towards him. He was about to open his mouth but Steve suddenly stepped in between, a fake smile on his lips as he looked at Eddie.

“Eds, let’s go to the office, I wanna talk to you about something.” Eddie saw how Steve gave a quick pointed look towards Jeff and yourself and– He wanted to punch someone. Why did you have to go and tell people you were fucking Jeff? Why not a random guy? Even if you were right, and they have bought into the idea that Eddie was yours and Jeff’s wingman, he did not see this confrontation coming.

“Y-Yeah! You two go talk, I’ll keep Jeff company!” Your voice was high-pitched and sweet, and with the act of being excited and Eddie wanted to choke you. Steve was buying your whole show and Jeff was plainly confused. Your eyes were on his brown ones and you gave a raise of eyebrows as if telling him to go with Steve, to follow your lead.

He sighed and nodded, but his blood temperature elevated when he saw Steve turn around and wink at you and Jeff before turning with Eddie and heading up to his office. It’s just an act. It’s something that was going to happen sooner or later. But now, Jeff will have to know, won’t he? There’s no way of covering that one up. His heart was hammering in his chest and it’s just this stupid sense of possession he has over you and–

He opened his office door, and walked inside to drop the bag on his desk, sitting on his chair with a huff, rubbing his hand over his face as Steve closed the door behind him, a smile still on his stupid face. 

“Well, I think that our little lady is smitten.” He felt annoyed at those words as he walked over to his mini fridge, opening it to take two bottles of coke out, while Steve put the food bags on his table, already opening them to reveal the pastrami sandwiches he had gotten with fries. He let out the breath he was holding in his stomach, feeling it growl in hunger and the scent of food filled his nostrils, making him sit down immediately.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, intrigued even if irritated because… if he thought that of Jeff, then it meant that you would appear like that with him. You didn’t bring food or visit Jeff in particular. You came to do those things with him. Steve shrugged, sitting down on the seat in front of his desk, across from Eddie, as he started opening his sandwich.

“Coming to the shop just because?” That wasn’t a good enough reason for you to be smitten, wasn't it?

“It really doesn’t mean anything. She came to the shop before, many times.” Steve frowned at Eddie’s words, taking a fry into his mouth.

“Just to bring in food?” Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. We became good friends.” He hoped his voice didn’t give him away, though, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You didn’t show up just because, but this wasn’t the first time you brought food with you. Even if you came to the shop because of your car before, the having lunch together part is not entirely new.

“And it still baffles me.”

“Aw, you afraid she will take your place?” Eddie snickered and his best friend rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his sandwich as Eddie opened his own, licking his lips in anticipation as his stomach growled.

“As if. Does she know what I know?” Steve asked and Eddie stopped midway on taking his first bite. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat, a small shake of his head.

“No.” And just like that, Steve scoffed in victory and Eddie took his first big bite, moaning as he closed his eyes in delight. They kept eating for a minute in pure silence, and Eddie was grateful for that until Steve decided to be a fucking menace.

“So… Who is she?” “Huh?” Steve pointed to his shoulder blades with a fry pinched in between his fingers.

“Leopard girl. Wolverine. I don’t know, whoever the fuck it is.” Steve ate the fry and Eddie thought he wasn’t going to question it at all but he knew he was wrong in that. Eddie took another bite of his sandwich, taking his time to chew so he could think of something, making Steve roll his eyes at the theatrics. 

“Um– Just… A friend of a client of mine.” He lied, trying to make this person as unknown as possible to make it seem like the actual woman he was fucking was not a few steps away from them. 

“Explain?” “She came to fix her car after her friend recommended us to her.” Eddie took another bite of his sandwich as he felt the nerves making his heart beat into his chest, and he could hear the pumping of his own blood rushing in his ears as he saw how Steve was looking at him.

“And is she like… a recurrent hookup?” And Eddie pondered that question because… he just had to lie about who he was fucking, didn’t he? “Oh yeah. Not letting her go any time soon Steve.” And it felt good to tell someone about it. To tell someone about you without really saying it was you. Steve smiled as he leaned forward, putting his crossed arms on the desk as he gave Eddie his full attention.

“Well, I never thought I’d hear that from you.” Steve’s face was one of shock and amusement as he looked at his best friend. Eddie noticed, yet, nodded slowly as he took the last bite of his sandwich. His mind suddenly filled with your encounters, never more than a fuck, never less than just that. 

“She… I– I enjoy sex with her. I enjoy it very much, Steve. For the first time ever I feel entirely satisfied with someone.” Eddie wasn’t looking into his friend’s eyes, just picking into his fries as his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s eyes were wide, staring at Eddie in shock, amusement, and some worry etched within.

“That’s certainly something I never heard from you, Eds… What makes her different from the rest?” Eddie took a fry into his mouth as he thought, a wave of something he doesn’t know how to identify rushing over him as your face popped up in his head.

“I mean, we started as friends, you know… Just messaging eachother, and then one day it just happened… She–” He felt his cheeks flush completely and Steve’s face was one of understanding, looking down at Eddie’s fidgeting fingers.

“Not the usual… size troubles, I assume?” And Eddie slowly shook his head, making Steve even more intrigued. He got nervous for his best friend, his thumb going to his mouth to bite onto the edge of it as he thought. Eddie’s eyes found Steve’s gaze moved somewhere else, making him frown.

“What is it?” “I mean, Eds… You sound kind of serious with this girl.” 

What? “Huh? No. I assure you, it’s nothing serious, Steve. We–” Did he? Did he sound serious about you? No, absolutely no. He has never sounded serious about anyone before. It just sounds like it because it is the first time he has been with the same hook up for so long.

“You never talk to me about your affairs. I mean, sure you told me about some chicks you slept with, but they were always complaints… This one is–” 

And Eddie realized he had never talked about a single good moment he had with a woman before with Steve. He had them, he sure has, but never in the extent he had them with you. You felt like nothing ever before, and that didn’t make you serious, it just made you– special. Just that. 

“I know, but I promise you, it’s nothing like that. It’s just sex.” He felt his words choking him up slightly, but he cleared his throat, trying to take the lump he got away. Steve’s eyes found his and then went down towards Eddie’s body.

“It’s just… you letting her do that means you aren’t sleeping with anyone else but her, isn’t it?” Oh he got busted. Eddie bit his bottom lip as he felt his stomach closing in on him, not knowing why Steve was making a big deal out of him sleeping with just one person.

“Am I that promiscuous?” He tried to play it off as a joke, but his best friend sighed, shaking his head.

“Eddie, I never heard you talk about a woman before, much less see you only sleeping with one and just one. Are you two exclusive?” 

“What?” “Are you exclusive to eachother?” And that conversation was something that never happened between the two of you again. He hadn’t slept with anyone but you, he never told you it, and probably never will, but it was because he was satisfied with you. You met his needs and that was the deal of it… but he wondered if it was the same for you. He wondered if you slept with others but him. He wondered if he was the only one. 

But no. Exclusivity means that the relationship is heading to a more serious tone and Eddie does not want that. You surely don’t want that. He won’t talk about this to you anytime soon, yet, answering the question to Steve felt like he was being punctured by needles in the tip of his tongue.

“No. We are not.” That tasted like piss in his fucking mouth. Why? You two are not exclusive, and probably never will be. That tasted even worse in his mind.

“It’s just– You gotta tell her if–”

“We are not exclusive and we will never be a couple. Drop it, Steve.” At his sharp words, Steve’s eyebrows met in the middle in a frown.

“That’s because you avoid it! Eddie, I’m sure someone out there doesn’t care about your condition! This is the first time I hear you talk about a girl this way and you are letting her go–”

“I am not letting her go! I have no one to let go of because we are just fucking, Harrington! Fucking! I’m so sorry I don’t have the perfect love story you and Johnny had, or Nance and Robin. Hell, even Argyle and Eden!” He was angry now, he didn’t want to be but talking about this matter just made him become infuriated at his friend. Why did he make such a big deal out of this? Why question him about his decisions? 

“Perfect!? I had to endure watching Johnny flirt for about a year until he decided we were more than friends with benefits.” And Eddie remembered that distinctively. Steve crying on his shoulder after he saw Jonathan flirt with someone… even with you. After the night they met you, and Jonathan asked you out, he went to his home with Robin, consoling him. Another reason for his stupid hatred towards you when you didn’t know Steve at the time. You didn’t know Steve was in love with Jonathan, much less they were sleeping together.

Eddie’s jaw clenched as he looked away, trying to avoid his best friend’s gaze. He knew all of his friends had their hardships with their relationships, but it didn’t mean his would be more than just a fuck buddy system thing. It doesn't mean that you two will become a couple. He can’t do that. He knows a relationship with him means that it will meet an impending doom at one point or the other. He was meant to fail.

“It’s not going to turn serious. It can’t.” Eddie’s voice was small, and Steve’s demeanor softened, a low sigh escaping him as he looked at his best friend with a pitiful look in his eyes.

“You are insufferable. You know that?” Eddie chuckled and looked up to see Steve smiling at him.

“You told me once or twice.” Steve nodded once as he started throwing all the wrappings into one of the food bags he brought.

“You think they’re fucking? Should I stay a bit longer up here?” “Huh?” Eddie was confused until Steve smirked and nodded towards the door. The long-haired man wanted to crack his neck from the sudden annoyance that washed over him. 

“No, Jeff knows that he should not do that at work. I’d have to fire him.” Eddie said as he got up from his chair, his heart beating in his chest with something he couldn’t pinpoint what. It was a feeling of nervousness, or of anticipation, or worry as he got closer to the door. He heard Steve getting up to follow him as he opened the door and–

He stopped.

You giggled as your hand rubbed Jeff’s cheek while he sat on the hood of the car he fixed. You were in between his legs, his hands were on your waist and to your hips as you two giggled with eachother, intimately. Steve stood next to Eddie, smirking, looking down at how you looked radiant once again after a few months of not doing so after your break up. As if remembering what Eddie had told him, he cleared his throat loudly.

Jeff’s eyes looked up the stairs, wincing as he ripped his hands away from you, making you gasp as you pulled away, acting ashamed as you looked down at the floor and fixed your blazer. Steve elbowed Eddie a few times before starting to head down, not noticing the state his best friend was in.

Eddie’s chest was rumbling. 

He was seeing red. He wanted to rip Jeff’s head off and then claim you in front of him, even in front of Steve. He wanted nothing more than to show off how dumb he could get you. How sweaty and how desperate you looked when you were underneath him. It was something he hadn’t anticipated and the fact was, he didn’t know if it’s a plan or not from you and Jeff. He knows it is, but his brain, his very own self is making him think Jeff is taking you from him. 

But this was the reality he was in. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do with you, not in front of them. They didn’t know you two were an item. He has to remind himself of that part, of that little detail in order not to lose you. If he fucks up, and you decide to cut everything off, he doesn’t know how he could cope with the need you fill. The need you satisfy, and for now, it is you only.

He slowly walked down the stairs while Jeff smirked your way and then looked around as if shy, only making him get angrier, but he has to fucking calm down. He started feeling how his palms started sweating the more you did googly eyes at his friend, and Steve was eating that shit up. He heard Steve clear his throat as Eddie stood next to him, his eyes never leaving your face.

“I think I’m leaving now. I’m supposing you’re… staying a bit longer?” His question was directed your way, which you fidgeted in your place, looking at Eddie for one second, and he knew you felt his anger, or his displeasure. He knew you felt it because he saw how you straightened up for a second, to then realize you were looking his way too much, and then you turned towards Jeff.

“Um… If the boss lets me.” You said innocently, this time, your eyes still glued to Jeff, who then looked at Eddie. The metalhead’s hands clenched as his glare was directed to his friend now.

“I was about to have lunch anyways… right?” Jeff asked and Eddie wanted to rip his head off. But you weren’t leaving. No. He had to talk with you privately about this stupid show you just did. So, Eddie faked a grin, nodding at his friend and then turned to you. Your eyes were worried as you looked at him.

“Of course, Peach can stay.” He felt a pat on his shoulder as if saying ‘Good job’. He didn’t turn to face Steve, his eyes still glued on yours, the fake grin still plastered on his lips.

“Well, I gotta go help Jon so… I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?” His best friend bid his goodbye and he knew he winked at you because your eyes followed Steve, and you rolled your eyes at him as he left. The moment the door closed, Eddie’s grin fell, his jaw clenching tightly as your eyes found his, filled with nerves and uncertainty.

“I um…–”

“I knew you two were fucking, jesus fucking christ.” Your eyes widened, and you turned your head to look at Jeff but Eddie’s anger elevated yet it also calmed down slightly, knowing that Jeff knew about you two made you now untouchable, at least to his friend.

“You told him?” Eddie asked and your eyes found him again and now they were angry as your jaw clenched. He tilted his head in question only to then hear laughter from his friend. Eddie sighed as he ran a hand over his face, knowing he was the one who fucked up. 

“I didn’t. You just fucking did.” Your voice was coming through gritted teeth and Eddie glared down at you, and he felt a hand on his right shoulder. He turned to look at it, and seeing Jeff’s hand made him remember how it was on your waist minutes before. He licked into his bottom lip, turning to look at his friend.

“She didn’t, but I had my suspicions when she told me to act as if we were hooking up just now.” Jeff talked, sitting back on the hood of the car as he opened his bag of food. Eddie’s nostrils flared as he heard you sigh, making him look back at you.

“We had to do this sooner or later… or at least I had to. It was going to happen at one point that everyone would be in the same room–”

“So this means, that if we are in the same room with everyone else, you two will act all lovey-dovey like just now?” His words seemed to take you aback because your eyebrows met in the middle as you looked at him as if he had gone insane.

“Well, not lovey-dovey, but we gotta pretend Eddie.” Your words were sharp, while you crossed your arms over your damned chest, making his eyes gaze at it then back at your eyes, and then at his friend who sighed as he unwrapped his sandwich.

“Look, I can help, but– I have a relationship too, and it’s becoming serious and I don’t want it fucked over because of this.” Jeff clarified and that made you sigh, making Eddie look back at you as he felt his belly burn in the pits of hell for some reason.

“I promise it– I don’t know for how long but… it’s just so no one gets suspicious if we are at the same place and they don’t see us interacting at all…” Eddie rolled his eyes as he held back a displeased groan. He did not like those words coming out of your mouth. It sounded as if you were already putting an end to you both, and while his head started reeling, he failed to notice how his friend was looking at him.

