#The town where the bell rings

[emeto-secret-agent]

I've just looked through my inbox and there are 38 requests in there, the earliest from May of 2022,,,

I think I'll just dig myself a hole and hide in there in shame

[mios-axe]

[icewindandboringhorror]

Well! I started remodeling the house sooo long ago (original post of it back in 2018), then got distracted and forgot it in the closet for a long time, ignored it on and off, etc... Then, finally finished the house in 2022. THEN, I forgot about the pictures I took of it in 2022, and am now posting them in 2024.. A good example of how the timeline of my side craft projects usually go lol

But, at least I do have the photos now, so... finally sharing them ! 

I just used a blue sheet as a 'sky' and a green sweater with some fake flowers on it to try to look like it was on grass lol...

(more images under the readmore)

The bedroom-

The library/potion room -

The living room area-

Then the little kitchen

The pictures are not very good, but these are the best I could find? I filmed a video of me working on the whole thing (who knows when that will be out..if it took me TWO years just to post the photos lol), so I think while I was taking the pictures, I was thinking “eh, they don’t have to be great, since I’ll show it in more detail in the video :3″, but now I kind of regret not having more actual detail shots or anything.

(sidenote: I'm pretty sure I've posted better pictures of some of the individual rooms before though too? sometime before I had added the finishing touches but when they were basically done and looked almost the same as these. so maybe it's okay that these are kind of bad lol)

I think progress on it also stalled a bit due to the pandemic starting, since like 90% of the stuff in here is random things I found at the bins (giant goodwill donation center where you dig through tubs of various items all thrown together), so once I couldn’t go out to the bins anymore, I lost my method of hunting for new items, and just had to work with whatever scraps I already had or could make myself with very few materials/tools.  The bins is a really large and always crowded place, so it's still not safe for me to go with current community transmission levels lol... who knows when I shall be able to use it to get dirt cheap crafting supplies ever again.. T o T

ANYWAY! It was a fun little project, even though of course it's a little rough around the edges and not exactly as I'd envisioned lol. As usual, I always enjoy the MAKING of things the most, yet then have no idea what to do with the finished project, since the process is what's enjoyable to me.

I think I'm going to take all the glued down furniture out of it and then repaint it, then maybe donate the base house back to the same thrift store I found it at. Like completing some sort of crafting circle of life or something lol

slowly making some progress on the doll house I’m trying to remodel! 

[these-lovely-monsters]

Mating Season

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!werewolf x f!reader

Content: hunting, primal behavior, predator/prey, sex, p in v, knotting, claiming bite, possessiveness, mild dubcon

#13 Mating/Hunting Season from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s werewolf mating season in your village and it’s a full moon which means it’s time for the hunt.

It’s almost midnight and all the eligible women have been gathered in the town square to prepare for the event. You stand amongst the group, everyone dressed in thin gowns and barefooted. A cool breeze causes you to shiver or maybe it’s just the anticipation of the activities to come.

The soft murmurs of the crowd are punctuated by howls in the distance. The werewolves are prowling through the darkness, eagerly awaiting their prey. Under the bright moonlight, the women around you glance at each other with mixtures of nervousness and excitement.

When the first midnight bell rings out over the square, everyone jumps, and the crowd surges forward. At first it’s a tangled mess of jostling limbs as everyone heads for the gates at the town’s entrance. But once you’re all through, the mass of bodies disperse in different directions and you take off sprinting into the darkness.

You’re racing through the trees, leaping over logs and boulders as you try to ignore the pain in your feet and the sharp scrapes and nicks from nearby branches. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breaths are coming heavy. Over the roar in your ears, you hear the snarls and howls of the werewolves stalking their prey, mixed with the shrieks and moans of those already caught.

Your legs are beginning to ache as you zig zag in no particular direction. So you slow down, wondering if you’ve gone too far. But then you hear a twig snap in the trees behind you. Your heart lurches into overdrive and you sprint forward again.

Moving as fast as you can, you recall the only instructions you were given. “Run.”

Your predator is close on your heels, his paws thudding softly on the ground as he nimbly trails you through the forest. Just as you turn to look over your shoulder, you catch sight of a giant, black werewolf leaping out from between the trees.

When he collides with your body, you let out a soft “Oof,” and you both go tumbling to the ground. He deftly rolls you so that he takes the brunt of the fall and when you come to a stop, he’s hovering over you, pinning your body to the cold hard ground.

Although his form is mostly humanoid, he’s covered from head to toe in thick, dark fur. His head is also the shape of a wolf’s and he has a long tail that swishes behind him. His massive claw-tipped hands are buried into the dirt on either side of your head and his heavy breaths wash across your skin.

Baring his teeth in your face, he starts to rock his hips against your naked pussy and you gasp. When he shifts his weight so his cock is dragging against your clit, you let out a soft moan and he snarls at the sound.

Faster than you can track, he swipes his claws at your gown, shredding the material and leaving faint red scratches where his nails nicked you. He stares down at you for a moment, his pupils dilating as he watches your exposed skin pebble in the cold air.

He bends his head to lick at your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples, causing your back to arch off the ground. Then he lowers himself down so his hot body is draped over yours. Before you can appreciate the warmth, he shifts his hips so that the tip of his cock is nudging at your already slick entrance and you groan in anticipation.

Opening your legs wider in invitation, you grip his fur and tug. With a growl, he sheaths himself fully inside you until his hips are flush with your thighs. You cry out at the sudden fullness and he pauses to let you adjust. When your body begins to relax, he pulls out and then thrusts back in. He does it again and again until he’s setting a brutal pace, fucking you hard into the dirt.

You quickly become lost in the exquisite sensations as your back scrapes against the rock-strewn ground while his massive cock stretches and fills you to the brim. He’s snarling and wild-eyed above you as he ruts into you in a wild frenzy, unable to control himself at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing him so tightly.

When your orgasm climbs higher and higher, almost at its peak, his movements become jerky as he meets you at the top. Right before you tip over the edge, you feel his massive knot pushing against your entrance, trying to stretch your pussy impossibly wide.

Before you can protest, he lowers his mouth to your shoulder and growls one guttural word against your skin.

“Mine.”

And then his teeth are sinking into your flesh in a vicious claiming bite at the same time his knot pushes past your tight walls and you scream.

You’re launched into another stratosphere as your eyes roll back in your head and your entire body seizes up. Hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up endlessly until it starts to seep out around his knot and drip down your thighs. His hips are still jerking erratically as he rides out his orgasm, dragging your own out with it, until eventually he’s completely spent.

───

You must have passed out at some point because when you awake, he’s carrying you in his arms as he trudges through the forest.

“Where are we going?” You ask groggily.

“To my den,” comes a deep gravelly voice above you. “I’m going to fuck you until my cum is a part of your essence and everyone knows that you belong to me.”

Tip Jar :)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

You Came, You Called || LN4

Summary: when strangers follow you from the nightclub there’s only one person you want to call.

Warnings: angst, threatening behaviour, fluff

WC: 2.4K

Lando stirred at the sound of his phone ringing on the bedside table. There were few people who could get past the ‘do not disturb’ setting that came into effect after midnight. With bleary eyes he reached for the phone and cringed at the bright light in his face but the sight of your name chased away his exhaustion.

It had been 162 days since you last spoke to him. It had been 162 days since he had ruined everything. He regretted his foolishness for every single one of those days and his stomach flipped at the thought of hearing your voice.

“Hey,” he answered, a flinch following as his voice cracked from lack of use while he slept. He quickly cleared it before trying again. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby.”

Alarm bells rang in his head and he sat up straight. Had you called the wrong man? That thought soured in his mouth.

“I’m on my way home.”

It wasn’t your unsteady voice he was focused on but the male voices that sounded far too close for his liking. “Aw, don’t call your boyfriend. We only want to talk.”

“Where are you?” Lando was already pulling on a pair of sweatpants and grabbing the first shirt he came across. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you whispered with a tremble in your tone. “I miss you.”

“Tell me where you are, sweetheart. I’m on my way.”

“Come on, gorgeous, it’s just a bit of fun,” a man called out and Lando saw red when he heard you choke back a sob. He knew the sound because he had been the reason for it before, and it had haunted him ever since. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“I’m heading towards Chocolat Boutique, please hurry.”

“I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” Lando was already racing down to the garage and jumping in his McLaren. The engine roared loudly in the underground space before he tore out onto the street. “Keep talking to me, okay?”

The small store would have closed hours ago, but it was down the street from Jimmyz nightclub which was where you probably had been. He didn’t even know you were in town, and he didn’t have a right to know your whereabouts anymore.

“I’m scared, Lan.” The pain echoed around him as his phone connected to the car and played in surround sound.

“I know you are, but it’s going to be okay. I’m almost there, I promise.” He didn’t care about speeding tickets or running red lights. He flew through the narrow streets as he was forced to listen to the cat calls.

“I didn’t know who to call,” you admitted as you tried to walk faster but your heels hindered any escape. The three men were getting closer but they were in no hurry as they prowled both sides of the street to herd you along.

“You can always call me, love,” Lando swore, taking the last turn fast enough for the tires to squeal in protest. “And I’ll always answer.”

He found you on the footpath clutching your phone to your ear, hand cupped over the microphone as you spoke to him. Fear had widened your eyes and your normal stature cowered under the gaze of the men behind you.

Twisting the steering wheel, Lando skidded to a halt beside you and threw the door open. You had seen him angry before, when races don’t go his way, but this was beyond anger. Waves of rage rolled off him as you leapt into his arms, your trembling form finding itself molding perfectly back into his body. Two puzzle pieces slotting back together.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he soothed as he cradled the back of your head and glared over your shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

He might not have been the most imposing figure but you knew Lando was strong and regularly had boxing lessons for training. You had no doubt that if anything escalated he would use every lesson to protect you, but the cowards shrank back into the shadows of the shops.

“Let’s get you home.”

You were in such a state of shock that you didn’t see Lando wince at his mistake. You hadn’t called his apartment home for 162 days, not since you packed your bags and left. But right now you longed for that place where you had felt so safe and secure, tangled in his sheets and he curled his body around yours.

He opened the passenger door and reluctantly stepped out of your embrace to guide you into the seat. The doors locked as he started the engine and you exhaled a heavy breath of relief when the street was left behind.

Tearing your eyes away from the tinted window, you looked at Lando properly and saw his disheveled appearance. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I’m not.” He took his eyes off the road for a second before reaching over to take your hand. “You’re freezing.”

He couldn’t tell if you were shaking because you were cold or if it was the adrenaline leading to shock. Dropping your hand he reached behind your seat to grab a hoodie that was always left in the car. The material was soft and smelled like him as you pulled on, inhaling deeply at the familiarity of the scent.

“I miss stealing these,” you whispered as you buried your cold hands into the front pocket.

Lando chuckled at the admission. He missed seeing his hoodies on you and asking if you knew where his favourite ones were. You would lie and he would smile at how terrible the attempt was.

“You can steal that one, if you want. I have too many now that they don’t mysteriously disappear.”

The car pulled into the garage and you found the space where your car used to park now filled with a pretty Lamborghini. A new sense of sadness hit that of course everything could be upgraded and replaced. “You can take me to my hotel. I wasn’t thinking clearly, you probably have company.”

