#our fainted thrill carries on

[jarofstyles]

Bite

Hello my friends! Here is a vamprry one shot. It’s a darker one but I hope you guys will like it. 🎃

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WC- 6.4k

Warnings- vampire h, blood play, he kinda kidnaps her tbh, dark h, soulmates, mask kink if you squint, oral (f receiving) smut, degrading, h is a vampire so their morals are not human-like you know

Her blood pressure was high. She was sure of it.

Going to a haunted house wasn’t her idea, nor was it her ideal for the weekend of actual Halloween, but her people pleasing ways had gotten her once again. The same with wearing a fucking dress, because they’d decided to go bar hopping afterwards. Not the brightest idea at all, but she wanted to stick it through.

It seemed to be going well enough until they got separated.

She had somewhat of an idea that someone was watching her. She just didn’t know how correct she was- or how much danger she was in. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched her get separated from the group.

Fate had chosen his fun for the night.

He quickly disappeared into the shadows, his lip quirked under the mask. This was his favorite time of year. He knew these halls like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where she'd end up. He followed her as she tried to navigate her way back, unaware she had no hope there was no real way back, his footsteps silent on the creaky floorboards. It was thrilling, the muffled screams from other rooms fading to let him hear her breathing, fast and panicked. Little heartbeat pounding away at her chest. She was so alive, and it thrilled him.

She didn’t have a clue.

The dim of the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper as she hurried down the narrow, winding corridor, her heeled boots clicking nervously on the worn wooden floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard a faint, raspy whisper carry through the heavy silence, the air thick with the scent of dust and fake fog.

“Why are you running, pretty girl?” The rasping voice had her turning around, only to be met with empty space. there was no one there. “What’s got you spooked?”

Her heart thundered as she clutched her chest, turning slightly as the voice seemed to move. Like it was circling her, almost. It was suddenly that the lights went out, making her freeze in fear.

What sort of haunted house was this? And could she get a refund?

Harry grinned wickedly as he watched her from the shadows. He had missed this. The thrill of it all soothing an itch he usually couldn’t scratch. Though his usual victims weren’t quite as pretty as her, he noted. They didn’t smell as good either. He ducked into a small, concealed alcove as she whirled around, her panicked breath misting in the sudden darkness.

She could hear the faint drip-drip-drip of water echoing through the darkness, and the distant sound of maniacal laughter from another room. But closer, much closer, she could swear she heard breathing. Slow, steady, and menacing. Her own breath caught in her throat as she tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, her eyes straining to pierce the inky blackness.

“Who’s there?” She whispered into the quiet. It dawned on her that there was no party following behind her. She didn’t hear the footsteps, she hadn’t realized she’d veered off course, but she was still in the haunt. This had to be part of it- right? “I- I’m sorry I got off the path. If you turn up the lights I’ll just go back to my friends.”

The breathing paused for a moment, and then it started up again, louder this time. It was definitely coming from right next to her. She could feel the presence of something, or someone, but she couldn't see a thing. Couldn’t feel any body heat. The only thing she could feel were the vibrations when she heard a low, chilling laughter that sent shivers down her spine. "You're lost..." The voice whispered menacingly in her ear. It was when she could feel the cool breath on her neck that everything in her panicked.

She jumped back, her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet in the process. She landed hard on the floor, her dress riding up to reveal her thighs. She heard the creaking of floorboards as whatever was there moved closer to her, its footsteps echoing in the darkness. "You shouldn't have come here... alone..." The voice hissed at her. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I didn’t mean to! I got separated from my group. I didn’t mean to go off the path.” Her voice was weak and warbled as she felt the sting in her elbow from the fall. “Just let me out and I’ll be on my way.”

The figure loomed over her, its presence oppressive and menacing. "But where's the fun in that?" It growled. She could hear the rustling of fabric, and then a gloved hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. She struggled, her heels clicking against the floor as she tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. "You're not going anywhere."