“Well… Why not let them know? It’s… just fucking right?” Jeff’s words made Eddie’s head snap towards him, and their eyes locked for a second before you interrupted.

“Yeah but… it might cause issues in the group, just– It’s better this way.” You replied and Eddie’s jaw clenched tightly as he looked at the floor. Jeff shifted in the hood of the car, a smirk appearing on his face as he turned towards you.

“Then, it will be a pleasure to be your fake fuck buddy for as long as you need, sweet thing.” 

“Can you go have lunch somewhere else, Jeff?”

Eddie’s voice was sharp, rough, and filled with something that sent the other two people in the room shivers down their whole bodies, goosebumps pricking on their skin. Your eyes were locked on Eddie, and he knew you sensed something was going on. His fists were clenched as he kept his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still directed towards the floor.

“I still have work–”

“I will finish it, take the rest of the day off.” 

“But–”

“I’m your boss, do as I fucking say.” 

Silence.

Jeff slowly got off the hood of the car, and Eddie saw how he gave you one last look. Your eyes followed Jeff’s figure as he grabbed his things that were on the desk near the front door. Eddie cracked his neck as he heard the door finally shut, leaving the two of you alone in the shop. Your neck turned quickly, eyes filled with fire as you frowned in complete confusion and worry.

“Why did you treat him like that? He–” He didn’t even let you finish. He turned around and walked towards the stairs, going up towards his office and he knew you were going to follow. He would have smirked when he heard your soft heels against the stairs if it weren’t for the fact he felt himself as if he wanted to rip a wall open with his own fists. He walked towards his mini fridge, taking two beers out as he heard the door of his office close.

“Here.” He put a beer on the desk as he popped the other one open with his bare teeth, taking a gulp out of it. The coldness of it not helping at all with the burning in his stomach, the heat all over his body. 

“I have to head back to work, I can’t fucking drink– What the hell was that down there!?” Your voice was loud, now knowing the two of you were alone. His gaze fell on you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. That fucking office outfit–

“Don’t do that shit in my shop.” Your mouth fell in a big O, in complete disbelief and he knows he sounds crazy. He knows he sounds… weird, but he can’t help it. He really can’t help himself.

“I had to think fast! If I didn’t appear close to Jeff then Steve would grow suspicious! In his head, and Robin’s, and in everyone else’s, Jeff and I have been fucking for the past month and YOU were our wingman.” Oh, he took a long sip of his beer at that, because rationally, it made sense. Rationally, it was a good plan because Steve left content and, probably, with the intention of telling Robin about it, who will tell Nancy, and so on. It was a good plan.

But it doesn’t mean he liked it just because it's good.

“Did you think of Jeff’s relationship at all?” He was using something else to disguise his anger, and it was pitiful, it was pathetic, but what is he supposed to tell you? That he wants to scrub away Jeff’s hand prints off your waist? For what reason? With what motive other than his possessiveness?

“He said it was okay! His girlfriend is not part of your job group or ours, so we are fine!”

“And what about a club, huh? What if Steve decided to start inviting Jeff over for our outings? He thinks you are smitten, like romantically involved with Jeff.” You fell silent at that. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his ears ringing with something he could not fully describe. There was this feeling of hope, or need inside of him that he could not figure out what it was.

“Smitten? I– Why would I appear smitten?” It seemed his words got to you, because you walked towards the desk to grab the beer he left there, and you popped it open by smashing it against the edge of his desk, followed by a big gulp. The room grew tense, he felt it. He saw your body language, the nerves that suddenly invaded you, and he wondered if it was because of the situation, or rather something else.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because instead of doing some flirty googly eyes, you were smiling at him, caressing his cheek like a lovesick idiot, while he held your waist?” His voice was sharp, the edge of it as sharp as an ancient katana. He saw how thrown aback you looked, how confused that made you and he wanted to just erase that frown, wanting to replace it with your mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ as your eyes teared up thanks to him.

“It– It wasn’t that big of a deal! I thought it was a convincing action and the hand on my waist was not premeditated.” At your words, Eddie’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenching tightly as he realized it was Jeff’s fucking improvisation. He touched you, and not because you told him to. 

And how many were there like that? How many were like Jeff when he didn’t see you? When he didn’t meet you? How many were touching your waist, your thighs, your arms, your face, when he told you he was too busy? Or when you two simply didn’t contact eachother for that sole reason? Does he have a right to ask? 

But why the fuck does he care?

He has all the right to do the same. He shouldn’t be bothered by this but– He blames who he is. He blames this stupid thing he has to live with because if not, he cannot explain what is happening or why he feels this way. So possessive of you, so protective and like he wants to eat you whole the entire time you two are together, even if it’s just minutes. 

Yet the present was something he was focusing on, and that was, his friend is taking all the merit for what Eddie does to you. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. He knows you told Robin because the girl always joked about inviting Jeff to the get togethers, making you and him have a panicked exchange of looks, only for Robin to always laugh it off, that she would never overstep over your boundaries like that. Not when you weren’t ready.

But ready for what? He never got an answer.

“Yeah, good job tho! Your little act worked.” His voice was dripping with disgust, no sarcasm because it was the truth. Steve had bought into your show, and Eddie should be happy, glad and relieved it did… yet he started thinking that maybe it would not be so bad to tell the group about the two of you. You two are adults. They also fucked with eachother before becoming romantically involved–

Ah, he sees why he cannot tell the group. He sees why the two of you are hidden. The others didn’t hide it because they liked one another, romantically, and the sole purpose was to, in the end, get together. That was not the end with you. That would never be the end with you. 

“And who did you tell Steve you’re fucking, huh?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, taking a sip of your bottle, to then wave it towards his naked torso. He almost forgot he was not wearing a shirt still, looking down at his chest, the marks of your nails still there as well as on his stomach. 

“A friend of a client. A random non-existent person.” He replied with a flare of his nostrils and his eye clashed with yours, a scoff leaving your lips, shaking your head at him.

“Don’t start this shit again. It wasn’t the smartest decision when it came out of my mouth, but it was for this whole month our ticket to leave with one another without raising any suspicions! If it were a random person, why the fuck would you take me to their house all the time?” You took a long sip of your beer and Eddie’s fists clenched as his chest started burning, rumbling, like a fucking earthquake.

“Another client of mine.” He suggested, his eyes moving from your neck to the first buttons of your blouse. You didn’t notice him, still drinking your beer as you chuckled with almost no humor in your voice.

“Right, as if that weren’t suspicious at fucking all. What’s your problem, Munson?” You asked him, and he wondered if telling you would be wise, but tell you what exactly? He took a few steps towards you, seeing how your body stiffened as you stared at him, waiting for a response.

“I don’t have a problem. It’s just… Jeff being the one to take the credit for how fucking dumb you get when I fuck into you it’s almost funny.” Your mouth fell open at his words, huffing at him as you put the beer on top of the mini fridge, crossing your arms over your chest as you faced him.

“Me? Dumb? Should I remind you Munson who whimpered stupidly just because he got his balls sucked on?” You were playing a very dangerous game with him right now. This was not going to end in civil terms. Your perfume was invading him, your smell, just you. You were contaminating his entire space and he was growing a little dizzy thanks to it. His jaw clenched as he took another step your way, his gaze hard as you stood your ground.

“Baby, someone who gets drool and tears running down their face as she gets fucked into a mattress, should not play this game.” He could fucking feel you. He knew how much you wanted him right now, how aroused you were. He saw you shift in your place as you scanned his body, a cocky grin appearing in your face as you looked up at him.

“No one knows that… But you, everyone, will now know what I do to you, without them knowing it was me.” His jaw clenched as he felt the tip of your fingers running over your nail scratches, your bites on his shoulders, your hickies on his collarbone. Steve saw it all, and Eddie confessed to feeling incredible with you. Steve will tell Robin and Jonathan. 

“Yes. They will think that a random chick did this. Not you.” Your smile fell at his words, and he knew he hit your ego, but he was not ready for your response. He was not ready for the turn of events against him.

“And whatever you do to me, they will think Jeff did it. Not you.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He felt his arms shaking. He felt fire just running through his entire system and he didn’t know how to take it, how to tame it, or what it meant. This is not normal, yet he knows it isn’t new. His teeth clenched against eachother, and all he wanted now… all he needed… is to fucking show you that no matter what you say, it was still him. Everything was done by him. Every single thing you felt was thanks to him.

“You know Peach… I always liked this attire of yours.” He mentioned, putting the beer on top of the mini-fridge as he walked towards you, your head tilting to the side as if you were stupid when he knew you weren’t. 

“What does that mean?” And he walked behind you, his left hand grazing your shoulder to then slowly wrap it around your neck, not even pressing into it, and he dipped his head low to whisper in your right ear.

“That I’ve always wanted to lift that skirt up and fuck into you until you forgot about work altogether.” He heard your breath stuttering, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt him press his body against your back, his voice hoarse into your eardrum. “Think about it, a quick fuck before you leave…”

“Y-You’re crazy if you think I will let you ruin my suit.” You turned your head to look at him as he held you close, his head over your shoulder to look down at you. Your pupils were dilated, probably as much as his were. Your words died in your tongue completely as he saw you made no move to get away from his grasp.

And a smirk was displayed on his lips.

Not even ten minutes later, you two were in the same position, standing next to his desk, but your legs were spread, your panties down to your mid-thighs as your tube skirt was unzipped and pulled up, bunching up over your hips. His hands were grabbing onto your bent elbows for leverage as his knees were slightly bent in order to reach you. In order to be able to rail into you the way he was doing.

His pants and boxers bunched up on his feet, the open foil of a condom right next to them on the floor. Your head was thrown backwards as the sound of skin slapping over and over filled his entire office. He looked down to see his cock going in and out of your wet cunt, all the way, and almost all the way out. Repeating that motion in quick movements, deliberated. 

You were on your tippy toes, with your heels still on, in order to lift your ass to him as much as you could, arching your back so he had more access. He looked at how you jiggled against his movements, your moans coming out of your mouth with no restraint, knowing the two of you were completely alone now… or at least he hoped Steve didn’t decide to come back for something.

But for some reason, he would love that. He would love it for Steve to know it was never Jeff. For Steve to know just how good you two make eachother feel. For Steve to know that it’s you the one who marked him up. For Steve to know, and to tell everyone, that your disheveled hair, and the marks on your body, the ones he will surely leave now, were made by him.

He kept pounding into you, his grip on your arms tightening, his knuckles turning white as he groaned when he felt you fluttering all around him, just like you always did. Everytime he hit your g-spot, you fluttered. That’s how he knew he found it. And well, there’s also your moans–

“Eddie– Eddie– fuck!” He smirked in victory as he angled himself and pulled you into him, keeping himself seated against you after each hard thrust. Deep and brutal, knocking the breath out of your lungs, choking on your voice. He growled each time he felt his tip just hitting you in your deepest parts. The warmth all around him. The sound of your whimpers and cries in his ears. 

“Yeah, keep screaming my name, Peach.” He began to roughly fuck into you again, using you like a fucktoy, but that’s just because– His eyes diverted towards your waist, the image of Jeff’s hands on there, making him groan in anger, not wanting to think about that now. He is fucking into you, not touching you lightly just like Jeff did. He wins in this equation, doesn’t he?

He could hear the squelching of your juices with his thrusts, and he could feel the wetness all over his pelvis, his pubic hair, proof of how you were feeling with him, how you always felt with him and him only. 

But his eyes fucking went to your waist again.

He growled as he pulled out of you, making your knees tremble, your feet hitting the ground again and he noticed how weak your legs were. You whined in question, wondering why he stopped filling you the way he was. He made you turn around and take two steps back, slowly moving his feet with his pants and boxers still tangled around his ankles, trying not to trip on these two steps in order to follow you. 

He gripped your waist, his fingers burning, hoping that they somehow would brand their digits there and create a barrier so that no one– Fuck, no. No. He lifted you up on the desk, taking your panties off completely, and he threw them over his shoulder as he spread your legs so he could nestle between them.

You were breathing heavily, your blouse open, chest out with your bralette showing. Your blazer was still on, still buttoned, and it was just fucking delectable. You were holding yourself up with your hands behind you and on the desk. His face immediately leaned forward, capturing your lips in a strong kiss. He hadn’t kissed you since you entered his shop.

It was something he couldn’t really go without in the night or in every encounter you two had. He had stolen kisses from you in Steve and Robin’s kitchen. You had trapped him in Nancy’s apartment and kissed him senselessly. He had pulled you out of view in the club and under some stairs in order to rub himself against you, kiss you stupid, before letting you return to everyone and keep dancing.

You couldn’t not kiss eachother every time you saw one another. 

You moaned into the kiss, his hands going to hold your neck, both of them wrapping around it, his fingers overlapping onto one another in the back of your head, his thumbs hooked underneath your jaw. His tongue instantly invaded your mouth, a place that was its second home by now. If not in his mouth, it was in yours, dancing with your tongue, making a mess out of eachother. 

He went blind with it, thrusting his hips forward and luck was on his side when in two movements where the tip of his cock kissed your clit twice, the third time it caught on your slicked entrance. He huffed a laugh into the kiss with satisfaction as his hips pressed on, his dick disappearing once more inside of you. You stopped kissing him, yet you didn’t separate from him as you moaned into the kiss. 

He moaned your name into your mouth followed by a curse as he felt you engulf him once more. It will always be a new sensation, never fully sitting with him how he is going to go on without it once you decide to put an end to it, or in the crazy event, for him to be the one to do it. 

He pulled away from the kiss, his hand moving to press onto your chest, pushing you just slightly for you to get the hint. You let yourself fall backwards, glad that there was nothing on the desk that could be in the way, and if there were a few papers of clients underneath you, so what? He has the copies in a computer.

He grabbed the back of your right knee, giving a kiss on your calf as he pulled your leg on his shoulder. He repeated the process with your other leg and his hands grabbed onto your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin as if he were holding onto you afraid you would slip away from him. But it was because he wanted to mark you there. Particularly there.

He immediately started railing into you once again, the coil in his belly turning as he saw your mouth falling open, those eyes filling with tears of pleasure as his name tumbles out of your lips like a prayer. You bounced against his thrusts, the sight of your disheveled office attire making his mind short circuit as he felt himself burn. The outfit he wanted to ruin from the very first moment he realized he wanted to rip it off from you. He hoped you couldn’t put it back as perfect as it was before. He wished for people in your office to notice you were just fucked by someone. He wished people knew you were fucked stupid by him, only him.