His lips turned down at the thought and he shook his head. Lando understood why you would assume that, after all it was the reason you had left. What he had thought was harmless flirting had wrought destruction on his relationship with you. He knew he should’ve deleted the messages as soon as they were received but a moment of weakness when he was away from you led him to reply.

He betrayed your trust and he had regretted it ever since.

“There isn’t anyone,” he said as he parked. “There isn’t anyone ever, just to be clear.”

You mulled over his words as you stepped out of the car and accepted his hand, trading the warmth of the pocket for his palm. You kept hearing the insinuation echo with each step in the empty garage.

“Did you go out alone tonight?”

You shook your head. “Ana felt sick so she left. I should have gone with her.”

“So why did you stay?”

You weren’t ready to admit there was a slight hope you would see him so you just shrugged. It was Saturday night in Monaco and Jimmyz was the place to be - especially for a handsome, single man like Lando. You hadn’t wanted it to be this way though.

“I stopped going there after…a couple of months ago,” he said as he unlocked his door.

“Why? You loved that place.”

“I loved going with you,” he corrected. “I got to hold you and dance, show you off to everyone. When I went back, everyone just wanted to use me.”

You could imagine the women fawning over him and the men trying to be his next best friend. Sex or money, it was all they wanted from him.

“I’m sorry, Lan.”

“Lan,” he chuckled, following the light down the hall to his bedroom. The blanket was tossed aside and his charging cord was half hanging from the wall, a testament to how quickly he had left his bed to rescue you. “No one else calls me that anymore. It’s always Lando Norris, full name, so fucking weird. It’s Lando Norris getting out of his car. Oh, look, it’s Lando Norris scratching his nose.”

You laughed at his impersonation and sat at the edge of the bed. It was such an innocent thing but it brought back a million memories made in this room and he was seeing them all too as he stood frozen.

“Are you going to stand there all night, Lando Norris?”

His eyes traced your lips that mocked him before he shook his head of the thought that entered his head. Going to his wardrobe, he grabbed a loose shirt and tossed it to you before turning his back. “That’ll be more comfortable to sleep in than your dress.”

You laughed to yourself as he turned away, despite intimately knowing every inch of your body, until you found his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. His tortured eyes dared you to tell him to look away, but they begged you all the same. Maybe you were feeling grateful for the rescue, or maybe it was just an old habit that you held his gaze as you rose to your feet and let your dress fall to the floor with his hoodie.

His eyes darkened and he groaned, but the sound woke him up from his stupor. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

“Wait.” You took a step towards him as he stepped towards the door. “Please stay.”

He heard the fragility in your tone and the residual fear from the evening creeping back. He knew it was a bad idea but he couldn’t find the words to voice them as he gripped the door handle.

You watched his fingers release their tight hold before he nodded. “But please put the shirt on,” he pleaded as you tested his self restraint.

It was summer and the air still held warmth despite the early hour, but you dutifully pulled it over your head and climbed into the sheets. Lando waited until you were completely covered before he walked around to his side of the bed and curled up at the edge.

You both lay in silence, back to back, watching the shadows on the wall as the minutes ticked away. Lando was like a heat seeking missile and he was fighting an internal battle to keep from rolling over and curling his body around yours. You had always loved physical contact, it was comforting to be wrapped in his arms.

You knew he was awake and uncomfortable.

He knew you were awake and uncomfortable.

A few more minutes passed and you could no longer pretend he didn’t exist, or that you didn’t want the comfort he could give. “Lan?”

“Yeah?” His response was instant and you felt the bed shift as he rolled onto his back.

“Stop being weird and just cuddle me so we can get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You giggled and reached blindly for him. “I am already.”

Your hand found his arm and he shimmied across the space until it curled around your waist. His knees tucked behind yours and his breath warmed your neck as he whispered, “I’m sorry. For everything. I know you hate me, but-”

“I don’t,” you interjected, twisting your neck to look at him in the dim light. “I did, I really did. But I don’t anymore.”

“You should. I hurt you so bad. I deserve your hate.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and looked away as you admitted aloud what you had known for a while. “I can’t hate you, Lan, not when I still love you.”

Lando froze still behind you and you weren’t sure if he was even breathing. “You still love me?” Disbelief, wonder, hope - it was so saturated in that question.

“I thought something terrible was going to happen to me tonight so I called you in case it was the last time I could. I didn’t want ‘I hate you’ to be my last words to you.”

Lando’s gut clenched at the thought and his arms tightened around you, crushing your back to his chest. “I wish you called sooner, I would come day or night to get you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” he said sadly. “Every weekend for the past five months I wonder if you are out drinking and clubbing. I know it’s not my place, and I lost all right to know where you are, but I need to know you safe, sweetheart. It kills me to think that there might be someone else looking out for you, because that was my job. It should still be my job, to protect you, because I love you too. I never stopped loving you.”

You squirmed in his arms but they were too tight to move. “Lan, I need you to let go of me,” you murmured.

“I’ve tried, but I can’t. I can’t give up on us.”

“Lan.”

His breath was shaky but he released his tight grip on you, despite his desire to keep you close. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

He started to pull away but you finally had room to move and followed. “Lando! Come back, you muppet. I just wanted to see your face without breaking my neck,” you laughed.

He paused, a little from appearing between his brows. “Let go…oh…” His eyes lit up even in the dark room and he bundled you back into his arms. “Muppet is my word.”

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. “I stole it too, like your hoodies.”

“I was a muppet so you can have it this time.” He pulled back so he could find your eyes. “Where does this leave us?”

“You broke my trust.” You felt him deflate at the words. “But when I needed you, you came.”

“You called.”

Your chest felt light with emotion those two words brought and you combed your fingers into his dark curls. “I don’t know where this leaves us but what I do know is that I really want you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Now? Are you sure? It might just be the adrena-”

“Shut up and kiss me, Lan.”

He didn’t need to be told a third time.

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 1)

Hot, rich, lawyer Agatha comes into the bakery where you work and she takes quite an interest in you (or Sugar mommy Agatha)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none yet

A/N: hope you guys like this one!

The bakery is always dead on Sunday afternoons. 

You’re not really sure why, maybe people are getting ready for the week or something, but it seems that in the town of Westview, no one craves sweets on Sundays. 

You’re not complaining, though. That just means you get to sit in an empty store and scroll on your phone and still get paid. 

Working at the bakery part time was a nice way to make some money while you finish up college, and to be honest, you did really like it. Your coworkers were all super nice and it wasn’t a very demanding job either. 

And then the bell on the door rings. You look up from your phone, startled. 

It’s a woman that you’ve never seen before. 

She’s wearing a tight white blouse under a brown blazer and smart gray pants. Her long, dark hair flows freely over one shoulder and her pale skin and blue eyes are striking. She is attractive. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve always had a thing for older women. 

“Hi,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” You ask the rehearsed question. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said it in your sleep at this point. 

“What do you recommend?” 

You’re not even sure she’s looked at the menu that’s posted above the counter. “Depends on what you like. We have cupcakes, cake, pastries. It’s all good. What are you in the mood for?” 

You might be imagining it, but it really seems like her eyes rake up and down your body. She shrugs noncommittally. “Something fresh, something…sweet.” You swallow hard at the glint of heat in her eyes. 

“I just took a batch of cupcakes out of the oven,” you say. “Do you like red velvet?” 

“Sure, hon. I’ll take three,” she says. You smile wearily and get to work packaging them up. She watches you the whole time. 

You ring up the purchase on the register and clear your throat. “That’ll be $7.50.” She smirks and pulls out her wallet, flipping through bills. She pulls one out and hands it to you and your mouth falls open. 

It's $50.

“Keep the change,” she says with a wink. She grabs the box and walks swiftly out of the bakery. 

You assume it’s a one-time thing and pocket the extra money. You secretly hope she comes back though. 

And sure enough, she struts back in three days later, dressed just as nicely as she was the first time. You’re working the morning shift before your afternoon class and you are sipping on a desperately needed cup of coffee. She must be really rich, you think as she walks up, a smile playing on her lips. 

“Morning, hon,” she says. 

“Good morning, how are you doing today?” 

“Better now,” she replies and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter. “Can I get an espresso and a piece of cinnamon crumb cake?” 

“Of course. Anything else?” 

She raises an eyebrow teasingly like she wants to make a joke but says, “That’s all, dear. Thank you.” 

“Your total comes to $8.75,” you tell her. “For here or to-go?”

“For here, please.”

“I’ll get you the cake and then the coffee will be ready soon.” 

When you turn back with the piece of cake on a plate, she’s holding another $50 bill between her fingers. 

“Oh, I can’t–” She cuts you off by putting it into your uniform shirt pocket and pats it. You freeze with her hand basically touching your boob. She smirks and takes the plate from your hand and goes to sit in a corner booth. You don’t allow yourself to look at her as you make her espresso. 

She’s on her phone when you walk over to her, but she looks up earnestly when you put the cup down in front of her. 

“Here’s your coffee,” you say and you’re turning around to go back behind the counter when she touches your wrist. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” She asks, and it’s clear she’s not asking. And even if she was, she’s tipped you almost more than you make in a day on two separate occasions. You plop down on the other side of the table. “How do you like working here?” 

“Oh, um, it’s nice. I enjoy it. Plus we get dessert for free so can’t complain,” you say, a little surprised by the question. 

“Are you still in college?” 

“Yeah, I’m graduating in the spring.” She nods like she’s deep in thought. “What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer,” she answers, confidence oozing from her voice. Her tipping so much makes a lot more sense now. You launch into a series of questions, absolutely fascinated by her words, and she gives you everything you want. 

You’re so engrossed in her stories that you almost miss the bell to the bakery ringing. You suddenly jolt and remember that you’re supposed to be working. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say hastily and dart back behind the counter. A man orders a croissant and a coffee and you get his order out quickly. You want to back over to the woman, but you feel like you shouldn’t, especially with the other customer in here now. You can feel her looking at you the whole time though. 

A few minutes later she walks back up to the counter and places her empty coffee cup and plate down. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say, surprised. You usually clean off the tables yourself. 

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes sweep over your face. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

“I’ll be here,” you joke lamely but she smirks regardless. “I’m y/n.” 

“I know,” she responds, reaching over again to tap on the tag that clearly says your name. You blush furiously and fight the urge to hide your face in your hands. “I’m Agatha.” 

“Nice to meet you, Agatha,” you say, trying out her name on your tongue. You like how it sounds, how it feels. 

“Have a good day, hon.” Before you can tell her to have one too, she’s on her way out of the bakery, the bell announcing her departure. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. How is it that she can have this much effect on you after meeting her twice? 

You take the bill from your shirt pocket and put it in the register, collecting the change. Sure she’s rich, but she doesn’t have to be giving you this much money. 

So why is she? 

You spend the rest of the day thinking about Agatha. 

The next day, she comes strolling in at the exact same time. You’re doing some school work on your laptop and you hope you don’t visibly perk up as much as you feel. You wonder if those three days you didn’t see her between the first meeting and yesterday she had come by when you weren't on shift. 

But that’s a crazy thought, because surely she isn’t coming by just to see you. She orders the same thing: an espresso with a piece of cinnamon crumb cake. 