He pulled her into the concealed alcove, her struggles turning into whimpers as he backed her into the wall. His gloved hands roamed her face, gripping her roughly as he grinned wickedly behind his mask. "You’re a pretty one aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Such a treat. Let’s play.” He reached out and caressed her cheek gently, a stark contrast to the other hand’s rough grip on her jaw as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

"Open your mouth." he commanded, his voice low and menacing. She hesitated, her eyes wide with fear- but he didn’t give. He tightened his grip on her jaw, his fingers pressing into her cheeks. "I said, open your mouth." he repeated, his voice leaving no room for back talk. Reluctantly, she parted her lips, her teeth chattering slightly. He grinned deviously and slowly slipped the glove off and his thumb into her mouth. "Suck. It’s for your own good.”

She hesitated again, but the menacing growl from behind the mask urged her on. She wrapped her lips around his cool thumb, sucking hesitantly at first, but growing bolder as he watched her with a dark, intense gaze. It wasn’t like she could see him, but there was no way she couldn’t feel his stare on him. The metallic taste was unfamiliar to her, but it was what would save her. His grin widened as he slid his thumb in and out of her mouth, mimicking a motion that made her blush furiously even in the darkness. "Lovely girl, finally listening to instruction." He praised, his voice hoarse. "Now, bite down. This is going to hurt, but it’ll feel good afterwards.”

The girl had no idea what he meant until she heard the mask slipping off his face and her head was tilted to the side. She barely had a second to think before she felt it. The sharp bite down on her throat, burning at the site as she let out a strangled scream. The man- or creature- let out a satisfied groan as he sucked at her throat, pulling what had to be blood from her. All her instincts told her to run, but she couldn’t. She was frozen.

He drank with deep pulls, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her upright as colorful spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark. She felt lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy and sluggish. She could hear the pounding of her own heart, growing slower and softer with each passing second, the sounds of his sucking drowning it out.

The soft plush of pleasure started to hint over her, the pain fading into the fuzziness of warmth in her tummy and between her thighs. Just as darkness began to claim her vision, he withdrew, licking his lips as he admired the two puncture wounds on her neck. "You’ve got lovely blood.” He murmured. “So sweet. Best I’ve had all season.”

He leaned in close, his voice a soft whisper in her ear as he held her up. "I should have you for the full meal... but I have other plans for you." With that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her deeper into the house, her limp body resting against his chest. She was tired, her mind fuzzy from the blood loss, but she let out a soft whimper as he squeezed her lightly to his body. “I usually finish my meals and let them run off, but I think you’re a bit too good to toss.”

Part of her questioned if she was awake right now as he carried her through because nothing made sense. When her eyes opened again, it was different. The house changed. No longer was it the decrepit source of the haunted house, but it was restored. Like it had shifted all in front of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake right now, if this was even reality, but it didn’t make any sense. The cobwebs were gone. The smell was lavish, rich, like incense. The haul was lined with velvet curtained windows and hand painted oil art, none of the flashing lights or fake fog to be seen.

What the hell was this? And what was he?

He carried her into a grand bedroom, the four poster bed draped in black silk. It was nothing like her own and she wanted to fight him, ask him what the fuck was happening, but she had no energy to do it. He had taken too much from her.

The monster laid her down gently, smoothing her hair away from her face as he admired her pallid complexion. "You'll wake up tomorrow, thirsty and changed. But don’t worry, I’ll be here for you.” He leaned over her, his ungloved, chilled finger roaming over her cheek as he caressed her. "I’ll be the only one you crave.”

——

The sun streamed through the open curtains, casting a warm golden light over the room. The girl stirred on top of the duvet, her arms reaching out to stretch before she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Her body was stiff, a throb in her joints as she let out a little whimper at the feeling in her body. Everything felt heavy still. Slow. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she took in the opulent room- one she didn’t quite recognize at first. There wasn’t much time for her to go over who’s room it was, or why she was there though, because she felt a twinge in her neck as she tried to move her head. That's when she noticed the feeling. The thirst. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, a burning, aching need that demanded to be quenched. There wasn’t any sort of suggestion about it, it was a need.

Her throat burned. It was a hollow aching in her stomach, the stinging of her throat, her hand reaching up to cover it as she flinched. Pulling it back she looked at the ring snugly fastened to her ring finger, a red gem with a gold band. It wasn’t one she had- or was it?