“Look at you… yeah, I’m the only one that can make you feel like this Peach.” He said it with confidence because he knew he was. He has to be. If he weren’t you would have gotten tired of him by now, right? But he wanted you to say it, no, he needed you to say it. He needed you to admit he is the only one.  “Say it.” 

“Mhmm–” You couldn’t even pronounce a word from what he could see, but he was going to make you talk. He growled as he started to pull you to him each time he thrusted back into you, making his movements go deeper, and making them punch the air and soul out of you. His cock twitched inside of you at each tiny gasp you let out thanks to what he was doing to you.

“Come on, use words. I know you are a little cock drunk right now, but I’m sure you can manage this– Fuck–” He cursed when he felt your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, and that never gets old for him. All tight around the base, making him see stars. You were close, he was close, but he needed this. “Peach, I’m not letting you cum until–”

“You! Just you Eds– Fuck, just you–” You were breathing heavy, moans escaping you in between, and he groaned in pleasure at your words, relief washing over him and he didn’t know why. He just felt a little lighter than before. He decided to believe your words because who knows if you’re lying or not, but for some reason he knows you aren’t. He knows you are telling the truth. He is the only one who can make you feel like this, and hopefully, that makes him the only one you’re fucking for now.

“You make me feel good too Peach, perfect every time.” You moaned loudly at that, and he assumed it was because you liked what he said, he could feel your delight at his words. He felt his lower abdomen tighten, signaling how close he was getting, making him hiss. His right hand left your waist in order to wrap his arm around your thigh, his hand reaching your clit, fingers pressing onto it and immediately rubbing in circles to help you achieve your orgasm.

Your back arched from the desk as your hands grabbed onto the edges of it, your moans becoming whimpers and cries as he kept pistoning inside of you while rubbing onto your clit, feeling your walls tremble and flutter around him. 

“God– Baby– I’m–” The pet name slipped out of your mouth and it always drove Eddie to the edge. You never used them outside of sex, so this made them special. Eddie was panting through his moans as he kept his pace even if he felt his hips wanting to stutter, his climax right around the corner.

“I know sweetheart, I know, I can feel it. Come on–” And he growled, groaned, and moaned your name loudly when you clenched around him like a vice, tightly. His cock was engulfed completely by you, being sucked in as your back arched, your moans loud cries of his name as he kept circling your clit with his fingers, unable to move from how hard you were clenching around him.

He looked at how twisted in pleasure your face was, your body trembling and twitching as you rode your orgasm out. The sight before him was insanely perfect, hot, just a mix of everything that is good. You looked so beautiful when you were in complete pleasure, you looked… ethereal—made for him. Each fucking time.

“Eddie–!” And his name in your mouth in the middle of your orgasm was enough to make the elastic band snap for him, his abdomen finally feeling like it explodes as his body tightens, tenses up, and he finishes inside the condom, filling it to the brim as he always does. Spurt after spurt. He moaned loudly, his hips stilling deeply inside of you, twitching at every shot of his cum.

He felt his body drenched in sweat, and he was left breathless, panting, putting your legs down and slamming his hands on the desk, caging you in between him and the hardwood. Your eyes were closed as you tried to catch your breath, your chest moving up and down, his eyes going over your bare collarbones, your dark lace bralette still in full view for him. He looked at the skin on your neck, now seeing the mark of his hands, then a bite he gave you on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He marked you like you marked him.

“So much for not messing this little suit of yours, huh.” He said and that’s when your eyes opened, your head snapping to look at the clock that hung at the top of the door, quickly sitting up, making him pull away and out of you, the both of you groaning at the sensation of it. He quickly pulled his pants and boxers up, his eyes never leaving your form as you quickly buttoned your blouse back to place.

“Fuck, I have a meeting in ten fucking minutes!” You yelled and he could only chuckle, and he saw a smudge of your lipstick on the side of your face. He wanted to dart his thumb out, needing to wipe it off from you so you could be presentable, but that gesture was too intimate, wasn’t it?

“You didn’t mention that to me, can’t blame me for it.” He licked his lips cockily as you glared at him, jumping down from the desk, pulling your skirt down and zipping it on the back again. Your eyes looked around, frowning your eyebrows which made him tilt his head in question.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Oh, I have no clue. I threw it over my shoulder–”

“This is the third one! I am losing the underwear that goes with my bras! I have to wear mismatched colors!” Eddie rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t help it, you looked kind of adorable when you cared for stuff like this.

“I am the only one that sees them anyways, so why does it matter?” At his words, your head turned to look at him.

“Who says you’re the only one? Don’t act cocky.” And he flared his nostrils, looking at you, studying you, doing the one thing he never cared of doing before meeting you because he believed he was invading people’s privacy with it. 

“I know you’re lying now.” You turned your head to face him again, a puzzled look on your face, and also, surprised. Before you could talk, he opened his mouth again. “You will have to go commando for now, Peach. I’ll try to find your underwear.” 

“Yeah, sure, you’re probably going to keep it and sniff it like a pervert.” At your words, his eyes widened in surprise, and he started sniffing as if he were a dog. Loud and invading your space, making you snort out a giggle as you tried to swat him away like a fly. “I said like a pervert, not a cute angelic being!”

“Dogs are angelic beings? I once saw a man getting his dick bitten off by a rottweiler–” You winced at that and this is what it was being with you. He was a horny teenager ten seconds ago, and now you two are laughing as if… nothing happened. It was the perfect scenario. 

“Goodbye Munson, find my underwear! All of them! And no more hickies! I need to wear blouses and, unlike you, I meet with important business people almost everyday.” You said, fixing your skirt again, and then your hair. You’re probably going to notice the smudge of lipstick in the car.

“I meet important people too! You think that everyone owns a Ferrari sweetheart?” You stared at him for a few seconds and then you nodded, frowning your lips downwards with a nod.

“Good point.” You walked towards the door, opening it, ready to head out and this was one of the parts Eddie did not particularly like.

“Talk to you later, fuck buddy.” You flipped him off over your shoulder, closing the door behind you and he was left in the silence of his room, a huge contrast to what was happening ten minutes ago. 

It was a perfect scenario for sure… but that didn’t mean he liked it.

He didn’t know why, or what, but he didn’t want to be like he is with his other hookups, or rather was. You are a friend, and you two share something special unlike some random situationship. You two greet eachother normally, never with a kiss, and then when you bid your goodbyes… this was it.

A funny exchange of words, and then it’s him or you leaving out the door. He stayed over and you stayed over, yet, never once you two had morning sex. Rarely had breakfast together. He understood it, and he accepted it because, you two are nothing more than just friends who fuck… constantly fuck, and will never be, and he knew it and he accepted it. 

You also got out of a relationship, and most likely did not want another one at all, much less with someone like him. He decided to keep it this way. The waves from afar when saying goodbye, and no intimate gestures right after waking up. He took a deep breath in as he looked to his side, spotting your underwear underneath the metal archive drawers. He walked over and picked it up, looking down at it on his palm.

His gut turned with uncertainty as he looked at his door. He knew why he was angry before now that his mind is a little clearer. Right after having you. Right after you admitted what he needed to hear at that moment. He doesn’t want to say it or think on it, and maybe he shouldn’t. He wasn’t angry because of the whole plan. Sure he was being possessive but that’s just because of his nature and who he is, but it was more than that.

It was way more than what he dared to admit.

Because sure, Jeff had his hands on your waist…

But you never caressed his cheek the way you did to his friend.

end of chapter 20

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 9, Guess who's back

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Now that you've all had a nice portion of smut, here's some more angst <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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It's early in the morning but you feel like heaven is being bestowed upon you by God's favorite angel. You try to squeeze your thighs together as you stretch your body in your sleepy state, but they are held down.  

When you look down, you see your angel. A perfect picture of worship, pleasure, and sex. Just as he had promised when he offered you a free trial. His eyes are almost screwed shut, completely lost in the sweet nectar between your thighs. 

A rumbling feeling of pleasure builds up in you stomach as he splays his hand over top and pressed you down a little. You hadn't even noticed you started grinding against his face. His eyes are open now, wide awake, taking in every little detail of your body, your face, your movements. 

You untangle underneath him, thighs squeezing together but it does not matter. Sylus is far too strong to let himself be crushed by your thighs. Though he has tried to get you to do so in the past few weeks. 

The waves of pleasure subside, and he lays down next to you, pulling your body against him to cuddle. His thick cock is half hard, but you can feel his release against your skin. For some reason, that never wore off. He's always excited to eat you out. So much so that he comes himself nearly every time. 

When he does not wake you like this, you wake him the same way. Only difference is that he doesn't let himself finish until he's inside you. Or at least, he tries to. 

'Morning sweetie,' he grumbles against your neck, leaving adoring kisses littered over you skin. A smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss to his forehead. 

'Morning love.' 

'Do we have any plans today?' 

'I have to get packing for my trip with Zayne.' He groans in disagreement. 'Don't be like that. I told you you could join.' 

'Too many memories,' he says, his voice barely audible. You grab his chin and lift his face so that he's looking at you. 

'I know you don't want to talk about it and I know that you are healing, but we are going to have to talk about it one of these days,' you tell him in the gentlest voice you can manage. He nods and presses a kiss on you lips. 

'Then let me take this weekend to collect my thoughts. I'll be ready to talk to you after your trip.' 

'No,' you reply sternly, 'if this thing is as bad as I feel it is, you are not going to ponder over it all on your own for a whole weekend. Just tell me when you're ready.' 

'Okay.' 

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Your annual trip with Zayne once started just a few months after he moved in on complete accident. The trip was supposed to be with Tara, but she got terrible food poisoning the day before you two were supposed to leave. At that point, everything you two booked was nonrefundable. In a moment of despair, you went to Zayne and asked him if he'd like to go with you. This was just a few days after he started dropping off leftovers at your door. You figured it wouldn't be a terrible idea. 

If only you had known back then that it would lead to the most valuable friendship you have, you would've done it even sooner. 

The annual trip is always a weekend. A few things you two decided at the start is that it should be doable by car so that you two could leave Friday morning and return Sunday evening, only having to take one day of annual leave.  

Friday evening is always Zayne's turn to pick the restaurant because he likes to plan ahead. You pick on Saturday after strolling through the city all day. Surprisingly, both choices have never turned out all that terrible. 

When getting to the hotel on Friday, there is a mandatory one-hour nap. After that, it's time to explore the city. Then it's dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, reading together in the same room, going to sleep in separate rooms. 

On Saturday, Zayne has usually chosen a short nature hike in some nice scenery nearby. Then it's showering, going out to have lunch at some mom-and-pop shop, a little shopping, museum visits, and then dinner. After the whole Saturday you two usually retire to your own rooms right away, but sometimes there's some cuddling while one reads to the other. 

Then Sunday morning is "free time." Each does whatever and you meet up for lunch. After that is the drive home. 

It's truly not all that thrilling but you enjoy it majorly. You just love being around Zayne. 

Despite all that, you do have a strange iffy feeling about leaving Sylus behind. Maybe one day, when Zayne also has a partner, you could all go together. But right now, something just doesn't feel right. You have no clue what it is. Sylus was fine when you left, the house was fine, you checked your luggage three times. Still, it keeps nagging at the back of your head. 

'Are you alright?' Zayne's voice snaps you out of it. 

'Oh, yeah,' you hum in response, 'just a little worried about Sylus. I have this weird underbelly feeling I can't shake.' 

'Why don't you call him when we get to the hotel?' 

'I will,' you say with a smile, 'thank you for understanding.' You notice that strangely empathetic look in Zayne's face again. He knows something you don't and you know it's not his place to tell you, but you feel like you're out of the loop and it stings. 

'Did you two talk already?' You shake your head and cross your arms, leaning back in the passenger seat of his car. 

'He isn't ready to tell me yet. I get it, but it stings sometimes.' Zayne nods. 

'He'll tell you soon. I'm sure.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Being alone in his apartment shouldn't be strange to Sylus, but without your laughter it suddenly feels empty. He put on some music, but without you dancing around his living room it's not quite what he's used to.  

It's so strange. It has only been a few weeks, two months maybe, but he can't shake this feeling that he cannot go without you. You had given him your house key a few days back. Back than you explained that he would come over anyway, so what would it matter if he let himself in? Would that offer still stand now, when you're not there? 

He turns off his music and goes out into the hallway. It's just a few steps to your apartment but he gets interrupted. 

'Would you look at that. Long time no see, Sylus.' That voice. It scrapes it his head like nails on a chalkboard. His whole body tenses up as he looks down the hallway. It's her. She looks smug, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she looks Sylus up and down. Every inch of hair he has is standing straight up. 

'What are you doing here?' She pushes off the wall and saunters a few steps closer. Sylus doesn't want to take a step back, he doesn't want to be under her thumb again. It seems she's considering what to tell him, as if she hasn't quite thought of what she's doing here yet. 

'Visiting a friend,' she decides, 'you?' 

'Same,' he chooses to answer. After all, she was the first to leak his address. Better to be safe than sorry. She looks him up and down again and he realizes he's still wearing his house slippers and clearly coming from the last apartment with a key in his hand. She's always been very observant, so he doesn't doubt she knows exactly what he's doing here. 

'Hm,' she huffs, running her tongue across her lower teeth, 'doesn't look like it.' She takes another step closer, clearly liking how nervous he looks. 

'I don't have to explain myself to you.' 

'No, of course not,' her lips pull into an evil grin, 'but I can tell you want to.' The hallway feels ice cold, Sylus can feel himself shiver. With a slight quirk of her lips, she relaxes her body. 'Okay, don't tell me. I know you're probably hooking up with some girl for your little porn videos.' Her tone is so demeaning, it feels like a punch to the gut. Sylus has to keep himself from physically doubling over. 'I guess I'll see you around.' 

'I'd rather not,' he manages to say, his voice luckily keeping a steady tone. She pushes out her bottom lip, trying so hard to look hurt but her eyes are dead. There's no soul behind them, just a shell of a human with evil intent. 

'Ouch, I'm hurt darling. We had some fun.' She tries to reach out for him, but he flinches back. Her grin reappears. She got exactly what she wanted. 'See you soon, Sylus.' 

He watches her turn on her heel and walk down the hallway to the other end. Near the end of the hallway, she pulls out a key and sticks it in the lock. She turns her head to Sylus and sends him a wink. 