She gives you another crisp $50 bill.

“I know you have money to burn, being a fancy lawyer and all,” you tease. “But please don’t go broke buying coffee and cake.”  

She laughs melodically. “Doll, I’m not just buying coffee and cake, I’m thanking the excellent service.” And once again, she’s made you flush. You inwardly tell yourself that you need to stop letting her have such an effect on you. 

You get her the cake and she goes to sit down at the booth from yesterday and you begin making her coffee. You’re lost in thought, wondering if Agatha will invite you to sit with her again, when your hand shakes as you're pouring coffee from the pot to the cup and splashes onto your hand. 

You gasp loudly and drop the pot. It shatters all over the counter and soaks your laptop. 

“Oh, god, no!” You groan and rush to grab paper towels. You quickly sop up the mess from your laptop and carefully collect the pieces of glass. 

“Everything okay?” Agatha asks and you turn to find her standing at the counter again, a look of worry on her face. 

“Yeah, god, I’m sorry, I accidentally dropped the coffee,” you sputter. You throw the towels away and open up your computer, frantically pressing the power button.

It doesn’t turn on. 

With a defeated sigh, you close it and pinch the bridge of your nose. Of fucking course. You aren’t sure how you’re going to pay for a new laptop. 

“You okay?” Concern laces Agatha’s voice. 

You scoff and shrug. “There could not be a worse time for my computer to break. I have school work that needs to be done – I have an exam to take! And now I have to go find time to go to the store and buy a new one and ugh. It’s just so frustrating.” It feels good to vent and then you realize that you’re talking to basically a complete stranger. You straighten up. “Sorry, let me get a new pot and I’ll have that espresso right up.” 

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get it next time.” She winks at you. 

“Next time it’s on the house,” you say. She laughs like it’s some sort of inside joke. Granted, if she keeps tipping like she does, you could buy yourself a new computer in no time. 

You still don’t know why she’s doing it. You open your mouth to say something, maybe ask her what she’s doing here, but she cuts you off. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you later?” She asks, sounding slightly hopeful. 

“You know where I’ll be,” you answer, feeling a longing pang in your chest as her face lights up at your cheesy comment. 

“Sorry about your laptop,” she adds before she sticks another $20 in the tip jar. You gape at her as she smirks and walks out. She is quite literally just throwing cash at you. 

And it doesn’t stop there either. 

You’re just about to finish up your shift when a man walks in, carrying a white plastic bag and a clipboard. 

“Y/n?” He asks, looking at a piece of paper. You affirm and he puts the bag on the counter in front of you. “Sign here, please?” You’re not quite sure what’s happening at all but you do as you’re told. 

Once he walks out of the bakery, you practically tear open the bag to see what’s in it. The first thing you find is a note. 

Hope this will suffice. Let me know if you like it. X, Agatha. And then a number at the bottom. Your mouth drops open and you go back into the bag and pull out a box. You take the top off and inside is a sleek, dark, new MacBook Air. Probably close to a thousand dollars.  

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath. You run your hands over the smooth cover and open it up. It blinks to life and you actually laugh out loud. 

Fucking Agatha. You’ve met her three times and she just bought you a brand new computer because you accidentally spilled coffee on yours just that morning. 

Speaking of the older woman. You pull out your phone and type the number into it. 

It’s y/n. Thank you so much for the laptop! You are literally a lifesaver. Is there anything I can do to repay you? I’d give you free coffee and cake for the rest of your life, but I might get fired. Thanks again!  You decide it’s a good mix of gratitude and humor and send it. 

Bubbles immediately appear and you wait with bated breath. 

Finally a response appears and heat courses through your veins. 

Of course, doll, it’s my pleasure. And don’t worry about paying me back just yet. I’m sure we’ll figure something out ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyone want to be my sugar mommy lol

[nanenna]

DPxDC idea: zombie apocalypse.

It's pretty common in zombie apocalypse stories for zombies to not attack each other, they somehow can tell themselves from the delicious delicious living beings. So I think it'd be interesting if anyone who's died died also does NOT ring the zombie dinner bell.

Example: Jason obviously smells so unappetizing to zombies, they don't even bother trying to bite him. Jason is weirded out by this, he stops jokingly calling himself a zombie. (Honestly depending on how far back in canon you wanna go about half the bats/birds are undead.)

And obviously Danny, Vlad, Dani/Ellie, and Dan (if you wanna include him) are some form of undead. It could be fun to play with the fact that zombies and ghosts are the apples and oranges of undead. Yeah, they're both fruit/undead, but they're also basically opposites. How would Danny's frenemies react to zombies invading the living realm?

And that's not even getting into liminality. Are humans that have been exposed to ectoplasm and/or the Laz pits just generally less appetizing to zombies? Like it confuses their senses? Just imagine you're in the middle of trying to survive the zombie apocalypse and then in bursts Batman and friends in their normal costumes with no fear because zombies just don't want them. The bats are acting like it's business as usual, that'd be so bizarre after the hell you've been through. And then they take you to this middle of nowhere town called Amity Park where people are living like it's pre-apocalypse because zombies get close and just turn away before crossing into town.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Jungkook Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

Home (f s a) by @bonny-kookoo

One Shots

forget me not (a f) by @alexlwrites ⊹₊⋆ The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before. Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

champagne confetti (a s) by @pennyellee ⊹₊⋆ You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

bottle up old love (a s f) by @wintaerbaer ⊹₊⋆ Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

cabin fever (f s a) by @jeongi ⊹₊⋆ trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two. 

romantic dreams (s a) by @kooktrash ⊹₊⋆ he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.

Guilty Pleasures (a s) by @kookslastbutton ⊹₊⋆ Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

Better Boyfriend Than Him (a s) by @jungqkook ⊹₊⋆ jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

strictly platonic (f a s) by @jeonqkooks ⊹₊⋆ Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

[luviestarz]

jeon jungkook fic recs!

❁ romantic dreams | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.)

❁ Toned, Tanned, Fit & Ready - jungkook - @thvhoe (Jungkook loves acting like the word "Pain" doesn't exist in his vocabulary.)

❁ redamancy - jjk (part II) - @lesgetittkookie (jeongguk is just a normal dude with a simple routine. wake up, go to the gym, work his job as a waiter at this posh upscale restaurant in the heart of gangnam before coming home to a night full of video games and ramen (it's delicious and cheap). that routine gets disrupted when he accidentally taps the back of an expensive sports car of one of the richest men in south korea. considering he's broke, he couldn't afford to pay for the damages so the man makes a deal with him by offering him to work at his house as one of the gardeners. jeongguk takes it but wasn't prepared to meet this beautiful young woman who's constantly lounging by the pool, you, the rich man's daughter.)

❁ guys my age | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.)

❁ perfect timing. - jungkook - @delugguk (one night in a city full of life; what it's supposed to be a friendly and fun dinner date, ends up with a night full of unrevealed secrets and unexpected pleasure.)

❁ ⤷ seven days — jjk - @jvngkoos (jungkook does everything to make you forgive him for seven days, will you pity him and accept his apology?)

❁ visions - jungkook (yandere) - @trivia-yandere (you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go.)

❁ ⤷ got her skippin’ work — jjk - @jvngkoos (trying to go to work is an everyday challenge for you with a boyfriend like jungkook, and it’s one of those mornings where he does anything and everything to keep you in bed with him)

❁ ego season masterlist | jjk - @sparklingchim (your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.)

❁ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

❁ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

❁ seven days a week | jjk (m) masterlist - @jjkeverlast (jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.)

❁ blueberry haze | jjk - @caelesjjk (he had been eye fucking you from the stage all night. but you never expected anything to come of it. but when you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents.)

❁ cabin fever | jjk (m) - @jeongi (trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two.)

[breannasfluff]

The doorbell rings, marking a customer, and Danny is jerked from his thoughts as he half-dozes on the counter.

“Hi, welcome.” Straightening up he brushes off his apron and gestures at the table. “Can I get you some water?”

The flat look he gets in return isn’t promising. “No. I need to talk to the boss in the back. Watch my daughter for a minute, would you? Brat keeps running off when I ain’t looking.”

“Ah…” Danny shifts, awkward, and glances around the empty room. 

Customer rolls his eyes and slouches out the door. Then he’s back, bell dinging cheerfully, with a girl’s arm in his hand. “Sit,” he tells the girl, shoving her into a chair. “Stay.”

She’s not a dog. Danny grits his teeth and thinks about the taser, behind the counter he was sitting at. She doesn’t look scared, just huffs and shakes chunky bangs out of one eye. 

Customer looks them both over again. “Talkin to the boss. Watch her.” With that, he vanishes back into the kitchen.

Danny looks at the girl. 

She stares back. “You know what this place is, right?”

“A Chinese restaurant?” he tries. 

The girl blows her bangs out of her face again. “MSG, sure. The good shit.”

“Language,” Danny snaps because she can’t be older than twelve. 

He gets a considering look. “You’re new to town, aren't cha? I’m DeeDee.”

“I’m Dan.” He’s not going to give out his full name, not here. “And what gave it away?”

DeeDee cackles, throwing her shoes up on the table. Danny grimaces at the motion. “You got this…shininess to you. Gotham hasn’t got its dirt in your cracks yet.”

Danny glances at the kitchen where her father went. “Are you…safe?”

“It’s Gotham, dipstick. Nothing’s safe here.” DeeDee reminds him of Ember. A younger, ruder version, maybe. “But Pops ain’t the worst. He’s not my real dad, but street kids don’t get a lot of choices, ya know? I help, he gives me a place to sleep.”

“You help…”

“With the MSG.” Her grin is all teeth. “Gotta keep it on the DL though, you hear? Not supposed to have kids involved.” It’s the first time her cocky manner fades. “Don’t wanna be out on the street again. It’s hard to find a gig. Too young for shit.”

Danny’s frown is going to be permanent if he keeps this up. DeeDee is just a kid, even if she’s had to grow up fast. She's only a few years younger than him when he started ghost-fighting. 

He tears off a scrap of paper and jots down a number before handing it over. “That’s for Tony’s Pizza. If you lose this gig, you call the number and say you want to talk to Dan, got it?”

DeeDee takes it with a sneer that looks forced. “I don’t need no charity.”

Danny just shrugs. “You don’t. But sometimes it’s nice to have the option.”

Read the rest here

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 4

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Once more, I return with @jackofallrabbits and I's Hocus Pocus AU, and I'm so excited to introduce @deliasmilkshake's cover art as well! Thank you so much to Delia for their beautiful work! <3 Now we return to the boys hunting down their darling bride while the reader discovers more of what unfolded in the past.

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, (temporary) animal death, and (temporary) character death.

———

In the far distance, a thick column of gray smoke chimneys up into the night sky, blotting out the light of stars. You look back again. The road has curved and how bends around homes and the beginning of small-town business. Windows are decorated with stickers of pumpkins and cauldrons with glowing green soups, and scarecrows line the corners. The pavement becomes a sidewalk underneath your feet. In an awkward gait, balancing upon the stint of his one leg and his only good foot, Michael stays close beside you.

A tear drips from your chin onto the bloody, dirty fur of the rabbit in your arms. Vanessa’s body is warm to the touch. You clutch her to your chest.