Her memory was hazy. She needed something, someone, but she didn’t know what it was.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door creaked open and in strolled a man, one that seemed familiar in the way that unsettled her, a small glass of crimson liquid in hand. He was sans mask, his dark hair disheveled as he grinned at her. Bright white teeth gleamed at her as he stood in front of her, smile softening as he clicked his tongue. Something about his smile was off putting, but she couldn’t look away. "Ah, you’re up. Good. I was beginning to think I’d given you too much.” He held out the glass to her. “Drink."

The girl's eyes widened as she stared at the glass, her parched throat aching with desperation. She reached out, her hand shaking as she took the glass from him. The liquid inside was a deep, rich red, almost burgundy in color and didn’t look like something safe for human consumption as she swirled it to see it much thicker than anything she usually drank, but her body was acting on its own. She brought it to her lips, the cool glass feeling soothing against her dry skin. As she drank, she felt the liquid slide down her throat, the warmth a soothing kind instead of the pain, spreading through her body and quelling the burning ache.

She probably should have thought twice about taking it from the stranger, but she didn’t. All she cared about was getting rid of the pain, getting more of the liquid down her throat so it didn’t sting any longer. The whimper that left her lips was pathetic as he pulled the glass away, his hand reaching out to thumb the droplet that had fallen down her chin back up and into her mouth. There wasn’t hesitation as he pushed the digit in, her hand grabbing his wrist and sucking the remaining drop from his skin.

He let out a low hum, his free hand reaching out to gently tilt her head back, forcing her to keep his thumb inside her mouth. "You're so thirsty, aren't you?" The man murmured, his thumb moving slightly, pushing against her tongue. "Such a pretty little thing, and so desperate for something to quench your thirst."

The thumb was pulled from her tongue, swiping over her bottom lip as he towered over her. She had no idea what the hell it was, what was happening, but her body trusted him and craved more of whatever he’d just given her. “More.” She croaked, lightly digging her nails into his skin. “Please, I need more of it.”

“The newblood desperation isn’t usually this cute. I think I got quite lucky last night, don’t you think?” He chuckled darkly, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he leaned in close. "You'll get more, but first... you have to earn it." His thumb pressed against her lips again, pushing them open as he spoke and tapped her bottom teeth. "I have a game for us to play. If you win, I'll give you all the blood you can drink." His voice was a seductive purr, his thumb sliding into her mouth once more.

“I’ll do it.” She whispered instantly. “Anything. I’ll play.” The girl didn’t even know his name, but she wanted to please him, she wanted more of the blood. It didn’t even click with her that it’s what she was drinking. All she knew was that she needed more and she was willing to do anything to get it.

"Excellent. That’s the spirit I like to see." He crooned. "Now, the game is simple. I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. If you lie, or hesitate, the game is over and you don't get any more blood." He pulled his thumb out of her mouth, only to replace it with his other finger, gently rubbing against her tongue.

"First question...what's your name?" His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her, feeling the soft suckle she gave his digit. She didn’t seem to comprehend that he was truly talking to her, or she didn’t want to pull her mouth from his finger, but that simply wouldn’t do. "Come on, now. No need to be shy. You can speak around my finger, can't you?" He smiled, his voice firm. "Answer me." His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, encouraging her to part her lips and speak.

“Y/N.” She spoke, muffled around his finger. Her eyes were hazy and soft, body warming up from the blood settling in her system and the attentive stare of the man in front of her.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He praised, slowly pulling his finger from her mouth as he spoke. He brought the digit to his lips, sucking the remnants of her saliva from it as he grinned at her. "Now, Y/N...do you know where you are? And how you got here?" His eyes were intent on her, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. "Take your time. Think carefully."

She mourned the loss of the soothing she had from sucking, but she felt the hot zip right between her thighs as she watched him clean off his skin from her saliva. There was something about it that made her reach out for him, gently tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt as she peered up at him with wider eyes. It was a good question.

Where was she?

“I… I don’t know.” She finally realized she couldn’t quite place it. “Did we hook up or something after the bar?” It wouldn’t be the first time she did something stupid on a night out.