When she disappears into the apartment, Sylus feels physically sick. He runs into your apartment and bents over the toilet but nothing comes out. There he sits, a weak, pathetic man still under the thumb of his ex. A million questions run through his mind. 

"Why is she here?" 

"Did she know I live here?" 

"Is she really living here or is she visiting?" 

"Why does this have to happen now? Things were so good." 

"What do I do now?" 

The sound of his phone ringing pulls him out of it. He leans against the cold tile wall of your bathroom as he takes his phone out of his pocket, still feeling queasy. It's you. For a second he considers not picking up, but he knows he can't. He takes a second to breathe before picking up. 

'Hey sweetie, how was the ride?' It stays silent for a little bit. The nerves from just now have not yet subsided and a whole new wave washes over him when you don't talk. 'Sweetie?' 

"Are you okay?" Shit, his voice has betrayed him. 

'Of course. Why do you ask?' 

"You sound weird, and I've been having this weird feeling that something happened." Thank fuck for your superstition. He can get out of this without making you want to return from your trip early. 

'I just worked out and-' 

"You didn't," you say, cutting him off, "you never work out on Fridays. I know you better than that." It's his turn to fall silent. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand to wipe off something itchy. When he pulls his hand back, he sees a wet spot. He's crying. 

'I'm fine.' 

"You're not. Please don't lie to me." He hates how you know him so well already, hates that you can tell he's not alright, hate that you care so much for him. At this moment he just wants you to take his words for truth. "Alright, I'm going back." 

'No, please don't,' his voice trembles. 'I want you to enjoy your time. Please.' 

"Fine, but then you're driving up here. Something clearly happened and I don't want you to be alone." 

'No, this is your time with Doctor Zayne. I wouldn't want to-' 

"Zayne! Can Sylus join us tomorrow?" "Of course." Doctor Zayne speaks without hesitation. Sylus can't quite wrap his head around why he would be so kind to him. It doesn't matter though. You've made up your mind, so: "You're coming." 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

After dinner, you and Zayne sit down with your books but neither of you is in a mood to read. He places his book on his lap and turns to you. 'So what happened with Sylus?' 

'I don't know. He wouldn't tell me, but he sounded terrified.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

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[kirain]

Your headcanon that Emmrich's right arm is always gloved because he has scars from when he tried to pull his parents out of a collapsed burning building is now OFFICIAL canon as far as I'm concerned. Can we please get a fic of Emmrich being self conscious about the scars? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Oh wow, thank you! 🥺 Here you go, anon!

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with an ominous orange glow that seemed to taunt Emmrich. Vae sat opposite of him, her hands resting in her lap as she waited. Though usually cheery and confident, Emmrich trembled ever so slightly, his head bowed as though the weight of the moment pressed heavily on his shoulders.

"All right," he whispered.

Vae reached out, her touch light as she took his gloved hand in hers. "I'll go slow," she said softly.

Despite her promise, Emmrich's breath hitched, his back tensing. As she began to slip off the ornate rings and bracelets that adorned his fingers and wrists with a gentle tug, his eyes squinted shut, his brow furrowed and twitching. When the last piece of jewelry fell into her palm, he flinched, and Vae paused, worry overtaking her curiosity.

Quickly, her hand moved to cup his cheek. "It's all right," she soothed, her thumb brushing against his skin. "You're all right."

His breathing steadied just enough for her to continue. Carefully, she removed the heavy bracer next, the worn leather scraping against the golden rim as it slid free.

"You're doing great," Vae praised as she set it down on the night stand. "We're almost there."

But when she reached for his glove, Emmrich suddenly pulled his arm away. "I'm sorry," he wheezed. "I can't."

Vae froze, her heart twisting at the anguish in his voice. His expression was one of shame, his face turning away from her. After a moment, she reached out again and guided him back.

"Emmrich," she said, her tone laden with compassion. "Look at me. Please." He hesitated, but opened his eyes to meet hers, the vulnerability in his gaze almost too much for her to bear. "I won't push you," she vowed. "But you need to know—nothing about you could ever disgust me."

He sighed deeply, shivering under the weight of his self-doubt. "The scars... they're unseemly," he warned, gripping his wrist so hard it caused Vae to wince. "It's already a miracle you want to be with an old codger like me. My body is—"

"Stop," Vae pressed, forcing a playful smirk. "You're in better shape than I am."

A weak chuckle escaped him, though it carried a deluge of sadness. For her, he was trying to push through, masking the pain beneath, but she realised the truth.

He wasn't ready.

"All right," she said, rising to her feet. "Let's get some dinner, then."

"Vae?"

"Sweetheart, I said I'm not going to push you. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but you clearly are." She gestured to the door without a hint of malice or disappointment. "I can wait, however long it takes. For tonight, let's forget this and have a nice—"

Before she took a step, Emmrich's hand shot out, grasping her wrist with surprising persistence. "Wait," he begged, his voice cracking.

She turned back, startled to find him glaring up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, releasing his grip. "I do want to do this. It's just... I'm frightened it will change the way you see me."

Vae's expression softened, and she knelt before him, placing a tender hand on his knee. "Emmrich, do you really think so little of me?"

He froze, guilt flickering across his face. "What? No, of course not! I only meant—!"

His jaw clenched, the contradiction hitting him like a bolt of divine judgement. Vae was young, but she was a woman, and she had chosen to be with him—for better or worse. To assume she would leave him over his past, over some marred skin, was indeed an insult to her character.

But it wasn't true. He trusted her. However difficult, however loudly the voice in his head screamed that she'd recoil at the sight, he trusted her, and he wanted to prove it—even though he knew she'd never demand it. Slowly, he took a breath and offered his arm, the motion hesitant but resolute.

Vae gasped, staring up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I'm sure."

"All right, then. Stop me, if it's too much for you."

With the utmost care, Vae began to unbutton the long glove, her fingers working indulgently until the fabric slipped free. What lay beneath made her heart ache: a web of burn scars stretched across the top of Emmrich's hand, climbing up and around his forearm. The angry, uneven texture spoke of unimaginable pain and resilience.

"Darling..."

There were so many things she wanted to say, but as the image of an innocent boy crying out for help flashed in her mind, all she could do was stare; not with disgust, but with sorrow for the suffering he had endured.

But Emmrich misunderstood her silence, and his incessant need to fill the quiet overwhelmed him. "It got pinned under debris," he explained, his voice shaking. "Burning rubble, when I tried to clear the wreckage for my parents. I know it's hideous. I have full mobility, but the epidermis never healed quite—"

Before he could finish, Vae leaned in and pressed her lips to the top of his discoloured knuckles. The simple act silenced him, his words catching in his throat.

When she pulled back, she hugged his arm to her chest, holding it like a precious artefact. "I love you, Emmrich," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Scars and all. They're a part of you, and they make you even more beautiful in my eyes."

He whimpered, then pulled her into a tight embrace, his scarred hand cradling her head. Though his reaction was unexpected, Vae smiled and leaned into his chest, her arms wrapping around him like a vice.

"Thank you," he sobbed, his scorched fingers quivering in her hair. "Thank you, my darling."

"You silly man," she moaned, her own eyes welling with tears. "You have nothing to thank me for."

In that moment, the pain Emmrich always seemed to feel disappeared, the weight lifted. His whole life, he'd seen those gruesome marks as a reminder of his failure, but Vae saw something else entirely.

A symbol of his devotion and bravery.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[paxaz535]

Brothers Best Friend

♡pairing ♡

paige x black!oc

chapter v

series here

——————

When Makayla, Emma, Daveli, David and Paige all arrived to the very nice hotel, it was already four. They really didn’t expect anyone to be there because, let’s be honest, who’s really on time for real? if anything, Eli was quite relieved, she wanted to get herself situated before she had to greet anyone anyways.

“Who all did you really invite, David?” Paige asked her best friend as they all stood on the elevator. David chuckled nervously as everyone looked at him. “Oh you know.. just Derek, Lonzo, jayden and his homies.” Eli squinted her eyes. “That’s it?” She questioned. She had a feeling he had more people sliding. David waved her off, “Don’t worry about all that.. just know we gon be lit.” Emma, Makayla and Eli shared a look, they had a feeling something was gonna go down.

As the group of 5 made it to the 4th floor, they all stepped out the elevator. Eli looked down the hall to see pink decorations around her door. She squealed, already getting excited. Makayla and Emma giggled while David and Paige just grinned. “Guys..”

When they made it to the door, Makayla handed her the key card. Eli was cheesing, happily taking the card and unlocking the door. When she walked in, she let out a big gasp. It was pink and black balloons all around the living area, she picked one up and walked further in. She looked towards the kitchen to see a huge ass cake sitting on the counter with her picture on it. It was chips, candy and just a whole bunch of goodies sitting around. Eli couldn’t help but cover her mouth, she was getting emotional.

“Yall didn’t..” She spoke out of shock. Emma stood by the bed room door. “In here is all the good stuff.” She spoke as she opened it. Eli turned around and before she could even step inside, she saw a mini pile of presents. She quickly walked in to see a big pink sign in balloons on the window that said ‘Happy Birthday Daveli’ and more balloons on the ceiling. it was a number 18 right next to the bed with pink pebbles on the bed.

She saw a led light ball in a corner meaning when it got darker, they’d display it and make the room look pretty. It was heart balloons by the bathroom, she noticed mini portraits of her around the room, some with David, some with Paige and some with Makayla in it. It was one with her and Emma on the tv stand and she noticed every one of them.

She was crying by now, they put so much thought into the room and she couldn’t have ask for better friends. She quickly turned towards them and hugged everyone one by one. “Thank you, thank you. this is too cute. I love yall so much.” She spoke, tears still coming down. They all chuckled, seeing the girls reaction.

Paige then remembered, “I have one more thing for you.” She spoke and ran out the room. Daveli was confused and looked at David. He shrugged, “Imma go get myself situated in my room. my peoples should be here soon.” The girls just nodded, eli going back to gawking at the room.

She quickly took a picture and automatically posted it on her story.

daveli.lili added to their story !

(pretend it’s still light out)

When Paige came back with the flowers, she stayed outside the door, texting Eli to come out. When Daveli got the message, she was even more confused. “Paige just texted me to come out.” She told the two girls in the room. Makayla and Emma looked at each other, then back at the 18 year old.

“Then go!” Eli widened her eyes and nodded, quickly leaving the bedroom. When she opened the door, she saw Paige with a huge bouquet of flowers. They were pink, just like her favorite color. Her eyes went wide again and a gasp left her. “Happy Birthday, Eli.” The blonde spoke softly as she gave the flowers to the girl.

“Paige..” Eli looked at them and back at the blonde. She quickly gave her a hug, squeezing the girl tightly. When Paige gave her a squeeze back, Eli smiled big. Hugging Paige has always been the best feeling Eli could endure, paige was always warm and smelled so good. “Thank you, p. I love you.” She spoke softly and leaned into her until she couldn’t.

“I love you too, D.” But not in the way she wanted her to. Hearing Paige say that was music to her ears, but she knew p didn’t mean it in the way she longed for. The girls were so busy wrapped around each other, they didn’t see Azzi, Carol and Jaida walk up. Jaida was the one to disturb the moment, clearing her throat.

The two separated, not knowing the three was standing there. “Hi there.” Azzi spoke in a teasing tone, making Paige blush out of embarrassment and Daveli look away, trying to hide her smile. “Wassup, yall.” Paige spoke as she gave Carol and Azzi a hug. She dapped up Jaida and smacked her back.

Azzi and Carol approached Eli, teasing smiles on their faces. “Hi, birthday girl.” Azzi spoke and gave her a hug. “Hey, Azzi.” She cheesed and turned towards Caroline. “You’re carol, right?” The brunette nodded, a shy smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, happy birthday!” The two went in for a hug, making Eli smile wider. She loves hugs, if you couldn’t tell.

“Thank you!” Paige and Jaida then walked up, looking at the 18 year old. “Eli, this is Jaida. I told you about her.” Eli nodded, giving the brownskin girl a quick look up and down. She had on baggie jeans with a pink hoodie. Her hair was in a slick back ponytail with a puff in the back. She had a grey and pink beanie on, the girl was screaming gay. She was a stud, Eli’s type.

“Nice to meet you, jaida.” She spoke as they hugged, “You too, eli. Happy birthday, pretty.” Daveli smiled, leading them towards the room. Paige gave Jaida a discreet look before turning towards Eli. “Oh, they showed out. It’s nice in here.” Azzi spoke as they all walked in the hotel room.

“Keep that door open!” Jaida turned around to see a light skin girl, she had stitch braids with a pink juicy couture outfit and a black travel bag. “Who’s that?” Paige whispered. Jaida shrugged, she was intrigued on who this girl was… until a man came jogging after her. Paige stilled a laugh, seeing Jaida’s face drop. The brown skin turned towards the blonde and flicked her forehead, Paige rubbed it and walked into the room fully.

“Thank you. Derek, hurry up.” She called as Derek was still two doors away from them. Derek just smacked his lips, speed walking towards his girlfriend. She let out a big sigh, keeping the door open for him, Jaida was already inside, going towards everyone else.

The couple walked in, taking in the environment. “You seem excited as fuck to be at your opp’s party.” Derek spoke as he and Nai sat on the couch. She turned towards him, “I only came here because of you, don’t piss me off.” She spoke as she smacked on her gum, leaning back and getting on her phone.

Inside the room everyone was chilling, Emma and Makayla already changed into their swim suits. “Yo.. it’s some light skin girl and her nigga out there.” Jaida spoke as she sat next to Azzi. Daveli froze, slowly turning towards Makayla. Makayla had the same look on her face, then they both looked at the rest of the girls.

“Woah.. what happened?” Carol asked as she noticed their whole demeanor’s changed. “That’s Nai.” Emma spoke. Daveli gagged just hearing her name, making Paige eyes go wide. “That was Nai?” She asked, she never really paid attention to the girl before but now putting a name on her face made her realize. Emma went on to explain what happened so the girls could be caught up.

Daveli just sighed, looking at Makayla. “Whatever, it’s my day. No bad energy.” Makayla nodded, a smile on her face. Daveli then went to the bathroom to change into her two piece, taking paige’s flowers with her. She took a picture before she changed and posted it.

Daveli added to their story !