“It’s okay,” Michael murmurs. He lifts a putrid, rotten hand as if to pat your shoulder, but stops and lowers it again. “She’s not dead.”

“Michael,” you half sob, half snap. “She’s not breathing.”

“She will breathe again.” He holds your gaze. Twin pinpricks of white flame burn in his black, sunken eyes. “It’s part of the curse. She can’t die.”

You stare at him, disbelief squeezing your throat. You gently slot your fingers through the soft white coat of the woman who no longer has her own form. The brothers did this. The witches’ curse clench Michael tightly in a dark fist of unholy power. His body has dissolved into a walking corpse. 

Will the same happen to Vanessa? Will she now return as a rotting rabbit corpse? Your gut twists at such a thought.

Why can’t the witches take it back? Why can’t they stop and make it right? Is this the reason they were hanged by Michael’s ancestor—because they casted harm upon everyone?

You can’t bear to think of this anymore. The rabbit is small in your arms and you want to clean away the blood drying on her pale fur. 

A few cars honks at another. The night is well past the witching hour. The faint pounding echo of music from a party pricks your ears. Hunching over Vanessa, you wonder if she’s ever been outside of the brothers’ home for all the years she was cursed. 

Her long ears fall flat against her skull. You gently pet her and whisper an apology. It’s your fault.

You rest your hand over her and weep again, almost stumbling down the sidewalk before Michael pulls you closer to a brick wall of a building. A soft movement pushes back against your fingers. You stop and look down at the rabbit.

Her little torso expands in the slightest, then deflates. Then again. Her body moves with life.

“Vanessa?” You touch her in the slightest. Have you gone mad or is she breathing?

“Augh.” You hear her voice slip out from the rabbit’s mouth. “How did you escape? Is Michael with you?”

In dumb silence, you watch Vanessa lift her head and blink her green eyes up at you.

“Where are the witches?” she asks, terribly serious.

The gears of your mind spin. You’ve read accounts of sickly and comatose people being buried alive through the 17th and 19th centuries. Premature burials. Sometimes, out of fear of the person not truly being passed, bells would be fastened to their fingers with a string so if there were any movement. The ringing struggle would alert any grave attendant or family members nearby that the deceased was, in fact, alive. A few days would be spared to ensure death is final before they would be buried.

But you held her motionless body in your hands. Her body is caked in blood.

“You were dead,” you say, breathless with horror.

“Now I’m not.” Her pink nose twitches. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you alright?” Michael’s brow creases in the slightest while looking over her. “That couldn’t have been… pleasant.”

“Dying never is.” She pauses. Her ears prick before falling back against her skull. She presses a paw to your collarbone and pushes herself up in your arms to be face to face with you. A whisker brushes your chin. “Are you crying?”

“No, well, yes, but I was so scared you were gone!” You wipe a hand across your cheek, smearing salty tracks of tears as you try to stop another sniffle. “How did you survive?”

“I didn’t. I died, and the curse brought me back.” Her ears give an annoyed twitch. “Aren’t you listening?”

“I’m sorry.” You bite your bottom lip. You pet her head once. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She falls silent. The weight of her green eyes falls over you, and for several breaths, she simply stares before the quiet of the street is broken by her small voice.

“When the brothers cursed me, the villagers knew they had done something to cause my disappearance but no one mourned me. I only had Afton…”

Michael shuffles a little closer. You ignore the stench of rotting flesh and hold Vanessa’s gaze. A weariness lays upon her head, a kind of exhaustion that a hundred years of sleep couldn’t cure. More than that, she seems sad and alone. 

You hold her tighter.

“I tried to get his attention.” Her eyes slide to Michael for a heartbeat then away again. “He said he could do nothing for me but give me a clean, painless death. I allowed him. He snapped my neck in his hands.”

You gasp sharply. How could he do that so quickly, without hesitation? A sickness swirls in your stomach.

“That’s horrible,” you utter. “He didn’t try to help you break the curse?”

Her paw falls down from your collarbone and she sinks deeper into your arms. She avoids your gaze.

“When I came back to life, I begged for his help. He told me to never return to him again—there is no hope for me and he would not tolerate the presence of dark magic. I would leave or else he would sic his hound on me.” She stops a moment, the silence thick. “He thought his hound’s teeth would kill me for certain. It did not.”

The unmistakable air of shame clings to her small body. Michael’s fists clench as his eyes widen. You catch the grind of his molars through the threads of flesh stretched over his cheeks and share the same fury over such an injustice. 

She was his right hand.

“Vanessa…” You touch her little head. “I’m so sorry.”

“He should not have abandoned you,” Michael seethes through his teeth. “Why would he toss you aside so heartlessly?”

Vanessa doesn’t look at Michael, the descendant of the man who betrayed her in her hour of need.

“Afton was right.” Her eyes turn upon you like shards of emerald, glinting in shattered pieces. “The curse can’t be undone.”

“No,” you whisper. “There must be a way.”

Your thoughts spill slowly like molasses. The brothers knew she would come back to life—even if throwing her off the roof is cruel and horrifying. Did they care? Did they think they could have you then if they removed every last obstacle between you?

Are they capable of being better?

Michael turns towards the street, his brow furrowed and his teeth set in a furious grimace. His darkly rotten flesh catches on a yellow streetlight, slashing over the angler cavity where his nose once was. The silence twists into you as you gaze at both of your companions.

They need your help. But how do you undo curses in a night when you just discovered witches and their magic?

“We have to keep moving.” Michael straightens like a soldier, his words faraway while his fists continue to hang at his sides. “Come on. Follow me.”

Further along the pavement, you spy a couple of people walking. You stiffen in place, glancing at Michael in alarm but he nods back at the people. He continues walking forward, undaunted. You follow him closely, peering back at the strangers to find them dressed as aliens and cowboys and devils. 

Costumes.

“We can blend in for a while, hide out,” Michael says.

“But…” You look down at yourself, your sweat almost falling off of you due to the tears and holes littering it, and the rabbit in your arms looks no better than a murder victim. Not to mention that Michael is the living dead.

“The witches only have one broomstick left and they’ll have to pick us out like needles in a haystack.” He tugs on your elbow and you follow. Vanessa nestles against your chest, strangely silent after coming back to life. Is that usual for when she resurrects? Is she in pain or does she need to rest after such an ordeal?

Deeper in town, the streets become bustling with people wearing pirate eye patches and waving hooks around, and bad, neon printed 80s costumes. They flow towards a high school, the gym doors held open where you find flashing orange and white lights with a sharp backdrop of music pounding through the air. The threat of a headache scrapes against your temples.

“We just need to hide until dawn. Then they will die.” Michael glances back at you while he drags you further inside, past the doors and into the crowded, stuffy floor of the gymnasium. 

Your shoulders sink. Scratching softly at Vanessa’s back, gently scraping away flakes of drying blood, your mind becomes lost in the thunderous overlap of voices and music. Michael keeps weaving through the crowd in a relentless march.

Death sounds too cruel of a fate for anyone. You gently pet Vanessa while she scans the room with a slight alarm. Has she ever seen a modern celebration of Halloween? She may know it better as All Hallows’ Eve. The brothers will be no better in facing such a commotion of shifted cultures and costumes and technology. 

The brothers were hanged, and Vanessa remained trapped in a rabbit form.

If the brothers die, Michael and Vanessa will remain trapped in their curses. Your heart is heavy and your feet are slow to keep up with Michael. There must be another way. 

The ceremony.

You bump into a person dressed as a firefighter and Michael glances back impatient before he drives you deeper into the gym. He finds a dark space behind the punch bowl table and tucks you both into its shadow. The flare of bright, orange lights dances across your feet before darting away. 

A twist in your chest tightens around your lungs and you become breathless. You don’t know what to do. The ceremony could mean giving up your very life to spare the witches of their untimely demise at the bells tied around their wrists. Maybe you can convince them still to give up the dark hold they have over your friends.

You could marry them. You blush softly at the thought, but your insides are knotted and caught in tangled. Can all three of them share you? Would they love you or use you simply to save themselves? Will they hurt your friends again?

Vanessa’s death and revival leaves you raw and thin-skinned, and the night spins you endlessly on uneven footsteps. You hardly notice the spill of fog beginning to sweep over the dance floor. The people in colorful costumes and makeup hoot and holler as the music changes to a slow, haunting speed.

“No.” Michael curses right beside you. “How did they get here so fast?”

Shooting a look at him then following his glance towards the entrance, your entire being grows hot and cold in a snap.

The brothers stand in the entranceway. Their cloaks and capes fall over them, hiding their unusual attire for the era but little masks the strangeness of their disk-like faces and the array of sun rays and a glittering dark hood upon another. They survey the room with a bewilderment that is both fascinating and disgusted. Eclipse stands between Sun and Moon, his head high while his eyes scan the many people, hunting for you.

The breath in your throat hitches. You could tell them that it’s alright, it’s only a festive celebration. It’s become a holiday to dress up and eat sweets and sugars, and have spooky fun and get scared sometimes. Would they understand that? Would it be less frightening and otherworldly to them if you did?

“Michael,” Vanessa hisses. Her little paws press sharply against your arms as if she means to bound away.

“Stay low,” he instructs firmly. “Stay close beside me.”

“Wait, Michael, please,” you utter but he’s already grasping your arm and striding onwards. The music swallows your voice. The pressure of tears builds until you blink and register how wet your eyelashes have become.

There shouldn’t be any more death tonight.

As you’re pulled along like a lost soul, you look back to the entrance way. For the briefest moment, Eclipse skims over the party. You suck in a sharp breath. 

He snaps his head, as if called, and locks eyes with you. You startle but can’t look away. The molten hues of his gaze holds you in place like chains. His smile expands to show off a mouthful of sharp teeth as he mouths two words.

Found you.

You duck your head, your heart in your throat, and scurry after Michael. Vanessa wriggles out of your grasp. Jumping to the floor, she hops between people’s feet and stays perfectly close to Michael despite the fog filling up the space and causing you to cough. It tastes fake and syrupy. Did they curse a fog machine? Or is this something more supernatural? 

The music begins to murmur and strike strange chords. You twist your head, briefly searching the floor in your confusion for the cause of the thick, velvet smoke. Michael almost knocks into a couple dressed as a bottle of honey and a bee. Vanessa says something, lost to the crowd. The song begins to rise and envelop the room in a haunting echo. Your head begins to swim.

Someone takes your hand. Warm digits wrap claws around the bones of your knuckles and hold tightly. You gasp. In one motion, the dancer slips you out of Michael’s grasp and spins you back into the crowd. 

For a heartbeat, Michael whirls around, his eyes, pinpricks of ghostly white, flash to you. Vanessa cries your name. Smoke and party goers cut you off from your friends as you’re effortlessly lifted over the floor.

Lost in a dizzy haze of pale wisps and swinging footsteps, you twist in the hands of your abductor and find an all too familiar crown of yellow sun rays and a beaming, wicked smirk.

“Sun?” You try to wriggle out of his hold but he’s locked onto your hips.