"No, we didn't hook up. That will come later.” It was inevitable. His perfect creation was made for him. The fates had been so kind to him last night, putting her in his path. “We ran into each other at the haunted house. You got lost. Got into some trouble." He gently unraveled her fingers from his shirt, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You don't remember anything else, do you?" His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle, coaxing.

“No.” Haunted house? Her mind felt muddy. Like she was wading through quicksand as she tried to navigate the slow thoughts that seemed to be underwater in her brain. It sounded familiar. “I don’t like haunted houses. I probably didn’t want to go. I don’t… I can’t tell why I don’t remember.”

She had no recollection of him feeding off of her, of him finding her lost from her group and choosing her as his meal. She especially had no memory of him telling her why she was here.

"That's alright. You will, in time." He soothed, bringing her hand to rest over his heart. She didn’t notice it wasn’t beating. "For now, just focus on me. You're doing so well, Y/N. I'm very proud of you." His eyes glowed softly with affection as he spoke. "Here, have a little more. You deserve it." He bared his wrist to her once more, the vein pulsing enticingly. "It’s not the same as the other, but I think you’ll like it just the same. Drink."

Her eyes dilated, pupils swelling to consume the new color of warm gold of her irises as she stared at the offered wrist. Her breathing hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as her hands trembled with anticipation. She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as she brought it closer, inhaling deeply to draw in the intoxicating scent of his blood. A soft whimper escaped her as she leaned in, parting her lips to sink her teeth into his flesh.

It was all instinct. She didn’t understand why she was doing it, why she was so relieved to have her teeth in him. His finger pet at her hair as she breathed frantically through her nose, sucking the thick, sweet blood over her tongue with a soft moan. He tasted so good. It was going to be hard to stop.

He let her drink, his other hand cupping her cheek gently as he held her to him. His blood filled her, warming her from the inside out, making her feel alive in a way she never had been before. "That's it, my love. Drink. Take what you need." He whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, encouraging her to draw more deeply from his vein.

Her jaw ached as she continued to suckle at him, her lips sealed tightly around his wrist as her tongue fluttered against the wound she'd made, trying to draw more of it onto her tongue. She felt the smooth of his blood sliding down her throat, filling her belly, seeping into her very soul. Her fingers flexed against his wrist, nails digging into his skin as her body shivered.

He carefully unwound her arms from around his wrist, prying her fang-like teeth from his flesh with a low chuckle as she let out a mix of a growled whine from the loss. "Easy now, love. Not too much. I need to keep some strength for myself." He soothed, running his thumb along her bottom lip to catch a droplet of blood that had escaped. "Look at me, Y/N." He commanded softly, waiting until her glazed eyes focused on him before he continued.

"There you are." He murmured approvingly, his own eyes dark with unsated desire. He leaned down and licked the wound on his wrist clean, hissing at the sudden spike of pain before it faded. Pain and pleasure went hand in hand. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He teased, his voice barely above a whisper. It would be true, if he could still die. He brought his clean wrist up to cup her chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Such a greedy little thing."

She whimpered again, leaning into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feel of his skin against her lips. She could still taste his blood on her tongue, the metallic tang lingering in her mouth and making her want more. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing with a fierce hunger that made him chuckle darkly. "You're insatiable." He whispered, his own desire rising to match hers.

“I don’t….” She stood up, legs slightly wobbly as she faced him. “I don’t know what you did to me, I don’t know where I am, but I want you to stay.” Her hand grabbed his and wrapped his arm around her. The unprecedented need for him to be touching her, it felt just as desperate as the need for blood was. “Why am I feeling like this? I don’t know you.”

His other arm wrapped around her automatically, his large hand splayed across her lower back to support her. Dark eyes searched hers, seeing the genuine confusion in her gaze. He was a stranger to her, and yet her body craved his touch like it craved blood. He brought her flush against him, his other hand cupping her jaw. "Shh, it's alright." He soothed, his voice gentle.

"I'll explain everything, I promise. But for now, just...feel." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a soft, slow kiss that deepened into something more passionate. His hand on her back slid down to her bottom, squeezing possessively as his tongue slid against hers, sharing the taste of his own blood. He felt her relax against him, her body molding to his as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. “Just know that you belong with me. To me. That’s what you need.”