She then changed into her pink two piece and put a black cover up on. She came out and everyone was either getting their stuff out of their bags or just lounging around. “Yo!” David voice rung out. “What’s up, David?” Derek spoke, dabbing him up. “Hi, david.” Nai’s voice could be heard, making Eli make a mug look on her face. Emma and Azzi laughed and David heard, busting inside the room.

“Ayeeee, What’s up yall!?” Everyone spoke back, Jaida getting up to dap the curly head up. “This might not be my actual room but that still doesn’t give you a reason to bust in, David.” Eli spoke as she put her clothes away. David looked at her, a bored look on his face. Eli shot her eyes out at him, popping her neck.

There was a knock at the front. “I got it!” Derek spoke. When he opened the door, he saw Lonzo, Jayden, Mj, and 3 more girls. “Wassup?” He greeted and let them in. “Hey, Nai!!” A girl yelled as she ran towards her. She had strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes. Nai shot up, seeing her friend. “Hey, Mia!!” They hugged and began talking. The other two girls were looking for Daveli, actually wanting to speak to her.

Derek lead them to the room to see everyone laughing at something Eli was talking about. “Is that Daveli Corjay Robertson?” Daveli eyes widen, looking at her two friends. “Yall are feds!” She smiled and walked towards them, hugging them tightly.

When they pulled away, Eli faced everyone. “This is Connie and Caniya. Yes, they are twins.” She spoke, the two sisters already had their swimsuits on so they just sat their bags down and waved at everyone.

“Yall are pretty as hell.” Carol complimented. The twins smiled, thanking the brunette and giving her a compliment as well. “Alright, I think everyone’s here, yea?” David spoke as he stood up. Eli looked around, nodding her head. As much as she disliked Nai, she didn’t want the girl to be clueless on what’s going on. She noticed the gift corner got bigger, making her internally smile.

“Yo, can you tell them to come by the door so I don’t have to repeat myself?” She asked as she wiped off her make up from earlier. Derek nodded and poked his head out. “Yall, come here.” Nai and Mia stopped mid conversation and stood up, standing by the door.

“Okay! First of all, I wanna say thank you for coming to this, i was lowkey stressing but we here.” Everyone cheered, the girl hearing happy birthday’s. She just smiled and continued. “Secondly, I just wanna let everyone know the plans, alright? I rented out the pool from 6 to 10 but you’re free to leave and come up to get comfortable whenever. I’mma probably leave early because dinner won’t be here till like 9. David has his own room so his peoples can stay with him.” Everyone nodded, understanding what was going on.

Eli looked at her phone. “Well, it’s almost 6 so whoever needs to get changed, go ahead. Where’s the speaker?” She asked as she slid on her slides. “I got it.” Jaida spoke as she picked it up. Eli smiled, winking at the girl. Daveli started to get everything she needed and she started making her way downstairs. Makayla, Emma, Paige, Azzi, Carol and Jaida was behind her, them already being ready.

When the girls were on the elevator, the blonde decided to talk. “Yo, who was that girl with Nai?” Paige asked. Eli side eyed her secretly, why is she worried about it? Emma, being the bright one she is, answered happily. “Oh, that’s Mia. They be attached to the hip.” Paige nodded her head, looking over at Jaida.

Jaida shook her head, smirking in the process. Daveli peeped the whole thing, looking over at Makayla to see her face. Makayla lips went into a straight line, knowing exactly what her best friend was thinking. Azzi and Carol also shared a look, silently watching the interaction. The two gays didn’t seem to notice the slight shift, going on their phones.

Daveli couldn’t— wouldn’t let that ruin her night, it’s her birthday. Fuck everything else. The elevator finally got to the first floor and everyone emptied out, walking towards the pool.

When they reached it, they were shocked to see how big it was, this hotel was expensive and the pool probably proved that. “Holy shit, eli.” Carol muttered, everyone was surprised. Daveli giggled, speed walking towards a lounging chair. “Well, come on let’s get wet.”

“Ayo?”

next chapter will be based off a flash back

i’m excited for that

taglist - @melpthatsme @prettygirl-gabi @rebecca-woso @starfulani @avvwritesstufff @evry1luvzzae

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Ellen, Orlok and Windows

Aside from the lilacs, another visual narrative device that showcases Ellen and Orlok connection in “Nosferatu” (2024), are windows. This is a reference to the Romanian strigoi folklore; where strigoi are said to appear at their loved one’s windows, at night, asking for entrance. I talk more about the strigoi legend in this post. This is most likely the origin of the “vampires need to be invited in” lore.

Orlok makes his first appearance to Ellen; the window is open, she’s inviting him into her life (haunting), cursing herself in the process.

Symbolically, windows are a veil between life and death, a portal between the known and the unknown, and a barrier to the supernatural. Windows also represent liberation, freedom and escapism from real life. Windows also serve as a mirror of our true selves, as they encourage self-awareness.

The window in “Nosferatu” also references another inspiration for this story: “Wuthering Heights” novel by Emily Brontë; where there’s the theme of “Catherine’s window”. In this story, windows (and doors, too) are usually connected with Catherine and Heathcliff’s separation and his inability to reach her. In “Nosferatu”, we also see this: in the prologue, Ellen’s window is wide open (when she meets and develops a relationship with Orlok), then it’s shut (symbolizing their separation) until the second and third act, when she asks him to come to her (union).

The next time we see windows in connection to Ellen is when Thomas is leaving for work, and she realizes Herr Knoch will send him away. The prologue has established windows in connection with her and Orlok; and it’s later revealed that Ellen has premonitions; why does she look at the window? Does she senses Thomas will be sent to Orlok?

The next scene is Ellen cutting a strand of her hair and put it in a locket. She does this in front of the window and the music in this scene is very eerie, and her mind appears to be elsewhere.

While at the surface, this act seems like a gift to Thomas, it is really? In the Victorian era, it was common to keep locks of hair from deceased loved ones in pieces of jewelry, especially lockets. Later, Orlok recognizes the scent of lilacs on her hair, and keeps the locket for himself, and is able to reach her, once again.

Indeed, when Thomas tells Ellen that Orlok has her locket, she doesn’t have much reaction to it, because, maybe, that was her intention all along. Again, another reference to the strigoi folklore.

Ellen and Orlok are reconnected through the locket. And she knows Orlok is coming to Wisburg, for her. She stands by the window, waiting?

Meanwhile both Thomas and Orlok arrive at Wisburg. Thomas is relieved Orlok has not got to Ellen. Yet. Later, when Ellen is asleep next to Anna, she wakes up and goes to the window, opening it and granting Orlok entrance into the Hardings house, and cursing everyone there as a consequence.

On the third night, when Ellen is willing to re-pledge herself to Orlok, and accept his covenant -(“you shall be one with me ever-eternally”; “our spirits are one”); which is “weird kind of sacred marriage” as Robert Eggers calls it; explaining the need to consummate it, - she opens the window, calling for him.

Ellen invites Orlok into her and Thomas’ house, which was one place he didn’t had access to, previously. So, indeed, she’s the one who commands him, in a way. Ellen is the one who grants or denies Orlok access to places.

The next reference to the window is the morning, after both Ellen and Orlok are physically dead and their spirits have been set free by the breaking of the Nosferatu curse.

[joeyspuckbunny]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅flu season - j. woll⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: It's flu season in Toronto and Joseph gets pneumonia. Oh no !! This is just a little snippet of Y/N taking care of him while his body fights against this virus. request: since woller is sick at the moment would you be able to write something where he’s not feeling well and you’re taking care of him? word count: 1019 warning(s): kinda short, not proof read notes: i had pneumonia over the summer and it was the worst experience of my life. i was dead for like two weeks and it took my 4 months to fully recover. really channeling that energy into this fic. i hope you love it !! xoxo

Your favourite grocery store was empty on this Thursday morning in January. It's cold but there is no snow on the ground. It's about 9 AM as you wander around the produce section, grabbing things to make soup for your sick boyfriend, who is currently lying at home with pneumonia.

Chicken, got it. Celery, got it. Carrots, got it. Noodles, got it. Might as well grab some cold medicine while you're here.Y ou stand in the checkout line and wait for the young girl (maybe no older than 18) to finish scanning your groceries.

"I can bag them, love, don't worry," you say, pulling out your debt card to pay. She smiles and says, "You have a lovely day".

"You too".

The drive home is long and tedious. Downtown Toronto is bustling now. People on their way to work, getting coffee, dropping their kids off at school. These are mundane moments you cherish. Dating a pro athlete is hard when all you want is some peace. He's always gone or busy. Sometimes it's nice to not have to rush home after work to head to a game or dinner or the gym.

You took work off today after Joseph's diagnosis yesterday. He was upset that he would be out of the Toronto Maple Leafs line up for the next few games. Taking the day off to take care of him was the least you could do to cheer him up. In fact, he practically begged you.

"Joey, baby, I'm home," you open the door to you shared condo and hear the tv from your bedroom. After setting down the grocery bags and your purse, you take off your coat and hang it up in the closet. Nothing has changed since you left your apartment earlier. You wander down the hall and into you bedroom, seeing Joe half-asleep, tucked into bed watching Big Bang Theory. Exactly how you left him.

He turns on his side slightly when he hears the door open. "Hmmm, you're home," he blinks slowly and smiles softly, sighing. It's good to see that he can take deep breaths without coughing a lung up. You make your way over to the bed and sit down beside him. He leans on you. "How are you feeling, sweetie?", you ask, running your fingers through his tangled hair. He just nod, "I'm feeling ok". You nod.

"Eat anything yet?"

He nods his head and points to the empty bowl on the nightstand, "Oatmeal with banana". "Good," you say in response, "I have the thermometer. Open wide". He does as he's told. The thermometer beeps after a few seconds under Joe's tongue. It reads 100.5 degrees. "Still have the fever," you say. You put your hand on his forehead, leave it for a second and then trace your fingers over his stubble covered cheek. "Ok, now antibiotics," you hand him two pills and a glass of cold water from his nightstand. He sits up a little bit and tosses back the pills. As he swallows, you give him a quick kiss on his warm forehead.

After being in a few long term relationships you have learnt a few things. One of those things being that when men are sick, all they want is someone to take care of them. They will listen to anything you say as long as you are helping them through their ailment. Whether it be a cold or cancer.

"I got your mom to send me her soup recipe. I'm gonna make a whole pot of it for the next few days," you open your phone and show him the recipe, "It's chicken noodle". He nods, "Sounds good". You get up to leave and get started on the soup, but Joe grabs your hand.

"What?" you turn, a confused look on your face. "Stay with me, baby, please," Joe looks up at you, his big blue eyes boring into your soul, like a little puppy. "I just ate. I'm not hungry and..." he fake coughs, leading him to cough very hard for real, "I'm sick".

You sigh. You really should get started on the soup, but he looks so sad and sweet, lying there waiting for you to lay down next to him. He pats the white comforter beside him as if to beckon you into his warm embrace. You smile and say, "Only for a bit, Joe. I need to start on the soup," while climbing in beside him.

About 45 minutes go by and Joe is fast asleep on your shoulder. You laugh slightly at the sight of his open mouth and the sound of his snores.

You called his mother yesterday to see if you could do anything to make him feel more at home (because Toronto in the winter is very different than St. Louis) and she said, "No, sweetheart, he just needs to rest. I'm a firm believer that sleep is the best medicine but that's especially true for our Joey. Been like that since he was a kid". Your remember the smile on your face when she said "our Joey". You had only met Shelley, his mom, once or twice, but she had been so welcoming that you felt like you'd known her for years.

Joe looks so peaceful while sleeping. He always does, but because he is sick, he looks it even more. You lean down slowly and go in to kiss him, but before you can, he wakes. "Hey there, Joey, feeling ok?" you say, with a small smile. He groans, stretching his back and arms, "Yeah. I feel better". He takes another deep breath and rubs his eyes. You smile and kiss his cheek, "Wanna come help me make the soup now?".

"Sure. Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for taking care of me. You're the greatest girlfriend ever. I'm gonna marry you one day. I promise."

You are slightly taken aback by his comment but, nevertheless, you smile. How lucky could you possibly be? Getting this perfect man and being able to call him yours. "Of course, Joe, I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N"

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Twenty Two

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

The car door slammed behind me as I fumed with anger, the steam cascading over the windows. I tried to steady my breathing, deep breath in then deep breath out. I did this a few times until I felt all of my anger dissipate through my body. Being alone with Bucky had brought up so many past feelings that I knew if I didn’t force myself to leave, it would have ended with us naked on his couch. 

Not wanting to drive quite yet, I spent the last few minutes browsing my phone when a post from Natasha on instagram popped up. My breath caught in my throat, the ultrasound staring back into my face. 

Twelve weeks today!

I read the caption a few more times, something not quite sitting right in my gut about this whole thing. There was confusion on the dates; she told me almost two months ago that she was six weeks so shouldn’t she be at the very least 14 weeks? Also the fact that I swore I saw her at Big Mike’s bar earlier today but couldn’t prove it, the lighting being too dark. 

Curiosity got the best of me and I took a screenshot of the picture, deciding to look it up online. I wanted to be completely sure with my assumption before making an ass out of myself in front of Bucky. 

“I fucking knew it!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing throughout my small car. 

The picture that Natasha posted had immediately shown up on google, at least thirty pictures, with the same position of the fetus and everything. The only difference, she must have photoshopped her info on the sonogram. A womens clinic in town had it posted on their website which must have been where Natasha found it. 

She was faking the pregnancy. But why? 

Unless she found out about the divorce and thought it would be the only way to keep Bucky? 

Or.

“Oh, fuck!” I cursed, the realization slamming into me like a freight train. 

Natasha knew about Bucky and I. 

I saw Bucky’s car was still in the parking lot so I bolted from my car back inside of the office, his name falling from my lips. 

He quickly came out of his office, eyes filled with worry. “What’s wrong?” 

“She knows.” 

Bucky raised a brow. “What?” 

I sighed while tossing my things back onto my desk. “Natasha knows about us.” 

His pupils went wide for a moment. “How do you know?” 

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek because I wasn’t entirely sure on how to bring this up without making him upset. 

“I can’t,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you exactly how I know but trust me, Natasha knows about the affair.” 

Bucky ran a hand over his jaw and let out an annoyed breath. “You want me to trust you?” 

My head shook feverishly but did nothing to assure him. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Bucky turned his back to me and went back into his office. 

I scoffed loudly. “Excuse me?” 