“Hello again, sunshine.” Sun spins you effortlessly, his cape pillowing behind him and summoning more thick fog to cloak you between dancers, stuck fast in the song as if they were sinking in mud, unable to notice the witch slipping his palms higher to hold off your waist. He pulls you flush against his chest. “I adore meeting you like this, but perhaps we might spare the rest of the night for such events? Perhaps after the ceremony.”

Your heart flutters within you like a bird. The heat of his touch sends goosebumps prickling down your flesh as you rest your hands on his shoulders. You look up into his pale eyes with desperation dripping from your every edge.

“Wait, Sun, I can’t leave Michael and Vanessa.” You try to twist back to search for your lost companions but the fog and party lights cutting over the thickness blind you equally.

He bares his pale bone teeth. Effortlessly, he twirls you over the dance floor as your poor feet attempt to keep up. The witch balances the delicate art of keeping you just on the verge of collapse without leaving you embarrassed and fallen. His arm wraps around your waist and lifts your hands above your hand to spin you like a top before reclaiming you once more.

“Of course, you can! Let’s take you far away from all these dreary people,” Sun whispers into your ear. His lips brush the shell of it. Your breath catches. “I will keep you warm. I will keep you safe. I will dance with you forevermore.”

Your lips are locked, caught between pleas to spare your friends of their curses and a temptation far greater. The promise of never being alone. The hope of kindness throughout your days and love throughout your nights. You never realized how cold you were before the brothers traced your body with their hands—how warm another person is when they hold you with care.

“Please,” you whisper. You cling to his shoulders. “I can’t leave them.”

“You will have your husbands,” Sun lifts his head, haughty but steadfast, “You will have me.”

He lowers himself to you and you are caught under his mouth as it travels slowly down your cheekbone. A heat surges through your core. He dots your nose with a peck before his eyes, sultry and softly glimmering, lower to your lips.

“There’s no need to fear now that I have you.”

Carefully, you hold still, waiting for the snap of teeth or the tenderness of his lips Sun slowly, agonizingly closes the gap between himself to you, and his mouth brushes your own—

Hands hook your hips from behind and lift you into the air, twirling you out of Sun’s stunned grasp and then furious gaze. You squeak in alarm. The world spins with music and lights and smoke.

“Brother,” Sun snarls in the way one lion might at another for stealing its meal.

“Share, brother,” Moon speaks as calm as a lake-surface at midnight. “You’ve squandered enough time with your foolish antics.”

Your hands immediately fly to the arms supporting you above the crowd. For one brief moment, you see above the thick concoction of smoke and party-goers and find Michael on the edge of the dance floor, frantically scanning the gymnasium.

You try to lift your hand to signal for him, but Moon sets you back to your feet before you have a chance to regain his attention.

“Come with me, my little mouse.” Moon shadows your back. “It will soon only be us. Alone.”

His hand slips over your waistline. Driven by pure instinct, your fingers curl around his claws while the sleek, sharp tips slide through a hole in your sweater.

“Moon?” You turn your head back, confirming the dancer holding you hostage now. He glides you forward through the crowd. His scarlet eyes are sharp with focus, but they soften the moment they meet your gaze. Weaving through costumed individuals, Moon takes you into a dark alcove along a wall, where the smoke swirls in lazily wisps and the other dancers remain at bay.

“I have wanted for you far longer than tonight.” He gently turns you back to face him and he clasps your hands between his. His black cloak falls against his back like a shield. An unmistakable understanding washes over you: you are safe. Even if you are separated from your friends.

“Moon, I…” Your tongue fails to locate the words stuck behind your molars.

He gently opens your arms and takes you against him. With one hand wrapping around your waist, his other slips up the nape of your neck. He gently cards through the hair at the bottom of your skull in a lulling, gentle motion.

Your eyelids flutter. In your weakness, you rest your head on his shoulder. Moon hums a low, harmonic sound in his chest—a lullaby for a lover. It rumbles sweetly against your heart.

He steps softly, swaying in a sort of moonlight waltz that would be better suited for a homey kitchen than a busy dance party. Regardless, Moon pays no mind to any other bodies in the room.

“Come with us,” he whispers against your hair. “Leave the witch hunter and rabbit.”

Your fingers curl against the soft fabric of his white, billowy shirt. The urge grows stronger still. It could be a fairytale. A Grimm storybook of a lonely historian and three witches.

But you screw your eyes close, and breathe.

“No.” Your footsteps follow his lead so much better, slowly twirling together. “Moon, Michael and Vanessa have suffered enough.”

Moon’s teeth flash like fangs in the dark. 

“You don’t know what they have done, what they will do,” he growls so dark and low.

A shiver overtakes you, but you gently lift your head. Moon clutches the back of your neck in the manner of a man fearful of losing something and never getting it back, despite your closeness to his body.

“I don’t know what you and your brothers have done,” you speak softly, truthfully. “I don’t know what you will do.”

A gentleness overtakes Moon. His hand slips up your cheek to cup your face.

“We would never harm you,” he whispers. “I will never hurt you.”

You lift your hand to cup his own. The coolness of his palm cradles you sweetly, a longing tipping his claw as he carefully keeps them from your flesh.

“Brother.” A new voice sounds gently beside you. “Allow me.”

Beside you both stands Eclipse. He holds out a hand. Moon gently nods, but scarlet gaze eyes linger on you with longing as he slowly takes your hand and sets it in Eclipse’s. Moon slips into the supernatural smoke and the movement of bodies enchanted by music. A backwards glance, then he’s gone.

You face your new dance partner. His gaze is golden and gleaming in the dark alcove you’re pressed against. He gently holds your hand up in a proper position of a dance—at least you think so. You’ve never danced with someone before. He touches your waist and on instinct, you place your palm on his shoulder. His black cape swishes gently around him. His crown of red rays circle the air like a king above his queen, and you find yourself blushing under such a thought.

“There were festivals in the village when we were alive,” he says in a low, sweet voice, “We could never attend. Sun longed to dance with others to proper music and Moon could have been compelled out of the shadows for just a night, but the people wouldn’t have us.”

You listen carefully as he swings you gently across the small space. Smoke spills at your feet but Eclipse sweeps it away with the sway of his cape, and endlessly, you revolve together.

“No one would have us. No one would give us a moment to speak for fear of curses.” Eclipse’s eyes lower, and a grim smile touches his lips. “They weren’t entirely unfounded. Afton was right to fear us, but he turned the village against my brothers and I. He accused us of stealing their children.”

A sharp, hidden anger, like a blade sheathed, flashes behind Eclipse’s eyes. Your heart grows heavy while you try to not step on his feet, but he always seems to move his black shoes out of the way before you can.

“Did anyone know?” you ask softly.

There is so much lost to history. Tablets and clay figures and marble sculptures cracked and buried. Letters. The truth.

As true witches, they were framed, used as a scapegoat. 

Eclipse softly presses his palm to the small of your back. You step closer. He looks down at you, his golden eyes wide and tittering between dreams and despair.

“No.” He gently steps back to lift your arm above your head and allows you to twirl slowly. An enchanting moment of twisting. Then, you return to him, clasping his hand tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” Your fingers curl over the soft fabric of his cape. “So many have been killed because of false accusations or ulterior motives… but I don’t have to tell you that.”

He chuckles sardonically. “No.”

He looks you gently over. He waltzes and you follow him in a small curve of soft steps.

“I was bone scrying one night.” Eclipse sweeps back a strand of your hair from your face, his touch velvet and light. “The villagers’ hatred was growing and I was afraid for my brothers. I needed… hope.”

You close your eyes briefly as he turns his hand, and using the back of his finger, strokes your cheek.

“Then I saw you.”

Your eyes fly open. Brow crinkling, you think of ancient fortune tellers and seers, those who claimed to see what was to come and to promise those who sought their advice that all would be well.

But that is history. This is magic.

Eclipse holds your gaze unflinching.

“You couldn’t have,” you whisper, despite yourself. “I am no one.”

His hands tighten upon you. He stops dancing. Your heart flits within you until he clutches you close in an embrace that melts your bones and loosens your muscles. 

“You are everything to us. You are our bride. You are the one who lit the starry candle to save my brothers and I. You are the one whom I love so dearly, and have waited centuries for.”

He bows and presses his forehead to yours. You breathe in a soft gentle musk and spice, and it’s as if you were home. Not your empty, cold house, but home.

“I would wait a hundred more to behold you. I would crawl out of my grave to find you. Little comet, you have been the one light in my dark death, and I will vow myself to you as your husband for as long as you will have me.”

A thickness cakes your throat. Emotion, heavy and dripping, spills into your chest. You clutch his hands. 

“Will you say ‘I do’ my bride?” 

Everything within you sings to answer him. Your silence paints your lips with faltering and fear. The sting of sorrow in the corner of your eyes begins to wet them. 

His claws curl tighter around you. His expression burns low and hot, desperate and fierce.

“Are you not lonely?” he asks in a husky tone. “Do you not understand all that my brothers and I can give you? You will know only love and certainty. You will be warm and safe. You will have all our powers at your fingertips.”

“Eclipse.” You lift your head.  A bubbling sorrow overtakes you, and your cheek drips with a tear. “I can’t. Not until Michael and Vanessa are free of their curses.”

The damning of his silence is lethal. Eclipse doesn’t move as smoke wisps by and your heart skips a beat in your rib cage. His eyes are wide and unreadable. They bore into you. You almost squirm but hold fast against his crushing attention.

“Can’t you take away their suffering? Can’t you undo the damage done?” you ask softly, your voice threatening to break. “Please. I will perform the ceremony with you and your brothers before sunrise. All I ask is this.”

A battle unfolds within the witch. His claws twitch and his lips long to curl into a snarl, but he breathes softly instead.

He moves once and presses one soft kiss to your mouth. You close your eyes.

“Very well.” He straightens. He mumbles something low under his breath, overlapping and thick with magic, and you still as he gathers you closer.

You almost can’t comprehend that you’ve agreed to marry the witches.

In the midst of a swell of energy so hot and dark, you wonder if a summer night could be conjured on an October early morning hour, Eclipse lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “I put a spell on you.”

Your heart thunders. Your fingers twist into the white flowy fabric of his shirt, and the witch takes you into his arms. The fog swirls, beginning to rise and circle you both as if you stand in the heart of a cyclone. Faster and faster still, until you’re forced to close your eyes and hide your head against Eclipse’s chest.

His fingers stroke your spine softly. The air changes, the music ceases, and you breathe in crisp, forest air. You don’t dare open your eyes.

Eclipse hums.

“And now you’re mine.”

[kairoot]

𝑴���𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

**

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

 Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all. 