Yes. This was what she needed. It made no logical sense, she knew, but logic was lost when it came to this. Ever since she had woken up she had been squirming, itching for something, and she realized now with his lips on hers and his hand grabbing at her ass, she knew this had been the missing piece.

“What’s your name?” She panted against his mouth, unsure if he had said it. Her mind was a mix of things and none of it logical.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her. "Harry." He whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "And you're Y/N." He handed her the reminder her gently, his other hand cupping her ass and pressing her against the growing hardness in his pants. "We're going to be together, Y/N. Forever." He promised, his voice dark with his promise. “I chose you last night.”

Why did that make her feel good?

She didn’t know him, and yet she was preening over the fact that he was promising forever with her. He could be an awful man. She knew nothing of him other than his blood tasted good somehow, he was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and she had gone home with him last night. None of it seemed to matter to her rationally. Maybe she’d lost her mind along the way; maybe he’d taken it from her. Regardless, she didn’t want to fight it. It felt wrong to fight it. “Forever?” She whispered, melting into him.

"Forever." He echoed, his voice a low growl that made her hot between her thighs. "I'm going to take care of you, Y/N. I'm going to give you everything you need. Teach you all you need to know. I created you, and I’ll take care of everything you need." He promised, his other hand sliding up her back and into her hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened their kiss.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he held her close. His hand in her hair tightened slightly, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss further. His other hand never left her ass, squeezing it gently as he pressed her against his hard length. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he looked down at her. "I want to take care of you, Y/N."

She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she parted her lips to his expert kiss. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her hips against his, feeling his cock against her belly. When he broke the kiss, she whimpered in protest, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. "Please..." she breathed, not even knowing what she was begging for, only that she needed more of him.

Harry's pride swelled at the sight of her, so needy and desperate for him. He loved it. He loved how much she craved him, how much she needed him. The choice to take her, to make her his mate was the correct one. It was in his bones, he knew it the moment he had heard the panicked pitter patter of her heart in the dilapidated facade of the hallway. He leaned down and captured her lips in another deep kiss, letting them linger. "Don’t fret. I'll give you everything you need, Y/N," He promised against her lips. "But first, I need you to sit on my lap."

The creature guided her with his hands on her hips, helping her straddle his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her skirt riding up to reveal the softness of her thighs to the creature, against what was sure to be any sliver of self preservation. He groaned softly, his hands running over them appreciatively. He had so much to observe and worship with her- this was just the beginning for them. "Now, touch me." The vampire instructed, his voice low and commanding. "Anywhere you want." He watched as she hesitantly reached out, her hands exploring his chest through his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

He smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes darkening with desire as she grew bolder, her touch making him sigh as she ran her hands over his abs and chest. He could feel her touch through his shirt, her fingers trailing fire wherever they went. "More..." he encouraged, his voice a low growl. He wanted her touch on his bare skin. As if reading his mind, she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly.

He sat still, letting her undo his shirt, his breath hitching as she revealed his chest. He had always been proud of his physique, and the way she looked at him now, with wonder and admiration in her eyes only made him feel more smug about it. Once the shirt was open, she hesitated, looking up at him with a hint of uncertainty. As cute as it was… That wouldn’t do. He reached up and gently pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the side.

"Touch me."

She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing against his bare chest. He hissed at the touch, his abs tightening as she ran her hands over them, feeling the hard muscles. The girl leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his chest, kissing and licking his skin with her lips smearing against the cool skin, falling into the intimacy easier as he held onto her and pushed her dress further up. Harry growled softly, his hands gripping on her hips as he thrust his own upwards at the tongue lathing over the side of his throat, the movement pushing his erection against her core.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, her hips grinding down to meet his thrusts. She was so engrossed in the sensations that she didn't notice his hands sliding up her thighs, bunching up her skirt until his fingers brushed against the hem of her underwear. He broke the silence of panting breaths, his voice hoarse. "S’my turn. I'm going to touch you now, Y/N."