He sat on his couch while I came to a halt in front of him, hands on my hips. “How well do you trust Natasha?” 

Bucky’s lips twitched. “She’s my wife.” 

“Seriously? This is why I can’t tell you!” I exasperated . 

He stretched his arms over the back of the couch. “You have this thought that Natasha knows about us but won’t tell me what makes you think that. 

I shifted on my feet. “Can you promise to listen to everything I have to say?” 

When he nodded, I took a deep breath in an effort to gain the courage I had been seeking. 

“I think she’s faking her pregnancy.” 

Bucky leaned his elbows on his knees, jaw clenching with anger. “What?” 

“Okay, so.” I began to pace around the office, unable to look him straight in the eyes; his piercing blue eyes. “Nothing about it makes sense. When you first told me about the pregnancy, you said she was a few months along but when I saw her a few days later, she said she’s only a few weeks along.” 

“Today, she posted a picture of her sonogram and said she was three months today but that doesn’t make sense, she should be almost five months.” 

I stopped in my tracks momentarily to look at Bucky, who simply watched me with a raised brow. 

“Then I swear I saw her at Big Mike’s bar drinking. Or, well it looked like it was her. It was too dark inside so I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

Bucky slowly raised to his feet while placing his hands on his hips. “Are you done?” 

I nodded while taking a breath, needing more oxygen after rambling for the last couple minutes. 

“You’re only saying this because you’re upset that I decided to stay with Natasha.” Bucky said.

I sneered with my top lip curled. “Did you forget that I was the one that decided to end things?” 

His brow raised at me. “So why are you even here, Y/N? To tell me lies in hopes I divorce Natasha so you can get what you want?” 

My eyes stung with his words, welling with tears. “That’s not why I brought this up. I thought you should know that she’s lying to you and it's because she knows about us. She’s trying to do whatever she can to keep you.” 

“The only proof you have is a gut feeling,” Bucky pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “I can’t bring this up to her without it.” 

“Can’t you trust my word? I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Bucky.” I pleaded. 

He looked at his feet with his head hung low. “She doesn’t know about us. We were always so careful.” 

My fingers itched to reach for him, forcing him to look into my eyes to see that I was telling the truth. Our personal feelings aside, Bucky didn’t deserve to be lied to. I only wished I had some sort of proof. 

“Bucky,” I breathed while grabbing his hand to give it a squeeze. 

He finally looked up and my breath hitched when he stepped closer towards me, his body heat engulfing around us in our own personal bubble. 

“You don’t deserve this,” I told him. 

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice cracked. 

The magnetic pull between us had returned and with a quick low scoop of lips, he pressed them against mine and I froze for a second before melting into him, my hands quickly finding his hair. Bucky’s vibranium hand grasped my cheek to deepen the kiss; his tongue wrapped around my own. 

“No!” I pushed him away. “Why did you do that?!” 

Bucky reached for me and I responded by smacking him, hard, across his face. His eyes darted down to the ground while licking his lips, teeth digging into his bottom one.  

“Stop it!” 

The tears fell from my eyes as I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have come back inside.” 

“I’m sorry, doll. I know it’s wrong but it feels so right being with you.” 

I pushed his chest hard which made him stumble back onto his couch. “I don’t care! You can’t continue to have your wife and me on the side. I know she’s faking the pregnancy but that doesn't mean she continues to deserve this.” 

“For once in your life, Bucky. You don’t get whatever you want,” I cried while wiping the tears away. 

“If you bring me proof that she’s lying, I’ll go through with the divorce,” Bucky said. 

I stared at him, dumbfounded, and slowly shook my head. “I shouldn’t have to do that. If you loved me like I love you, you would trust what I’m saying.” 

Bucky blinked, my confession not going over his head like I wished it would. “Wh-what?” 

“I love you, Bucky even though I tried not to fall for you because I knew what it only meant in the end.” 

I motioned between us. “You said it yourself; you can’t love people easily.” 

“I’ll try-.” 

“Don’t you get it?!” I screamed, interrupting him. “I can’t keep doing this! I did my best to be strong around you, tried to go back to normal but the second I’m alone with you I throw everything out the window. All I want to do is kiss you, love you, but I can’t because you won’t leave her!” 

There were fresh tears streaming down my face as I choked out a sob. This was something I feared to do, not wanting to leave everyone I met here behind. But I knew, deep in my gut, that mentally I couldn't stay any longer. 

“I quit.” I managed to get out through the sobs. 

Bucky was fast on his feet. “You don’t have to leave, Y/N.” 

“I do,” I cried. “Because if I stay, it’s only going to bring me more pain and my heart can’t handle any more.” 

“Please,” he begged while reaching for me. 

I stepped away from him and with tears trailing into my mouth, bitter tears stinging my tongue, I gave him the best smile I could. 

“All I ask is that you don’t call me, begging to come back, when you find out she was lying to you. You could have been happy with me, Bucky. I could have loved you till my last breath.” 

Without looking back to see his own tears falling, I let the cries flow through me in waves, finally saying goodbye to someone I should have a long time ago. 

[beentobeetle]

Say... you mentioned that Arthur "kicked his own bucket" I am here to inquire as to why/how? Was he under The King's influence when he did so? Did he drown as a parallel to how Faroe would have died in universe? Some secret third thing?

Oh it was all just him! And I think it for sure would have been a drowning. By his own accord/hand.

Something something this is just a universe where Arthur does NOT cope with his trauma as well something something he’s simply ‘not strong enough’ (as he sees himself) to raise Faroe right something something.

I think it would have HEAVILY mirrored Faroe’s in-universe death.

Faroe knows very little about pianos, much less how exactly to play. But she remembers one song: the song her father wrote, all for her, that he spent oh-so-long teaching her. Out of all his lessons, it was one of the only things that really stuck.

Late one night, Faroe is about 7, and she can’t sleep. She sees the piano, and decides to play, so she doesn’t forget her song. And she plays perfectly, beautifully, and it feels … nice. Calming. She feels almost tired enough to sleep. Then she hears the running water, and notices the whiff of alcohol on the air, and things don’t feel very calm anymore.

A downstairs neighbor takes note of the leak, and calls someone. Faroe’s found just … standing outside the bathroom, standing, wrapped in a blanket and look wide-eyed through a half-open door. There’s water at her feet. She doesn’t even seem to notice.

That thought — the memory, the mental image of it all — it sticks with her. And, now, all she can feel towards her dad is anger for what he did. For leaving her like that, and in such an awful way. On that note, I think Faroe gets in a lot of water-related-situations … for no reason in particular.

Anyways! Baby Faroe and her dad doodle!

[cherrylibby]

Between Life and Love

The last thing you remember is shouting—urgent voices rising above the chaos, a cacophony of fear and desperation. Then, the sharp, searing pain as a bullet tears through your abdomen. The ground rushes up to meet you, cold and unyielding.

The world blurs around you, colors and sounds fading as your body grows heavy. Through the haze, you catch a glimpse of Spencer Reid. He’s rushing toward you, panic etched into every line of his face.

"Y/N!" he shouts, his voice cracking. He drops to his knees beside you, his trembling hands pressing down on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice a mixture of panic and determination. "Please, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay."

His normally steady hands shake as he tries to control the blood gushing from your wound. Tears well in his wide hazel eyes, threatening to spill over as he stares down at you.

You want to say something, to tell him it’s not his fault, but the words don’t come. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and his voice grows distant, like a fading echo.

When you wake, the world feels strangely quiet. The harsh fluorescent lights above you cast a sterile glow, and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor is the first sound you register.

Your body feels heavy, the dull ache in your abdomen a reminder of what happened. Blinking, you manage to focus on your surroundings. You’re in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV.

At your bedside, Spencer sits slumped forward, his head resting on the edge of the mattress. His usually neat hair is disheveled, and the dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept in days.

"Spence," you croak, your voice hoarse and weak.

His head snaps up, and for a moment, he just stares at you, as if he can’t believe you’re really awake. Then, relief floods his features, and he quickly leans closer.

"Y/N," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re awake."

Before you can respond, the door opens, and the rest of the team files in. Emily is the first to approach, her expression a mix of relief and gentle reprimand.

"You really know how to scare us, don’t you?" she says, brushing a hand lightly over your arm.

Morgan stands next to her, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "You’ve got to stop putting yourself in the line of fire like this. We’re getting too old for these kinds of scares."

JJ and Rossi linger near the foot of the bed, offering soft words of encouragement and teasing remarks to lighten the mood. Their presence is comforting, a reminder of the bond you all share.

But through it all, Spencer stays quiet, his eyes never leaving you.

Eventually, the team begins to trickle out, giving you space to rest. Emily glances at Spencer before leaving, her gaze lingering for a moment as if to say, This is your chance.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

Spencer pulls his chair closer, his long fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of his sweater. He hesitates, the silence stretching between you.

"Spence," you say softly, breaking the tension.

He looks up at you, his hazel eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I thought I lost you," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I’ve seen so many terrible things in this job, but nothing… nothing has ever scared me like that. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I never told you."

He swallows hard, his hands clenching into fists as he gathers his courage. "Y/N, you mean so much to me. More than I’ve ever let on. You’re the one person who makes me feel like I’m more than just statistics and facts. You make me feel… human."

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I’ve always been afraid to say anything, afraid of ruining what we have. But after seeing you like that, I realized… I can’t keep this to myself anymore."

He lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes. "I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time."

The raw vulnerability in his confession leaves you speechless for a moment. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. He takes your hand in his, holding it tightly, as if afraid to let go.

"I love you too, Spence," you say, your voice soft but steady.

A tear slips down his cheek, and he lets out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I’m going to be here for you. Always."

And for the first time since waking up, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.

[keeping-writing-frosty]

Cara and the Will-o'-the-Wisp

Chapter One – A New, Weird Home

In a home from a bygone era that sat perched atop what the locals called a Little Mountain which bordered an ancient forest that had been there longer than any memory of the collective consciousness of the locals and the natives before them, and despite its well-maintained appearance and landscaping, it looked old and craggy to most. Within this home sat a creaky staircase, nestled in the shadows of the early morning as the golden honey-light streamed through the old, dirty windows which did not affect its brilliance. Beneath the stairs sat an ancient, knotty-wood door, whose weathered surface felt rough to the touch. Its natural dark brown color seemed deeper and darker than any other she had seen before, however, to the young Cara, the door seemed to call and beckon to her, much like an enchanting siren-song, she could hardly resist the temptation.

All the while as the movers brought in the family’s boxes and furniture, Cara approached the small door with wide, mismatch-colored eyes: the one eye on the right was colored a light blue-green turquoise that her mother used to tell her that it looked like the ocean, while the other looked a deep brown-orange amber, which seemed to lighten or darken depending on the light.

As her parents ignored Cara with their attention focused on where things should go, she used all of her strength in her slender frame to pull the door open. Yet it only opened just past halfway before the rusty hinges stopped their creaking and refused to budge any further. When she peeked through into the darkness where wispy spider webs and dust clouded her vision, disappointment washed over her as all she found was an empty wooden box adorned with a faded Black Cat Cigarettes Logo. After she pushed the box aside, which stirred up another cloud of dust, caused her nose to scrunch up in response.

Cara was such a precocious, garrulous girl that all loved upon first impressions; whose mother, through some headaches, had grown to love her inquisitive nature. Almost like a deranged kitten in a way. Cara had discovered this perfectly hidden gem just after she pushed open the front door of her family’s new home for the first time. Though this unfamiliar place failed to provide even a single ounce of comfort that Oregon had in every tree, cloud, and blade of grass. Main simply didn’t have this comfort, this home-like feeling to her, not even a speck, a gram of it. Yet, still, it had a unique charm of its own, and Cara thought to herself, at least everything is new to explore.

“Give it time. It’ll feel like home soon,” mother told Cara on the plane ride.

“Maine will never replace Oregon but try to take in the best things about Mount Desert Island: the lush forest that would be fun to explore, so much snow during winter, and the newness of it all,” father tried to comfort her.

Cara didn’t think it would ever feel truly like home. As she temporarily lost interest in the compartment under the stairs, she exited out into the cool morning air. Where a chilly breeze blew off the ocean ruffled the leaves and brought with it a briny aroma so much like the breeze from home. When she finally took in the house, seemingly for the first time, Cara took it all in.

The building was capped with a tall, steepled roof which towered high above anything she saw in the small, nearby town called Haven Bay. It provided a spacious attic that Cara wished she could explore, as for decades it was used as storage. Having been refurbished into an apartment where a curious old man lived that introduced himself over that long move-in weekend. He called himself Jakub Kaczmarek, he explained he was Polish and explained that he used to be a marine biologist that worked at Miskatonic University and now trained his various cats to do tricks on command. Cara thought him an odd man. Finding out that if you spent more than five minutes around him, he was never short of a tall tale to tell. Much like a magical aura, he carried with him unconventional wisdom when he spoke. Jakub always reeked of cheap tobacco, and cheaper, bitter alcohol.

Over this long weekend, Cara found beneath the creaky floorboards was a wine cellar as ancient and dusty as the house above, which intrigued the twelve-year-old girl. With its flickering light bulb above her head, that cast shadows that danced and twirled about the crumbling crates and disused wooden barrels. Mid-room sat aged wine shelves which laid mostly barren, minus a few glass bottles with French-sounding names and a layer of dust thicker than Cara was wide. When asked, Mrs. Robyn Clarke, the landlady, reassured the family that anything which remained was no longer fit for consumption. That they could keep the bottles but would recommend tossing its contents.

Cara couldn’t understand why anyone would want to drink something so awful to begin with, wine was just awful in general. Her mother would indulge in wine she kept in that little wooden cabinet father made for just for. That would, more-than-likely, be moved down here as it was the perfect condition for aging wine, supposedly. To her, she always felt like something was watching her down here, that there was a constant pair of unseeing eyes that couldn’t keep to itself. Despite her curiosity, Cara never spent much time down here.

Nestled midway down the hill behind the manor, where the land slightly protruded before it sloped at a gentle angle down to the ground. Laid an ageless, well-maintained garden that seemed to hold a certain magic about it. With only one entrance through the shrubs and flowering bushes that surrounded the perimeter. A wooden sign proclaimed with pride that the garden was first designed and planted in the mid-1800s by a Louis Bennefield, which was almost as old as the house itself by a couple of decades. As she discovered later, Mr. Kaczmarek ended up being the tender to the garden now.