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[dmitriene]

cw: dead dove, kidnapping, cannibalism, gore and dead bodies.

simon riley's butcher shop is quite popular in a small town, where, unlike the usual stores, meat products are fresher and not so overpriced, and dishes from his meat turn out to be so delicious that everyone comes back here earlier than the end of the week, because they have already eaten what they recently bought.

no one understands that on the long counter behind clean glass there is not the usual fresh meat of a once ripe cow or pig, but human flesh, among the pieces of different sizes there may be someone's overly rude neighbor, who once allowed himself to insult simon, or a young woman who was annoyingly sticky to him.

no one even thinks of the small farm in a cold, gloomy refrigerated storage room filled with the bodies of both men and women, dark metal hooks gleaming with a reflective, dim light that fades in simon's liquid eyes, the thick wooden handle of the cleaver clutched in his thick fingers, before simon raises the clean blade over his cornered victim, blood splattering scarlet and warm liquid around.

his heavy hands rest on the pale, slashed neck of the corpse to cover the grisly, blood oozing incision of split layers of the skin, allowing the liquid mess taint his bare, scarred arms and the apron, preferring to stain himself and the floor beneath rather than the walls, which would then have to be washed of ingrained dried blood and the foul smell of spreading rot.

simon is pulled out of his delicate focus as he squats down and examines each limb of the corpse, the tongue behind his closed lips running along the line of his sturdy teeth, his thick hands pondering and feeling the soft, fatty areas of the body in front of him, noting how much he can take, before a bell rings from the further side of the wall, indicating someone's arrival at the store.

he hurriedly wipes his hands so that they do not drip with viscous blood on the floor, running along the sides of his shirt with wet, soaking stripes before heading for the exit from the storage room and looking out into the store hall, eyes quickly searching for the person who came in, before his inky gaze slows down on you, meeting the peering gleam of your stare.

you're out of sorts, not on your plate, fingers tugging at the fabric of your jeans, fidgeting at the pale parts of them as you look around like a wild cat, but unlike them, you twist your nose, skin on the bridge wrinkling when you spot huge chunks of meat on the counter, the mere sight is enough to send a shiver down your svelte spine, and simon is almost ready to be offended, if it weren't for your charm.

he is used to people who swallow lumps of pooling saliva in their mouths from the mere sight of meat, even if not cooked, raw pieces attract them, because they are addicted to them like drugs, the taste of human flesh changes their typical habits of taste, animal meat seems tasteless,not so soft and fibrous, forcing them to return again and again to simon, but you are nothing like them.

you reluctantly move closer to the glass case as he lets out a hoarse grunt, his still slightly bloody hand flexes to run through the air behind the spread out pieces of meat, and when his sanguine hand hit the periphery of your eyes, you cover your mouth with your palm and practically bend over in a broken line in disgust, muffling a gag that rises from your throat, eyes rolling up and fluttering to close briefly.

makes simon wonder what would you look like if he made you sit locked in the midst of freshly butchered bodies and one still covered in flesh, not so long ago some of them were breathing, and maybe even greeting you in the middle of the street, but now their fate is to be eaten, unlike yours, and the very concept of such a depiction should not make his cock fatten up in his loose pants with dull throbbing, but here he is.

when for once, simon allows himself to speak, a smoky wheezing of a british accent envelops you in a heap cloud, immediately turning your focus to meet his rugged mug, his voice a smug tone of purr, wondering what a skittish kitten like you has forgotten here, if you can't even look calmly at the meat in front of you, could you wandered here by chance, mistaking his butchery for a grocery store.

this is your chance to leave, fly off and never come back, bottomless pools of his eyes peering at you through pale eyelashes, gaze dancing with black mirth, eyeing every inch of you with hungry, sickening interest, but you don't notice the signs, fluttering your pretty eyelashes uncertainly as your faces get a little closer together, simon's head turning aside with curiosity.

his heavy, broad body leaning on beefy hands that hold onto the counter, sleeve adorned with different shaped skulls, swirling in black ink down to his wrist, suitable for his image, which you do not yet fully know, as you mumble that you've come for some nice cuts of meat to cook a dinner, and only his store was credible.

it's flattening, knowing that an innocent bird like you recognizes his developed talent, despite all your inner disgust, and simon doesn't mind taking you further in shop to show you what he thinks will definitely fit your request, but you shouldn't twitch too hard when he squeezes your thin neck in his wide hand, fingers press into the carotid artery with a fleeting stroke, before everything floats in front of your eyes, and finally dissolves, plunging you into a gentle, sleeping heap.

simon would keep you, he doesn't want to send you on a ferry of the same fate as corpses in his refrigeratered room, despite your alluring, appetizing shapes, the curves of which he can notice even under a layer of closed clothing, imagine how your fat would feel between his teeth, filling his luscious mouth with sweet blood, instead, he may well enjoy the fat of your pussy.

there's no reason to hurt you, instead, he'll leave you to explore his own sudden attraction, cock straining against his meaty thigh from just looking at your peaceful face, maybe you'll be obedient enough to not resist his curiosity, he'll even wash the blood off himself for you, ain't no point in making an already feisty kitten scared of him.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[ccraccz]

Hello! I'm I wanted to ask you if you could make a Wind Breaker boys react to childhood friend! Reader moving to or returning back to Makochi and seeing them again?

Or like how are they with a Childhood friend! Reader? (Specially for Sakura, he is my favorite character!)

Only if you want to, obviously!

Characters: Sakura Haruka, Umemiya Hajime, Kaji Ren x GN!Reader

TW: bullying, a wee bit of angst, assault (?), fighting (duh)

FRIENDLY REUNIONS

Sakura Haruka

You were unlike anyone else when he was in his home town

You didn't tell him that his hair was weird

or yell at him that he was a freak like the other kids

He never had a reason to have to defend himself against you

He saw that you tried to constantly play with him, pointing out at the park and asking your guardian to play just for a minute

if they would let you, he would see you attempt to beeline towards him only to be pulled away before you could reach him.

during school over at his home town, students would pick on him and teachers would treat him differently

but you didn't

you stayed indifferent even if it meant getting beat down and having to come back to school to a desk filled with degrading words and a bruised up face and body

He would defend you as much as he can when he sees you get picked on by other students due to you helping him

but right after beating them, he would constantly tell you that he "doesn't need your help", and that "you stop defending him"

Hell... he didn't even know your name...

so when he left, it felt like a a breath of fresh air, the weight of having to protect someone else being lifted off of his shoulders

so when he saw you in Pothos, talking to Umemiya and Kotoha

it was as if ice water was dunked on him

seeing you, a scar on your beautiful face, the same hair style, the same eye shape and color

"SAKURA-KUN! HEEEY!!!" Umemiya calls out when the bell rings, announcing a new customer coming in. In front of the whitehaired male, you sat with an order of fried onigri in front of you and a cup of {drink}, a small blush on your face.

You turn around in your chair. 'That name.. It can't be...' Your eyes are wide as you stand up quickly. "S-Sakura..."

The same two toned hair color, the same heterochromatic eyes, the same pout and blush he had on his face when he saved you for the last time. He still looked the same...

You rush towards, him, being careful enough to not let the chair fall behind you, before tackling him.

"GUH!-" He grunts in response, holding your body to not send you both to the ground, his face bright red, nose bleeding slightly form the fight he just came from, eyes shaking from the sudden affection. He can't comprehend.

"Oh my goodness, Sakura!!" You call out, tears brimming in your eyes, hands gripping tightly "I didn't think I would see you here! Last time I saw you was when..." Your ranting fell on deaf ears as Sakura.exe overheated.

Umemiya Hajime

You always played with him and the rest of the kids in the orphanage

and you didn't judge him like other did when his hair started to turn white due to the stress and trauma he had to g through when he first arrive to the orphanage

Your parents donated a lot of their things when they where going to leave to the orphanage, which meant that you donated a lot of your own things, like your favorite nightlight because you where no longer scared of the dark, or the large amounts of books you had in your room

he was sad that you had to leave, and so where the other children.

but he believes that YOU were the most sad of them all

the memory of you, sobbing into his small shoulder when you told him that your father got a new job opportunity in Yokohama and that you had to move still replays in his mind when he misses you

the cute nightlight that you gave the orphanage was still beside him, using it for when he's awake late at night and reading

so when he gardening around on the rooftop, the last thing he expected was a call from Hiragi talking about how some "Citizen wanting to meet him"

So he has Hiragi and his group bring you to the rooftop of his school for a small meeting

what he didn't expect is to see you

Standing beside Hiragi, you huffed in exhaustion, the amount of stairs taking a toll on both your legs and your lungs.

"So... how do you know Umemiya?" the blond haired teen asks, hand on the nob of the door to the roof.

"Oh! We were friends when we where younger, but I had to leave for Yokohama because my father got a better job opportunity!" You explained, your words being enough to let him twist the knob and open the door to the roof top.

Walking behind him, your tummy churns in nervousness, anxiety running through your veins. Your hands are behind you, not wanting them to express your emotions unlike your eyes.

"Umemiya, here they are," Hiragi speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck with a large grimace on his face. Umemiya was crouched down, a small, blue, towel on his neck collecting the sweat that beaded around his neck and dripped down his face from the beating heat. He turns around when he hears Hiragi's voice, looking behind the male with a large, close eyed, smile on his face.

"Hello! Where you looking for me?" Umemiya asks loudly, before he open his eyes again and see you.

"Haji... I'm back..." Your eyes are wide. The small boy you were friends with was no longer shorter than you, his hair was no longer white atop of black, his smile was brighter than ever, and he was built.

Instantly after the nickname was dropped from your lips, his menacingly large form was in front of you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he lifts you up into the air with a squeal of exitement.

"[name]!!! IT'S BEEN SO SO SO SO SO LONGGG!!!" he calls out in happiness.

From behind him, Hiragi takes a two gaskun-10's, watching the white haired male lift you and twirl around in happiness.

Kaji Ren

You were his first friend in elementary school, being his neighbor had his perks

he would save your when you were bullied, and you would help him calm down when he got a little to heated

he would hold your hand when you both would walk back home and you would bring him extra food from your home when he needed snacks

so when you came over for your weekly play date crying, he was really angry, wanting to know why you were crying

having to move to another city was scary, especially when you don't have your best friend there to save your from the possible bullies you might gain in the new school

So when you left, he was way more irritable and much more stressed, not having you near him to calm him down with your constant affection or words

When he met Hiragi and the rest of the main group that helped him out, it always felt like there was a small piece missing

and the guys could tell that there was always something off. but they couldn't tell what it was

you coming back to your home town in Makochi after years away from it was like a breath of fresh air

what you didn't expect is to be cornered by a group of highschoolers wanting to cause trouble

and he didn't expect to see you again, saving you the same way he used to when you both were younger

It was that same move, that same hairstyle, those same angry but alluring eyes. He was annoyed seeing some stupid group taking advantage of a innocent person, Kusumi and Enomoto right beside him.

"Those damn, fucking..." Kaji mumbled under his breath, standing in front of he gang leader and wiping his face with the back of his hand, Enomoto right beside him. Kusumi stood in front of you, blocking your body and maybe even your view, his frizzy hair catching your eye.

Kusumi quickly types something on his notes app before showing you.

'Are you okay? You seem quite frazzled ( ;´･ω･`)'

You smile lightly, nodding before turning back to the fighting, watching every move your childhood friend did. Every move he did in front of you now was a more refined version of what he did back then. It was fascinating, and almost mesmerizing.

"Yeah, just..." You mumble "reminiscing the last time Kaji saved me when we where younger." Kusumi looks at you before looking down again and taps away at his phone.

'Yk Kaji? ('_'?)'

You chuckle, "Yes I do, we were neighbors-"

CRASH

You sigh. "We were neighbors when we were younger, he used to save me constantly when we were in school!"

'PLZ THAT'S SO CUTE! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡'

"What'rrrr you guys gigglin' 'bout overrrr therrre?" Enomoto asks, his tongue rolling each 'R' in the sentence.