She needed it. Her body was yelling at her to submit, to let him touch, because that’s what was necessary. It was a craving. Words echoed in her mind, his voice telling her ‘When you wake up, I’ll be all you crave’ or something like that, but she couldn’t focus on it when she felt his fingers brush her humid cunt.

Her response was a needy whimper, her head falling back to expose her neck as her hips canted forward, giving him better access. He hummed in approval, his fingers slowly sliding under the lace of her underwear to touch her bare flesh. She was so wet, so ready for him. He rubbed her slowly, his touch gentle, coaxing more needy noises from her. "That's it, love. I know what you need. Let me give it to you."

He slipped a finger inside her, her tight warmth clenching around him. The sensation of it made him groan, his head dipping down to nuzzle against her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as he began to move his finger in and out of her slick hole. Her breathing caught, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as she panted his name. "Harry."

"I know, my love. I know. It feels so good, doesn’t it?" The croon was slightly smug, but she didn’t care. It felt too good to have his finger inside of her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

"More." She begged, her body tensing as he curled his finger upward, finding that sweet spot inside her. He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping against her skin, making her hips buck against his hand. It felt better than she ever remembered a simple finger inside of her feeling, but it didn’t make much sense. Nothing about this did.

"I'll give you more." His hand stilled for a moment, his fingers sliding down to gather more of her essence before he added another finger, filling her more for a few more thrusts. "But first, let me have a taste."

Y/N yelped in surprise as she was flipped, tossing her right on the mattress she had slept on. There was little time to prepare as he gripped her dress, tearing it in two so easily that she gaped at the strength of him. She knew the dress was slightly cheaper- she was on a budget, sue her!- but how could he do that?

The thought had to go on the back burner though, watching as he got to her knees between her thighs and spread them open for his viewing pleasure.

The man looked up at her, his eyes devious as he held her thighs open, preventing her from closing them. "Very pretty everywhere, aren’t you?” Leaning down, his tongue flicked out to taste her, dragging through her folds. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as the sensation of him tasting her rushed through her. "Mm.. and you taste so good here, too... Not just your blood. I did a good job in choosing, didn’t I pet?"

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, let alone think about what he was saying fully before he began to lick and suck at her, his tongue delving inside her to taste her nectar. Instead, she moaned, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as she writhed with pleasure. He was relentless, his mouth working her clit with expert precision until she was panting and begging for something. What? She wasn’t sure.

"Please, Harry. I need..." Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him, unable to finish her sentence as his dark eyes looked up at her with his mouth expertly latched onto her, messily slick with her on his lips and chin.

"I know what you need." He snarled against her wet flesh, sending vibrations through her core. “Be quiet and let me give it to you.”

He sucked her into his mouth, his lips wrapping around her clit as he suckled. His tongue lashed against her, his hands gripping her thighs and spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper, licking and nipping at her delicate folds. His tongue plunged deep inside her, withdrawing and surging forward once more, making her keen as she tilted her hips up towards him, trying to write but unable to close her legs with how he held her open for him.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he devoured her, his fingers digging into her soft, warm flesh. She could feel his cool touch on every inch of her, his tongue plunging into her core again and again, his mouth suckling at her swollen pearl. She was helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, her hips bucking against his mouth as she neared the edge. "Harry, please. It's too much..."

He growled against her, the vibrations pushing her even closer to the edge. "No, it's not." The vampire mumbled, his voice muffled against her wet flesh. His arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her down as he continued to feast on her. Golden eyes lifted to meet hers, the possessive look in them making her feel hotter despite the cool touch of his hands. He meant every bit of this. There was no hint of casual about this. The man meant it when he said she was here forever. "You can take more, Y/N. You’ll take what I give you, because you belong to me now. I created you."

His words sent a flash of heat through her, his dominance washing over her like a tidal wave. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and mouth working her relentlessly.

It was simply too much.

The new blood in her veins, the unrelenting pleasure, the claim of ownership, all of it had her losing grip on whatever sense of reality she had left. Moans echoed through the room as she climaxed hard, her entire body shaking with the force of it. He didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck even as she came, prolonging her orgasm until she was a sobbing, shaking mess.