Yet the garden was beyond anything Cara had ever seen before. It had a certain natural majesty, weather-beaten trees which provided a protective canopy around the perimeter, not just for the delicate flowers and shrubbery, but for anyone who wished for just a moment, a break from all things, to sit down on a marble bench adorned with little baby-faced cherubs on each side.

It seemed to cast a spell on Cara, as when she sat down on the bench and watched the dappled shadows that the late morning sun created over all the delicate, vibrantly-colored flowers. While the trees overhead weren’t nearly as fragile as those whose leaves protected. These were robust, ancient giants: a dawn redwood that towered above everything, even the house itself, a gnarled Norway Pine, and several balsam firs. She only knew the names because of the small signs set in front of each. Eventually, she had to get up as her mother would be cross with her if she didn’t unpack her room.

Her bedroom was quite a bit larger than the one she had back in Arcadia, Oregon, and as she unpacked her boxes, Cara realized that it was the same size as her parents’ bedroom in their old house. This brought a bit of happiness, and her window overlooked both the garden, the forest that bordered the property, as well as a squat, single-level home, its faded white paint peeled over the years. With her window open, the sweet aroma of the flowers mixed with the fresh cut grass smell. That when she took a deep breath, her lungs were filled with such beauty.

As her stuff was put away, for the most part it would satisfy mother, Cara rushed down the stairs where her father called out for her to slow down. It didn’t matter, she was already on the bottom landing and through the front door in the warm, sweet-smelling day. Down the pathway that led past the garden, she ran her fingers through the top of the black-purple leaves of a barberry shrub, which stood toward the back of the garden just before the trail winded its way towards the edge of the property.

On her way to the forest, Cara wrapped her arms around her petite torso as a suddenly cool breeze came through as the wind shifted. At least they carried the sweetness of the honeysuckle bushes near that small house along the edge of the woods.

Off in the distance, perched on a long, gnarled branch, sat a small blue and black bird. Who whistled a song that enraptured Cara for just a moment. Before she pulled out her phone and took a picture of such a beautiful bird. She hummed to herself and continued along the path. Perhaps she could find a bit of happiness here.

As Cara came close to the porch of the small home, she shrugged to herself and stepped up onto it, which creaked and groaned under her weight. This was the home of the round-shaped landlord and her broadly shouldered husband Adam. Both were as unassuming as their home. In fact, she questioned herself as to why she came here, but Cara had seen a girl over here earlier. So, with a deep breath, she knocked on the heavy wooden door. No one liked knocking on someone else’s door.

“Oh no, don’t get up at all. I got it!” The voice of a girl came from behind the door. Followed by a solid click, then the door opened with a squeak. “Oh, hi,” she spoke rather bluntly, her broad green eyes cast a curious gaze, her hair were tight orange curls which bounced every time she moved. “Ah, ya the new girl that just moved into the main house, right?”

Cara’s reddish-blonde hair covered her face after she nodded and brushed it out of her eyes before she quipped, “yep!” After a moment she continued, “my name is Cara Quin. Nice to meet’cha.”

“I’m Rowan, it is good to meet ya as well, Cara,” the new neighbor expressed with seemingly utter sincerity.

A grinning smile lit up Rowan’s well-defined, angular face, she invited Cara to come inside with a wave of her hand and stepped to the side. As soon as Cara stepped in, the cold, almost icebox like air, caused goosebumps to raise upon her arms as the AC overworked itself with a hum that seemed to come from within the walls.

Within the modest living sat an old worn-out couch, its brown fabric threadbare and whose springs squeaked and boinged with each movement. Across from it sat an older HDTV which played some cartoons that no one paid attention to. Splayed across the couch, and parts of the coffee table, sat lanky obviously twin brothers: Steven, the one with shoulder-length orange hair much like his sister except without the curls, while Sam had a short, almost military-style haircut cut down nearly to his scalp, and seemed quite new. Both were seventeen and far-too-cool for Cara and her inquisitive, twelve-year-old nature. They roosted like lazy birds, faces buried in their Nintendo Switches without a single word uttered between them even as a new person entered their home.

Cara followed her new-found friend past the boys and their loud games, which blended with the distant hum of the television. Where they entered a narrow hallway off to the right, bathed in the soft, artificial glow of a dimly-lit overhead light. Off to the right, a bathroom where the unappealing aroma of too much cheap room spray wafted from within. To the right, a door with a neon-yellow caution sign on it that proclaimed for no one to enter, especially any boys.

Once inside, Cara was greeted by a kaleidoscope of visual delights. Dozens of posters adorned the walls, showcasing female soccer players in mid-action, fierce and elegant at the same time, their faces caught in moments of determination all frozen in times. Interspersed and mixed in were the familiar faces and art of beloved musicians and bands, smiles captured in all their glossy details. Which the one Cara knew the best, and was her favorite band, was Tegan and Sara. In all of their glorious eighties-like style, or from what she assumed. In the corner covered in what Rowan would later call, “organized chaos,” sat a desk with a laptop sitting open that cast a gentle blue hue on everything around it. While a cellphone, plugged into its charger, played a soft song that Cara didn’t recognize. Stacked on a small table under a lamp beside the bed was a collection of well-loved, frequently-read, creased young adult fantasy novels, their colorful spines whispered tales of adventures and escape.

“Let’s chill. You can get comfortable and all.” Rowan smiled and plopped down on her bed

Cara thanked her and moved to sit beside the quite tall girl. “So, how old are you?” She inquired.

“Twelve.”

“Oh, that’s frickin’ awesome. I turned twelve this past April. So, wow, you are just really tall! I dig it.”

“Oh yeah. I am almost as tall as my brothers. I’m going to be huge! I can’t wait, but yeah. My birthday is February twenty-night. I’m a leap year, baby!” She touted arms raised high, which caused mirth to rise up in both of them into a short bout of laughter.

Eyebrow cocked, Cara asked, “Wait, so you only celebrate your birthday every four years?”

There came another laugh, a good-natured warming sound. “No, usually the twenty-eighth. Though it was nice to celebrate it on the correct day, for once.”

“So,” Cara dragged on the word for a moment. “I am going to assume ya like soccer.”

“Love it. I’ve played my whole life. Do you play?”

“A little here and there, but nothing truly competitive. I’m not the most athletic.” Cara stretched her noodle-like legs out in front of her. “A friend of mine back in Oregon played a lot. Would be rad to learn how to play better, though.”

“Hell yeah. I’d love to play and teach you more,” Rowan enthused.

Cara added. “But, until then, is there anything interesting ‘round these parts?”

A pensive look took Rowan for a moment as a silence hung between them. Until she bit her bottom lip as if she wanted to speak but was afraid of how Cara would react. “Okay, I don’t want you to think I am weird, but this place is very old and, well, weird place, you know? I’ve lived here in this house my entire life. Wanna see some cool shit, though?”

Shooting up with a start, Cara exclaimed, “hell yeah! Oregon had some cool places to explore, but we didn’t have a forest like this. At least, not close enough to explore all the time.”

Rowan stood up, and it was the first time Cara noticed how tall her new friend truly was. Easily she was a head-and-a-half taller, if not more. Mostly legs, one could almost think she was a basketball player. She was shaped normally, just lanky and tall. “A few dope places, you know? They have a vibe I just”—she shrugged her broad shoulders—“can just center myself in. If that makes any sense.”

Yet before the pair left Rowan’s bedroom, she stopped and turned to look at Cara. “I don’t want to be rude or anything. Just wanted to say that your eyes are unique and very pretty.”

A rosy crimson lit up Cara’s pale complexion who found her words flustered and hard to vocalize. “T-thank you very much.”

“They are awesome, cool, and I know we just met, so I hope this didn’t come off as weird or cringe or anything.”

Cara was used to people staring at her because of her differently-colored eyes. Usually by creepy-looking adults, or kids who were just going to make fun of her. “Thank you,” Cara mused, the smile on her face grew ever wider.

After Rowan locked her bedroom door and checked its security. She led Cara outside just as a strong wind kicked up leaves, flower petals, and grass clippings into a swirling current that flew off out of the yard towards the forest. Cara was led by her new friend to past the tree line.

A few steps into the woods, where it darkened, Rowan held a sly smile across her angular face, leading Cara into a grove surrounded by a copse of red cedars and sugar maples. Long ago, as Rowan explained, some force arranged the large stones and boulders in an almost geometric pattern that dotted the roundish grassy knoll that sat middle of the grove.

“They say a coven of witches used to practice their rituals here,” Rowan explained as she hopped onto an old tree stump covered in moss as she sat and watched Cara.

Beyond intrigued, Cara examined every rock and stone, ran her fingertips across the rough surfaces—some were moist from the dew, still others sat bone dry. There, just outside the semi-circle, stood one in particular. After a long several minutes of examining the rock, that’s when Cara saw a face on the rock. Painted upon it many years ago, now almost completely faded.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Cara hummed and rubbed her hands together. “You were right.”

When Cara looked over at her new friend, who seemed so much like a goddess of the forest on her stump throne. She said, “This is wonderful. Truly a magical place. I can almost feel it.”

“Some years ago,” Rowan began, knee pulled up to her chest. “Sam was acting like a complete ass. Though, I don’t remember ‘bout what. So, I ran into the forest, and I remember crying. I just so happened upon the grove. It was autumn and everything was so colorful. I remember that more than anything else.”

“Then I crumbled to my knees and buried my face in my arms on this stump, just weeping and crying and snotting about something. Then when my tears eventually dried up, and I was without words, ya know? The stones, man, just caught my attention. I know I studied each one for seemingly hours. Before the twins came to find me and hung out with me. Sam apologized, as he always does.” Rowan let out a long-held breath as she propped her chin on her knee.

She stood up and pointed back towards the trail. “Wanna go check something else out, yes? It isn’t too far away and it’s a even better spot than this place,” Rowan suggested as she got up from the stump.

The trail was well-maintained and had to look of being well-trodden. Hanging over the trails was large, gnarled limbs that held bright green, healthy leaves not yet affected by the forthcoming autumn. Around the biggest tree Cara had ever seen, and behind a rough, natural boulder sat a large fairy ring where the canopy had thinned out just enough to let the sun filter through. The ring was so large, Cara and Rowan could lay on the soft grass in the middle of the ring and still have plenty of space to not touch any of the squishy little, brown-speckled mushrooms, which stunk when accidentally crushed underfoot.

Despite the rather unique and pretty godawful smell, Cara had to resist every fiber within her that wanted to take one home and put it in an old aquarium to see if it would grow. Images of her mother exploding in quite the physical and literal and verbal sense if she even tried to do so, or even if Cara just wanted to dry them out on the windowsill and keep them between the pages of an old book. She still might do so anyways. Just the image in her mind’s eye caused a giggling laughter to emit from Cara.

Parsing her lips, Rowan cocked a thin eyebrow. “What’s up?” She inquired.

Cara found it hard to talk as she snort-laughed, she choked out, “s-sorry, sorry. Hehe. Just thought of something funny and stupid. Something my mom would say.”

But their adventure wasn’t done yet. When Rowan finally got up from the wet grass, Cara followed in step beside her. Further down the trail into the woods, they came across an ancient stone well built by many hands lost to time long ago with craggy and misshapen stones. Green-blue moss, and algae that matched rainbows just after a fresh, summer rainfall, decorated the structure. While an old wooden roof-like structure bleached from years of exposure, looked as if it held a coil of rope and a bucket at one-point years past. There off to the side, slightly hidden among the weeds, sat a broken lever, forgotten and discarded.

On top sat firm and unmoving a heavy stone lid which kept everything out, and despite Cara’s growing strength, the lid would not budge. Much like the green-brown toad that sat upon it, toward the back end. Which croaked its displeasure with a simple ribbit.

“Yeah, if I can’t push it off. You can’t.” Rowan hopped up onto the rough stone lid and dangled her legs off. Her boots almost touched the ground, and when Cara sat beside her, their knees touched for only the briefest of moments.

“It’s kind of gross to think people drank out of that,” Cara did her best to not think about how Rowan’s touch felt. The toad gave one last croak and jumped off, burdened with an expression of such disgust. “Can you imagine what lives in the water?”

“Toad water.” Rowan scrunched up her button nose. “This is such a cool place. There’s one last thing I want to show you today. Before my mom starts yelling for me.”

“My mom would just send a text demanding I come home.”

Rowan scoffed, “I hate that they think they can control us because we’re—“she held up her hands and air-quoted—“kids. We’re almost teenagers.”

“I fear my mother would be even more of a pain once I turn thirteen.

A short, “hah,” came from Rowan. “Phones don’t work that well out here anyways. So, what is she going to do? Must be all the trees, I reckon.”

“What else would it be?”

Rowan shrugged. “No idea.”

The rough stone of the lid scratched at her denim jeans when Cara pushed herself off. “What other cool shit do ya got to show me?”

The smile that adorned Rowan’s heart-shaped face grew ever brighter. “The coolest thing of ‘em all.”

Further down the trail sat an old wooden sign planted into the soft ground with its words etched into the roughly-hewn surface that gave directions to Haven Bay just a couple of miles through the woods. Thick, ancient tree limbs seemed to form an arch that crossed over the trail. Roots jutted out of the ground, with spider-like almost-legs covered in moss, and if you could crawl through them, seemed much like a portal to somewhere else.

Despite the sun that hung high above head, the thick canopy kept out almost all of its warming rays. Which fostered an atmosphere thick with moisture and allowed a lingering chill to float on the almost stagnant air, which made sense to Cara with all the bogs that could be found just to the east, or so Rowan explained. While the earthy, almost lovely, aroma of toadstools and those musky fiddlehead ferns, underlaid with the constant sweet scent of decaying undergrowth, seemed almost magic. There was no absence of life here, birds sung their summer melodies and small animals rustled just out of view but not out of range of the girls’ ears. If someone told Cara this was heaven, she’d have no complaints or arguments.

When Rowan took Cara’s hand, the softness of her touch surprised Cara as it contrasted so much with the obvious strength within said hand, and Rowan led the way toward a rather massive tree stump that seemed far, far older than the forest itself. As if the tree was the first of its kind. Seemed so much different from the one in the grove—this stump seemed so much grander and beyond greater. At one point many eras ago, a gigantic tree towered above all others, and it knew. It almost reminded Cara of an actual throne, where the real Queen of the Forests sat, she sat here and surveyed her domain.