'She was just explaining that Kaji used to save her constantly when they were younger! ( ;´･ω･`)'

You nod along before looking at Kaji, who is frozen looking at you. The stick of his Chupa Chups almost falling out of his mouth as he looks at you. You, who has changed, matured, but also you who is in constant trouble but know that you'd get help. He walks slowly, getting closer to you, almost as if if he were to move too fast, you would run away.

"[name]?" He mumbles, before being hugged tightly.

"I'm back Ren," You say, voiced muffled because of his hoodie.

[Kusumi and Enomoto look at each other before giggling and turning away from the affection you're giving their grade captain.]

A/N: THIS IS ADORBS! LOVED WRITING THISSSS HHHHH I truly truly hope that you all enjoy reading this as much I as I loved writing this!!! (I might start writing for enomoto and kusumi, they're so so so so cute, i just wanna bite them-)

[hansensgirl]

☕️ — 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

summary. — it’s the time of year to be with the one who loves you, even if you don’t know it yet.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, drugging, sleeping beauty au (but changed), kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, pet names (petal, baby), smut, kissing, choking, praise, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie kink, use of spit as lube, it’s winter, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | 4.4k

author's note. | this is a birthday fic for the amazing @xsapphirescrollsx. happy birthday sweetie! you have been my biggest inspiration since i joined tumblr. your fics are some of the best, and you are such a kind and talented person. i'm so sorry i took so long to post this! i hope you like it, darling. thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing. please enjoy this fic! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

In the last three years, the winters have been more bleak than bitter. What once used to be frostbite and fluffy snow is now dry air and slush-filled shoes. But up here, on this mountain, it’s more like a snow globe than anything else. One where the white particles won’t stop swirling, and the wind around you makes everything spin.

“Heya, Stevie,” you hum from your spot behind the wooden table. The bell of the door rings when he enters, a full six feet and two inches that you don’t even have to see to know it’s him. You’re hunched over your latest project—hemming the raw edge of some lady’s red scarf. “Hiya, petal,” he sheepishly greets.

“Got something for me? It better be an ugly Christmas sweater,” you joke, pushing the sharp tip of the needle through the fabric, turning it, and then repeating the motion. “Ah, I wish. It’s just one of the handkerchiefs my mom bought me,” Steve starts, inching closer to your workstation.

He ignores the other people there, the ones waiting for their things and the others repairing or creating said things. 

“Why don’t you just bring them all, Stevie? I can repair them in one go, and you won’t have to come down here so much,” you question, knotting the end of the thread and biting the excess off with your tooth. Steve lives up in the mountains, and everyone is in awe of him for it. 

Long journeys that only he can handle—he’s a god in their eyes. But to you, he’s just shy Stevie, trying to keep an ever-fading memory intact. 

“I like coming down here as much as I can,” he sheepishly admits, ducking away from you. His gaze flits elsewhere, to the mannequin with no arms. “Ah, I see. You enjoy the exercise?” you question, not looking up at him still. You examine your work well done.

“Eh… No, not really. I mean—I do love exercise, but that’s not why I like coming by,” he stammers, hoping you don’t force him to spell it out. Steve is as red as the roses he spies in a vase. Where did those come from? “Really? Pray tell,” you smile, standing up and handing the scarf over to a much older woman.

You turn back around and settle into your cushioned chair, with Steve following your every step. It’s funny, though. His one step is about two strides from you. 

“You,” he simply says, as if it’s something obvious that you haven’t quite picked up yet. You snort, admiring his cuteness, and begin to sort out what to do with his mother’s handkerchief. A few moments of silence pass, and Steve says your name. “Mmm?” you hum.

“I like seeing you. I love seeing you,” he emphasizes, and you beam at him, amused. “I love seeing you, too, Stevie. You always put a smile on my face,” you tell him, and his grin falters. It picks up again. 

His teeth are nearly pearl-white, straight but not off-putting. Steve is a handsome man—no one can deny that. The gossipers wonder why his ex-girlfriend suddenly left the town, and the college-aged women bat their eyelashes at him. 

When Steve visits the market or decidedly takes a stroll, everyone behaves as if there are standards to be met and sweet, simpleton Stevie is a king that’s hard to please. But they don’t know the man who still misses his strong mother or the man who tries his hardest to hold onto the past as it attempts to slip through his fingers.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out, even though you know he’s still standing before you. “Yeah?” he eagerly, loudly replies. “This one’s gonna take me some to get done. You can get your other errands done in the meantime,” you tell him.

She isn’t rejecting you, sweetie. She’s just playing hard to get. It’s what your father and I did…

The reassuring voice of Steve’s mother is right in his ear, her hand smoothing over his golden hair. He can practically feel her there—right next to him, searching for the grocery list as she gives him some of life’s best advice. 

He smiles to himself, lips pressing together yet stretched out. Truth be told, Steve does not have anything he needs to do. He convinced James to deliver some groceries a week ago, as he was too busy sorting through Sarah’s belongings.

But he’ll do anything you ask of him. You’re so beautiful and intelligent, the woman he’s always yearned for without realizing. 

It’s daily easy to put up a farce—fake smile, ingenuine gleaming eyes. Every woman who passes by Steve swoons, unlike how it was years ago. When he was bullied for things out of his control. No woman wanted him then, but now they all do. In his mind, he sort of scoffs. They don’t hold a candle to you—his dream girl. 

“Hey, Steve!” a familiar voice calls out, capturing the blond’s attention. He quickly pinpoints where it’s coming from despite the burning of his ears. The temperature has dropped overnight, and Steve worries you aren’t dressed warm enough to withstand the frigidness. 

Natasha stands by a French-style door, cheeks almost as red as her hair. She waves to Steve before making a come-hither motion with her hand, beckoning her friend. He eagerly makes his way over to her before breaking out in a light jog to speed things up.

“How’s it been?” Natasha asks, enveloping Steve in a hug. “Great, actually,” he tells her, much to her surprise.

It’s unlike Steve to lie about how he feels, especially at such a vulnerable moment in his life. And it’s so odd that she cannot sense an ounce of fiction in his words. “Really?” she questions, rubbing his back as usual before pulling away. “Yeah… Well, it’s been a bit hard, but…” he trails off, cheeks flushing.

“But?” Natasha prompts, ushering him into her store. It’s a hidden gem in the county but constantly raved about throughout town. Whatever other shops don’t have, she does—even the most unlikely of things. 

“I… Well, there’s this girl,” Steve starts, breaking out in a breathy chuckle as Natasha gawks at him. “A girl, huh?” she laughs, mindlessly shifting bottles on a shelf that’s just been organized. “Yeah, a girl. Gosh, Nat, she’s the best. I can already see her in a wedding dress,” he expresses. 

“She must be a catch. She’s got you rhyming and wanting to get married,” Natasha jests, happy to see her once-wilted friend now bloom. The two friends giggle in tandem before sighing deeply. “Well, if I’m being completely honest, she’s also got me staying up way too late at night. I can barely get an hour these days.” Steve’s confession has Natasha cooing at him. “That’s no good. Have you gone to the doctor? Bruce may be busy, but he could connect you to Stephen,” she tries, swiping barely visible dust off a surface. “Nah, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, picking up a eucalyptus candle. 

“Don’t pretend it’s nothing, Stevie. Especially not with me,” Natasha warns, reaching up to a shelf mounted on the wall. She gently grabs a small bottle of green liquid with vines decorating it. “Here, take this,” she urges, pressing it into his palm.

“Nat, I can’t–”  he starts, attempting to push it back towards his friend. The redhead shakes her head and takes his other hand, bringing the two together to cover the bottle entirely. “You will, okay? It’s just something that’ll help you. Put just a drop in some tea or coffee, and you’ll be out like a light.”

The blond nods his head, soaking in all the information. “But only one teeny, tiny drop, Steve. A little goes a long way. Too much will make you sleep for longer than you’d like.”

“As in death?” 

“No, no. Not death. It’ll be like a coma—knocked out for a few days. Only one small drop.”

The words echo in his mind as he steps out of Natasha’s store. They follow him as he returns to Snowy Stitches, and you wave him over to your station. They're barely present in his head as you speak and hand the handkerchief back to him. But they’re louder than ever when he makes a pot of hot chocolate to give you. 

Steve, perhaps your most loyal customer, visits again the next day. It’s not very busy on Tuesdays, especially not towards the end of your shift. It’s dark outside, and the streetlights illuminate the sidewalks enough for you to recognize a few passersby.

You find yourself repairing your own clothes while your coworkers chat. You’re not startled when the blond says your name, two cups of something in his hands.

“Hi,” you hum, glancing up at him and pausing your movements. “How are you?” he asks you, seemingly giddy with how he can’t stop moving. “I’m good, really tired, though,” you admit. “How are you?”

“I’m great, actually,” Steve tells you. “Yeah?” He’s got a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Yeah… What’s that?” you question, pointing to the cups he holds. “Oh, I, uh, I brought them. I made them,” he starts, nervous.

You raise your eyebrows, urging him to continue. “Well, I didn’t make the cups, obviously. I made hot chocolate. This is for you,” he tells you, placing the one in his left hand on your desk. “Oh, Steve. Thank you so much! You’re the sweetest.” With a wide grin, you take a sip of the sweet beverage. It glides down your throat and leaves your taste buds begging for more. It’s got a peppermint aftertaste that mixes perfectly with the overall chocolate flavour. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Wow… Steve, this is delicious. Did you make it yourself?” you ask before going back in for another sip. “Yep. It’s a special recipe of mine,” he tells you, smiling as he watches you grow fond of his gift. 

“Why’s it special?” you finally say, pulling the cup away from your face. You feel like a fool for not pacing yourself. But the amusement on Steve’s face quells your embarrassment. “S’a secret ingredient. I can’t say.” 

“Well, whatever it is must be magical. Really. You should sell some of this, Steve. I’ve never had anything this good,” you admit. 

“You flatter me. Well, enjoy the rest. I’ll make sure to give you another batch next time,” he oddly says. Steve has always found some way to stick around longer than necessary. You don’t think much of this, though. Maybe he has somewhere to be. 

“Yes, please. Have a good night, Steve,” you bid, and he nods at you as he walks out. 

A little over twenty minutes have passed, and it’s time for you to head home. You bundle up for the unforgiving cold you’ve been dreading and say goodbye to your last two coworkers there. 

They’re elderly women who have retired but can’t stand the boredom, so they decided to come up to your snowy hometown and open an alterations store. You’ve been working here longer than either of you can remember.

Steve watches as you do the last button on your coat and push the door open. 

He’s been across the street the entire time—hidden under the shelter of Natasha’s store. His view was as clear as day, and he was so worried you’d catch him smiling once he saw you finish every last drop of the hot chocolate. 

The streets cleared out as it grew darker and closer to the end of your workday. He was more than grateful for this. 

No one to catch him. No one to disturb his work.

Steve trails behind you silently, years of undercover work and dangerous missions coming into use after all. 

He notes the way you start to stagger, how you lean on the nearest wall or tree to steady yourself. He almost feels bad for smiling—but he just can’t help it. He’s wanted you for so long—and now you’re here, in his trap, waiting for him to catch you like the perfect prey. 