Her sobs turned into screams as another wave of pleasure hit her, his fingers joining his mouth as he pushed three inside her, continuing to pump in and out of her as he drank her release from her core. His tongue lashed against her as he drank her in, his fingers crooking up to find that spot inside her that made her see stars.

With a final lap at her pussy, he pulled back, his face glistening with her essence. His eyes locked onto her thigh, his hand trailing up to caress the tender skin. The creature needed more of her. To solidify their bond even more.

There was no words exchanged as he made the decision for them, spreading her out and finding the spot he wanted, where he could see the pulse still thrumming under her skin. He leaned down, his fangs sinking into her flesh as he drank from her, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He growled against her, his voice muffled as he took deep pulls, her orgasm sweetened blood flowing into his mouth making him moan and his cock pulse inside of his trousers. She wasn’t a full blood like him. He’d be taking advantage of the human blood flowing through her veins every day for the rest of eternity.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he fed, his touch proprietorial and unyielding. She could feel the pull at her vein, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her, heightening the sensitivity of her over stimulated body. She whimpered, her hands finding his hair and tangling in the silky strands as he drank from her. He didn’t want to pull off, knowing it made her feel good and knowing she tasted this good because of him, but he wanted to enjoy her in the softness of post orgasm and feed haze. Retracting his teeth, he sighed deeply, licking over the bleeding mark on her inner thigh. It was dangerously close to her cunt- something he liked.

A meal with a view.

The vampire had waited this long to take a mate. He deserved to enjoy it.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers as he licked his lips clean. His face was a stark contrast of brutal and beautiful. Blood stained his swollen mouth and chin, a stark crimson against his pale skin. His eyes glinted with a feral light, his pupils dilated with satisfaction and desire. The creature’s dark hair was mussed from her hands running through it, making him look deliciously disheveled.

It was unsettling knowing something so dangerous could be so beautiful.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, little treasure.” He purred, giving her mound a kiss before licking over his bottom lip to chase the taste of her cunt and the blood he had just pulled. “My favorite creation yet. I can’t wait to play with you some more.” His nails dragged down the sensitive skin of her outer thighs, making her squirm in his grip. “I hope I don’t break you too soon.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part three of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, theo was starting to get reckless with your secret.

↬ sfw; angst + hurt/comfort; wc: 3.0k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

thank you for all the supportive comments! wait for part four for the big showdown...

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed in a soft layer of snow, the air filled with the mingling scents of spiced cider and chocolate wafting from the shops. You tugged your scarf tighter against the biting wind, walking beside Harry while Ron and Hermoine trailed just behind, arguing about the practicality of enchanted earmuffs. The (way too) early christmas decorations hung from every storefront, casting warm, golden light onto the snow-covered cobblestones, and the faint sounds of caroling witches and wizards drifted down from somewhere near the Three Broomsticks.

“Can we stop at Honeydukes before we head back?” Ron asked, cutting off a string of heated reasons for her argument by Hermoine who glared at him darkly. “Honestly, Ron, that is your biggest concern? Buying chocolate frogs?”

Sharing a glance, both you and Harry rolled your eyes at their bickering. You chose to defend Ron, partly because if he hadn't proposed the trip to Honeydukes, you’d have. “It’s a valid concern. Not everyone can survive on determination and revision schedules, Hermione.”

The only response you received was a long sigh, audible even over the whistling wind. When a particularly strong squall almost knocked him against a house front, Harry cursed, glowering at the restless sky. “If the weather stays the same ‘til tomorrow's game, we’ll be knocked off our brooms before we can make Malfoy lose.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “Don't you mean, before we can win? Honestly, Harry, I think you’re approaching this very unproductively.” Ruffling a hand through his unruly hair, you smiled at his grim huff. “On the other hand, if petty hostility makes you fly better-”

“You’ve done this a lot lately,” Ron cut you off, earning another pissed look by Hermoine. “Defending them snakes.”

You had? Not that you had noticed, but yes, you may have subconsciously been a little defensive when your friends had badmouthed the Slytherins, seeing as you were dating one of the most sensitive and thoughtful people you knew, who happened to also be a Slytherin. “I am merely advocating for proportionality,” you mumbled, but your voice was picked up by a gust of wind, carried to the wrong ears.