With an impressive leap, Rowan jumped on top of the stump with steady dexterity. Her pants pulled up a bit to show off her mismatched socks, both deliberate and somehow accidental. As she spoke, her voice lifted in a lilting tone as she almost whispered, “this place is magical, isn’t it? Something’s here, isn’t there? I can feel. Don’t you feel it? I’ve always felt a connection to this place on a level that’s hard to explain.”

Rowan looked down at Cara, a look of surprise and almost disbelief held the smaller girl’s features.

“I know what it sounds like. Like I am crazy.”

Cara shook her head. “Not crazy.”

“The twins both talk about going to college, moving away, seeing the country and the world, but me? At one point my dream was to play for the US women’s soccer team. Maybe to play for some prestigious club, but nowadays? I don’t know.”

The tall girl reached up to take a long, three-pronged leaf off of a tree, tossing it into the air where and unseen and unfelt breeze took it away on a short trek to the ground below. There existed not a single doubt in Cara’s mind that this place was special. Yet something about it spoke to Cara, but it was in a language she didn’t speak. Not yet.

“Thank you.” Cara intoned in almost agreement.

Rowan turned to look down at the girl that seemed so far below her. “For what?” she questioned as curious as she was .

“Thanks for trusting me and sharing your favorite spots.” Cara smiled and buried her hands in her pockets.

Cara climbed onto the stump to sit on the edge, with Rowan sitting beside her. They sat there in silence as the surrounding forest went about its day. The day seem so alive, even if it just looked as if they were nothing but trees. A comfortable air came between the girls so fast and quickly. Comfortable was the best way to describe the two. And Cara felt just a bit more accepting of her new, weird home.

*****

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[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter Fifteen: When The Morning Breaks Us

The first thought that crosses Abbie's mind upon waking is that she's completely and utterly screwed. Sunlight, bright and blinding, pours through her bedroom curtains, a not-so-gentle reminder that it's officially morning, that last night hadn't merely been a good dream gone sour, and that eventually, she's going to have to leave the cozy comfort of her bed and confront Crane about what had happened between them last night. 

Abbie wishes that she could just blame it all on the champagne, but the truth is, she hadn't had nearly enough to warrant making such a stupid mistake, in spite of the faint drumming inside her head, along with the delicate thrum of water-starved blood coursing through the veins behind her eyelids, teasing the promise of a hangover. Abbie pulls the covers up over her head, rolls over onto her stomach, and buries her face in between her pillows, groaning miserably as she tries, desperately, to find the will to get out of bed.

Careful to avoid the loosened, creaking floorboards, Abbie creeps toward her bedroom door, wondering if Ichabod is already awake and pottering about the apartment…if he'd even slept at all. Then again, the guy's practically got super-human hearing, so it hardly matters if she makes any noise…he'll likely already know that she's up for the day. He'll probably even have your morning coffee ready and waiting for you, she muses with a guilty jolt to her heart. 

Abbie sighs, slides on her slippers, pulls a fuzzy, dark purple bathrobe overtop her pajamas, and slowly, carefully, opens the door, wincing at the agonizingly loud grating noise that it makes as it scrapes across the hardwood floor. Her eyes grow wide as she spots Ichabod, hunched over a breakfast tray in the living room, quietly sipping his morning tea. He stirs at the intrusive sound, locking eyes with Abbie's for just a moment before she's bolting to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Within seconds, she's got the shower running on full blast, drowning out Crane's long, sorrowful sigh on the other side of the door.

• • •

Ichabod stands at the kitchen island, stirring a perfect blend of milk, cream, and sugar into Abbie's morning coffee, before setting the mug on a breakfast tray, filled with plates of freshly-flipped chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs with a generous helping of cheddar and mozzarella cheeses mixed in, and a small side of bacon, burnt to a crisp, just the way Abbie likes it. 

After countless hours of lying motionless on his bed throughout the night, eyes boring into the ceiling as though it'll unravel and reveal a simple set of answers to all of his problems, Ichabod had finally decided that enough was enough, and had gotten up, decided upon making Abbie a pick-me-up breakfast, a peace offering of sorts, to let her know that what she'd done last night was perfectly fine (and, he now realizes, very much wanted.) It had taken him far too long to sort everything though, to let go of the foolish notion that it would somehow be disrespectful to his late wife, were he to act upon his affections for another woman. 

It's what Katrina would have wanted for him, after all…to move on from her, to find love in the comfort of someone else's embrace…and it wasn't like Abbie was just any woman…no, Abbie was so much more than just another seemingly random person whose path he had happened to cross. She was clever and wise and selfless and brave…she was his partner in crime, his companion in the upcoming battle against the forces of hell, his other half in the tragic role they, the chosen witnesses, must play. 

In this strange, mad world, Abbie is everything to him, and he's honestly surprised, and a little bit disappointed in himself, for having not realized it sooner, for having not taken notice that he'd already fallen so deeply, so irrevocably, for her, long before she'd ever kissed him. A furious blush creeps into his cheeks at the memory, and he nearly drops his delicacy-laden tray, carefully balanced on one hand, intent upon bringing her breakfast in bed.

He's about to knock, to request entrance to her bedroom, his balled-up fist poised at the ready, when he hears a disgruntled groan from the other side of the door, indicating that she is most definitely not in an amicable mood, nor willing to be placated with food, and thinks better of it, backing away in cowardice and setting Abbie's breakfast on the coffee table. 

Ichabod settles onto the couch with his steaming cup of herbal tea, taking slow, quiet sips as he practices what he's going to say to her, running every possible string of lines through his mind, mouthing them out loud, and then shaking his head when the words that spill from his lips disagree with the tangled mess of emotions swimming about inside his head.

When she finally does emerge from her bedroom, it's only for a split-second, her expression a perfect impression of the clichéd deer-caught-in-the-headlights, the moment Ichabod's gaze finds hers. And then, without warning, she's sprinting into the bathroom and locking the door behind her, intent upon stalling their interaction for as long as she possibly can. Ichabod sighs, sinking back into contemplation, far too nervous and jittery to even think about touching his own plate of breakfast. 

Twenty minutes later, Ichabod hears the water switch off, hears Abbie stumbling about the bathroom, brushing her teeth and gargling with her (in his opinion, overpoweringly minty) mouthwash, all the while waiting for the telltale click of the bathroom door, signaling that it's okay for him to approach. He places his empty teacup on the coffee table and saunters over to the hallway in between her bedroom and bathroom doors, promptly waiting for her, his posture ramrod straight, hands held in twisting knots behind his back.

Abbie strolls out of the bathroom, humming along to a soft, celestial piece from the Nutcracker Suite that's been playing on repeat inside her head since Christmas, and gasps, clutching her chest in panic as her eyes fall on Crane's tall, lanky figure, standing just outside her bathroom door. In a last-ditch effort to run from her responsibilities, Abbie makes a mad dash to her bedroom, but Crane is far too quick, far too graceful, and within seconds, he's got her cornered, fixing her with an imploring stare.

"I…" he starts, a quiver to his voice that Abbie has learned to associate with what she likes to call Caffeinated Crane, wired on too many energy drinks. "I've made you breakfast."

"Um…thank you," she says, tone softening infinitesimally. "But I'm not really all that hungry. Sorry…um…I'll just go, and…"

"That's fine," he counters. "We can just…talk, then."

Abbie's forced smile falters as she purses her lips, refusing to look directly at him.

"Crane, can we please not do this right now? I'm not…I'm not decent," she warns, tugging at the hem of her robe, suddenly made uncomfortably aware of the fact that she's got nothing but a bra and panties on underneath her fuzzy violet robe. 

Without his permission, Crane's eyes follow the delicate curve of her exposed thighs, all the way down to her scarlet-painted toenails, his lips slightly parted, breath hitching for a fraction of a second, before snapping out of it and immediately fixating on her eyes.

"If it makes the situation any less awkward, all I am wearing underneath this bathrobe that, apologies, I seem to have stolen from you, is a pair of cotton pajama bottoms. Unfortunately, the unkempt mess of hair on my chest and stomach does very little to shield my bare skin from view. In my era, the both of us would have been deemed quite naked, and thus, inappropriately dressed…therefore, I suppose we are, as you would say, even," he replies, the tiniest hint of a tremble lurking underneath his voice.

"It doesn't, but thanks for trying," she deadpans, clutching her robe tighter around her chest. In fact, it only serves to make the situation that much worse. 

Unfortunately for Abbie, Crane is stubborn and resolute, determined to remain right where he is until she agrees to talk to him. He swallows back a bout of nervous laughter, stealing shameless, covert glances at an image he'll likely never be fortunate enough to witness ever again, taking note of the tiny moles and freckles that decorate the skin stretched across her collarbones, the way her hair splays across her shoulders in a tangled river of curls, at war with the residual chemicals in the products that had tried their damnedest to straighten them, the way the water trickles down the surface of her skin, painting wet patches against the fabric of her bathrobe. 

Abbie chances a glance at him, gives him a wounded look, before huffing out a vexed, impatient sigh.

"I…okay, you're not going to let me out of this, are you?" she asks, mortification rising in her voice like a rolling storm. "I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I misread the signs…I was drunk and I made a mistake, and…I know, that's no excuse, because it was totally out of line, and really stupid, and if I could go back in time and take it back, I would…but I can't. All I can do is assure you that it will never happen again…so can we please forget about it now?"

The words come tumbling out of her mouth in a cascade of clandestine, emotional bruises, ones he hadn't even realized she'd been carrying until now, irrevocably etched in the downward curve of her lips as she silently pleads with him to just let this go, to forget that something so personal, so intimate, had ever happened between them, as though it were easy, the disheartening promise of it won't ever happen again piercing his skin like the points of a thousand needles. 

He simply won't allow it…won't allow either of them to feel like this, to suffer in the interest of a misguided sense of self-preservation and intangible, antiquated terms of what it means to be honorable…not anymore.

"No," he says, a surge of confidence racing through his veins as he steps toward her. "Enlighten me, Lieutenant, for I am curious, and, consequently, altogether baffled at my own mind for having taken such great measures to prevent the true desires of my heart from being heard. For some reason unbeknownst to me, the only concept that seems to trouble me is why you think it would be, in your own words, out of line and stupid, to have kissed me last night?"

The little self-satisfied, teasing and taunting smirk that spreads across his lips at that last line is enough to send her over the edge.

"Where do I even begin, Crane?" Abbie asks, her features growing dark and dangerous, voice rising in volume with every word. "You're a man from the 1700's who fought alongside George Washington in the Revolutionary War. You took battle axe wounds to the chest from a headless horseman, who just happens to be death itself, apparently, and lived to tell the tale." 

"Actually, no, you did die, but you were resurrected and buried in an underground crave for two hundred and fifty years. And as if that isn't enough to warrant both of us a one-way ticket to the nuthouse, you and I are somehow connected by some magical, biblical tie, making us capital-W witnesses in the impending apocalypse."

"Oh, and then there's the fact that you're married…to a self-sacrificing sorceress who used to be part of a scarily powerful coven…or you were, I guess…I honestly don't even know anymore…it's all way too complicated for me to process, even after months of living with you, working case after case with you, spending nearly all of my free time with you, and not even because I felt like I had to, but because I wanted to…because, despite all of that, I still…I started to…" Abbie trails off, steadies her breathing, and shakes her head, swallowing back a small sob until it's merely a painful lump in the back of her throat.

"Regardless, it just…it would never work," she says, her voice a mere whisper now, an echo of what it was just moments before. Ichabod pauses, lips poised on the edge of his next clever string of words, mulling them over inside his head, choosing them with delicate care.

"Yes," he says softly. "I suppose, to any normal person, those facts would be quite troubling. But you and I do not exactly fit the definition of normal, now do we? You are exceedingly extraordinary, Miss Mills. So extraordinary, in fact, that you have been chosen as a witness to the beginnings of the potential end of days…and you and I are the only ones who can prevent its course. I am alone in this strange new land, Lieutenant, save for you. You are the only tether that I have to this world that keeps me sane." 

"Katrina is at rest now, and I have made my peace with it. Yes, some part of me will always love her, and there will always be a place for her in my heart, but I cannot battle any longer with the indisputable reality that you do now as well. The only stupid course of action would be to continue to try to deny it, even if neither of us have the faintest clue as to what could become of it. Alas, we should not allow fear of the unknown to hold us back from what we desire." 

"All that I know and hold to be true is the fact that you are here with me now, and despite the oddities and hardships cloaking the mad world into which I have been gracelessly thrown, I would not see myself removed from it if it meant I would have to leave you."

Abbie's breathing stills, heart thrumming an uneven rhythm in her chest as her blood pulses through her veins, heating the surface of her skin until she feels like she's glowing, every nerve ending in her body lighting up like a live wire.

"Crane," she says, but it comes out more like a whisper, like a euphoric sigh, and before she can say anything more, he's closed the space between them, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss, swallowing the rest of her words with a stifled moan as he presses his lips against hers, gently backing her into the corridor until they're pressed up against her bedroom door. 

Not wanting to waste a single second, Abbie slides her hands up the length of his arms, curls her fingers into his hair, unfastening his ties and letting it fall loose against the curves of his face, before weaving them underneath the thick fabric of his robe, fingertips tracing intricate patterns across his bare skin. 

"Cold," he gasps into her mouth, chuckling softly as Abbie takes the opportunity to slide her tongue along the edge of his lower lip, earning another soft, low moan. 

"Oh, but don't worry," he growls, teasing a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbones, connecting the constellations of her freckles and moles with his lips. "I'll soon fix that." 

Without another word, Crane tucks his hands underneath her thighs, fingertips gently digging into her skin as he lifts her up, and Abbie follows suit, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, arms laced around his neck as he carries her across the threshold, bedroom door closing with a resounding click as they slip through to the other side.

They never do make it to breakfast.

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You Always Want What You're Running From

Sleepy Hollow » Ichabbie

Title: You Always Want What You're Running From

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (Masterlist)

Relationship: Abbie Mills x Ichabod Crane

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: When Abbie invites Ichabod to come live with her, the last thing she expects is for him to start feeling like home.

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient.  But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him.  She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1 » Chapter 2 » Chapter 3 » Chapter 4 » Chapter 5 » Chapter 6 » Chapter 7 » Chapter 8 » Chapter 9 » Chapter 10 » Chapter 11 » Chapter 12 » Chapter 13 » Chapter 14 » Chapter 15

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.�� 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.