Your eyelids feel heavy as you try your hardest to get home. Your head swings, and your legs feel like they can’t work as they should. Panic sets deep into your bones as the cold nips at your skin, creating an unsavoury feeling you just want to disappear.

It’s hard to think straight as your thoughts turn into a blur of words and nonsense. You slide down on the brick wall to the old blacksmith store, where a man named Thor usually resides. But it’s winter, and he always escapes the cold weather by heading to some beautiful island. 

Everything feels surreal—like you’re half asleep and waiting for dreamland to pull you back in. You’re not sure why this is happening. Is it fatigue? Were you running a temperature without realizing it? Did you eat anything? Nothing comes to mind. 

“Oh, baby…” a familiar voice croons behind you as a large, warm body joins you on the wet ground. “St– Steve? Is that you?” you slur through your stupor, making out his blond hair and handsome face. “Shh, don’t worry about that,” he reassures, though his overly calm voice does little to quell your worries.

He smoothes a large hand over your hair continuously, holding your body up with his other arm. He rocks you like a baby—like he’s putting you to sleep. It’s terribly bizarre, but you can’t fight it. 

Not when you’re sound asleep, anyway. 

Your limbs feel heavy—like they’re coated in molasses and held down by something too strong. Blankets keep you warm, but they’re too fluffy to be yours. Remnants of an inexplicable dream taunt you—one of an ordinary day at work with a grim ending. 

You try to piece each fragment together and force your eyes to open. You’re met with a bright view from a window—and you know immediately that this isn’t your home. 

In a frenzy, you whip your head around to take in your surroundings. The room is dark and grey, reminding you of some evil castle in a movie you watched as a child. None of the items are yours—so then why are you here? How did you end up in this place? Panic takes hold, and you push the blankets off your body, groaning at the immediate chill that takes over your body. You know better than to not dress warm for bed. But you’ve got a white nightgown on, something straight out of a time long before yours, yet with a modern, revealing flip to it.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice calls behind the wooden, bolted door. You rush to it and slam your hands on the material when your head starts to spin. You’re surprised you made it that far. “How did you sleep, petal?” Steve says, and the realization makes your stomach turn in dread.

“St– Steve?!” you incredulously ask, horror painting your features. “Yeah?” he answers, closer than you expected.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you try your best to think positively. Maybe something happened to you, and Steve saved you. It’s the most plausible explanation and the one that regulates your breathing. You stick to it, turning it over in your mind and repeating this gentler idea.

“I’m coming in,” he warns, and you involuntarily take a step back. The door creaks loudly as Steve opens it, but the clanging of metal bolts and locks is even louder. “Morning!” he cheers, shutting it behind him.

His large frame blocks your view—you can’t even watch him seal your fate.

“Mo– Morning, Steve…” you start, looking at the tray he holds. It’s metal and quite fancy. On it are plates of breakfast foods that are your favourite, including two cups of coffee. “Uh…” you start, so many questions ready for him, but they all fizzle into nothing on the tip of your tongue.

“Hungry? I’m sure you are. I got you some coffee, too. But if you prefer tea, I’ll be happy to oblige,” he rambles, setting the tray on the bedside table. “No, coffee’s fine. What happened to me? How did I get here?” you question, getting straight to the point.

Steve stands up straight, and it’s only then that you realize just how large he is. He towers over you with ease.

“Ah, nothing you need to stress about, don’t worry. You’re home now, baby,” he smiles, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside him. “Hah, good one. Was there a snowstorm?” you wonder, not sure why you can’t remember anything. “Nope.”

He hands you a plate, and you note how his body radiates plenty of warmth. No wonder there’s no heating here.

“Eat up, buttercup,” he playfully rhymes, but you don’t have an appetite. 

A red mug. An empty, dark street. A brick wall. Steve holding you against his body. The hot chocolate.

“Did you drug me, Steve? Did you drug and kidnap me?” you accuse, standing up. But before you can get far, he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into his lap. “There we are. Of course, I did, baby.”

Steve’s bluntness is horrifying. But shock has you paralyzed, and you don’t think to fight him. “Ma always taught me to take what’s mine, especially when a girl’s playin’ hard to get. It was cute at first, but I grew sick of it,” he seethes, eyes darker than you’re used to.

“You should eat your food before it gets cold. I made your favourite pancakes, and I’d hate to see them go to waste,” he follows, his tone lightening as a small smile spreads across his face. “I’m not really hungry, St– Steve. But thank you for the food,” you choke out, letting his previous words sink in.

Playing hard to get.

An idea strikes you. You’ve always been a creative and quick thinker. It’s one of the qualities Steve admires most about you. “How about we save this for a date later tonight? Or maybe even tomorrow? We can go to my place instead,” you offer, feigning excitement. 

He doesn’t even take a moment to think about your offer. “Hmm… Well, why should I wait, petal? Hm? When you’re right here with me already?” he grins.

Steve’s large, smooth hands grab onto your waist, ruffling the fabric of the nightgown you realize he changed you into. His fingers dig into your skin, making you wince from the pain. He shushes you and lays back against the bed, groping at any amount of skin he can reach. 

Against your will, you can feel your skin getting warmer and your pussy getting wet. It shouldn’t be this easy to get you worked up—but it is, and you curse yourself for it. “You look gorgeous in white, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you down so your chest touches his. “But you look much better with nothing on,” he whispers.

Steve grabs onto the lace-embellished straps of your dress, and with ease, he pulls at them until they snap. The front of your gown falls, and your bare breasts are exposed, nipples pebbling in the cold air. 

“I’ve dreamed about this moment forever,” he breathlessly says, pulling the rest of the dress off your body until you’re completely naked. You can feel the hardness of his cock through his jeans, and his size frightens you. You’ve never slept with anyone that big. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me, baby.”

Steve’s hand comes up to the back of your head, and he forces you into a kiss. It’s heated and literally breathtaking. His soft lips align with yours, and there’s a mix of his tongue caressing your mouth, but he pulls away sooner than you expect. 

“Can’t get carried away—I’m usually more of a romantic, but you’re too gorgeous for me to resist,” Steve sheepishly admits, like some sort of lover. Like he didn’t drug and kidnap you. “Steve, I don’t want this. Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. We can still go out! Please, just let me leave.”

He hums as he ignores your words, reaching down to where your core rests on his groin, and he undoes his belt. He follows this action by pulling down his zipper and freeing his aching dick from its confines. Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t make any attempts to fight him, fearing his strength and what he might do if you push him too far. 

“I bet you feel like heaven, dontcha, honey? Enough to make a man crazy,” Steve grins, lifting you and dragging the fat tip of his cock through your folds. You’re wet, but it certainly isn’t enough to help with the incoming intrusion. The blond beneath you knows this, and so he spits into his palm and brings his damp fingers down to your cunt. 

The touch makes you flinch. Perhaps it’s the filth or the fact that you don’t want him near you at all, yet here you are. “There we go. I’ll make sure to make a mess of this pussy later, petal,” Steve promises, and you involuntarily clench at his words. 

Dirty thoughts run through your mind, and you can’t help but let out a whimper when he grinds his cock into your drooling hole. His width stretches your inner walls, the discomfort delicious despite the unfamiliar feeling of being full.

“There you go, good girl. Such a good girl for me,” Steve cooes, and your mind melts from the praise. You’ve always been a sucker for kind words. “Oh, fuck,” you mewl as he bottoms out inside your cunt. Your pussy grips him tightly from both the pain and pleasure.

“Shit—that’s it, petal. You got this,” he eggs on, watching as you scrunch your face from the adjustment. Steve keeps you there, still on his cock, for a few moments. He revels in every expression you make, the sharp exhale and the clenching of your fists. It’s a surreal experience for the blond—every bit of it feels like a fantasy that’s too vivid. 

“St– Steve,” you let out a breathy moan. The contrast between the two of you—one fully nude and the other still dressed—makes you feel shameful. “I got ya, honey,” he tells you. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your throat. You grab Steve’s wrist immediately, out of fear and arousal. Nobody’s ever done this to you; you’ve never thought of it before. He squeezes lightly, and you gasp from the pressure. “I won’t hurt you—I would never,” he reassures, though he’s careful not to tell you how much he loves the look of fear in your eyes.

“You know what to do, don’t you? Ride my cock, baby. C’mon, take what you need. Make yourself feel good,” Steve urges before guiding you himself. He uses his other hand to lift you up and drag you back down. You moan as he makes you fuck yourself on his dick. 

You eventually take charge—at least, that’s how you feel at first. Your wet walls slide up and down Steve’s length, coating him in your wetness. Every time he nudges your sweet spot, your knees buckle, and you lose momentum. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Such a good girl for me,” he grunts beneath you, though he struggles to appreciate your hard work. The pace is far too slow for him, so he starts to buck his hips upwards, meeting you halfway. His heavy balls slap against your ass each time, and the pleasure is so good that you fall forward onto his chest, with just the hand around your throat supporting you.

You still try to ride his cock, but at most, you simply gyrate your hips until your clit rubs against his pubic bone, adding to your euphoria. Your goal is to take what you want from Steve and put up with the disgusting act until you can escape his clutches. But you can feel your determination wearing away. 

Steve’s moans and groans rumble in his chest, along with the clamouring of his heart. “You feel so good, baby. So warm, an’ tight, an’ wet. All for me, right?” he hums in your ear, not caring that you don’t give him a proper response. He’ll fix that soon.

There’s a Brooklyn accent to his words, one that you only pick up on now. An orgasm builds up in you quickly, that familiar elastic band in your stomach tightening with every push and pull of the blond’s member.

You clench around his length, and Steve knows you’re about to come. “Go ahead, honey. Come all over this dick,” he grunts, and as if on command, you reach your climax. 

Stars decorate your vision as you squeeze him tightly. Euphoria pulses through your entire body, and your inner walls throb, holding onto the man under you. You stain his cock with your cream and let out a cry that is almost pornographic. “That’s it. Fuck, you were made for me,” Steve says, fucking into you with more fervour and vigour than before.

He makes you ride out your orgasm to the point where it’s almost too much to handle. You’ve never had a lover make you feel this good. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, petal, I can’t hold on any longer. Your pussy is just perfect. I’ll do better next time; I swear,” Steve promises, and you furrow your brows. He starts to use you like some sort of toy, bouncing you and chasing after his own pleasure. “I can’t wait to fill you up until you’re leaking with my cum. You want that, dontcha?” 

Initially, the idea fills you with disgust. But as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot, you find yourself agreeing with him. It’s filthy, and you feel ashamed of yourself, but those feelings dissipate swiftly.

He pants like an animal, taking what’s his before shoving his dick deep into you. His balls clench as they empty themselves, white streaks painting your inner walls. Steve curses, and his eyes shut from the pleasure.

At the same time, you come undone for the blond once again. Your moans mirror each other as you’re filled up with his cum. “Fuck, yes,” he groans, running his hands up and down your body, almost as if to soothe you. 

You’re exhausted. Maybe it’s from the way Steve just fucked you, or maybe whatever he put in your drink last night is still in your system. 

Either way, you doze off right in his arms, just as he’s dreamed of for so long.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers),  nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

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