You heard them before you saw them- a drawled out voice from behind, having the four of you turn on your heels. “Advocating for proportionality, are you, Potter? How very noble. I’m sure the world is thrilled to hear another Potter lecture.” A large group of Slytherins had been approaching from behind, unnoticed by all of you. Though shielded by green-bronze scarfs, you could make out the faces of your Slytherin classmates, as well as some sixth years. Flickering over the group, your eyes found Theo's and they locked in silent understanding. If you weren't mistaken, he gave you a little wink, but that might just as well have been a product of your imagination.

“That's rich,” Harry snarled back, ignoring your tugging at his robes to keep going. “Coming from you, Malfoy, who loves to hear himself talk so much he gets himself friends as silent listeners that applaud everything he says!”

Sensing an approaching conflict, you quickly counted the heads of the Slytherin group- you were looking at a four to ten ratio.

Red shot up into Malfoy’s cheeks and you caught a movement of his hand, sliding towards his wand. “Better be careful talking like that, Potter, didn't your parents ever reach you not to pick fights when you’re outmatched? Oh, wait,” he laughed gloatingly and you buried your hands in your brother’s robe in a preventive manner. “Guess they didn't have the chance before they were blown to bits!”

But your warning glare didn't only fix Harry, you had caught a dangerous look in Theo’s eyes as well. As if he had felt his eyes on you, he returned your gaze and his expression softened slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

“LISTEN HERE, YOU TWAT!” Ron bellowed from next to you, shaking his clenched fists. Both you and Hermoine shot forward to hold him back, but you made the fatal mistake of letting go of your livid brother, who barged at Malfoy, not even bothering to pull out his wand. His fist collided with his face the moment Ron followed hot on his heels, tackling a surprised Zabini.

“Merlin,” Hermoine muttered and pulled out her wand. Neither of you got to join in the brawl, though, because a very exasperated Theo had strode forward, separated Blaise and Ron and jinxed both Drace and Harry in one move, making both of them jump back and stumble. Some of his friends groaned at him, deprived of the easy victory, but his infamous death glare brought upon them silence in an instant.

Before they could cause any more trouble, you ushered Ron and Harry back on their feet with Hermoine's help, hastily steering them away from the group.

“Hey, Potter!”

Both you and Harry turned around, but the Slytherin sixth year that had spoken was looking at you. “Spare us the moral superiority in the future. You’re as self-absorbed as your little Gryffindor gang. The way you talk, it’s no wonder you don’t have many friends outside Gryffindor. Who could stand you?”

Ouch.

The hurt must have been visible in your features for a second, because his friends howled and patted his shoulder in appreciation. Harry tensed under your grip, but you tightened it and pulled him along as you walked away, Hermoine and Ron hot on your heels.

The whistles and cackles of the group followed you all the way to Honeydukes. Neither of you spoke, Harry seemed to be fuming and you didn't dare say anything to set him off.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You weren't, and you looked at Hermoine apologetically. Instead of listening to whatever your friend had to say, your gaze had gotten lost somewhere at the Slytherin table. Particularly fixed on the dark haired boy in between Riddle and Malfoy, with the face of a brooding storm. Even from the far end of the great hall, you knew the expression as not simply his moodiness but simmering anger, meticulously controlled.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely and fixed your attention on Hermoine. “What were you saying?”

Sighing, Hermoine flipped open the evening edition of the daily prophet. Some snowflakes were still caught up in her hair, relics of your visit to Hogsmeade. “You’re awfully distracted. Is it because of what that idiot Langley said?”

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew exactly who she meant. His comment had hurt you, but it was nothing you wouldn't get over. No, what held your attention in a vice-like grip that felt oh so gentle was your dear secret boyfriend who, at this exact moment, rose from his seat at the Slytherin table, undoubtedly going for a smoke to the astronomy tower.

Hermoine passed your question over, opting to pretend to read the newspaper as you could feel her careful eyes on you. “He’s in the hospital wing, you know? Langley, I mean.”

“Did he choke on his spite?” You asked absentmindedly, swirling your fork through your soup as your eyes followed Theo leaving the Great Hall. The elegance of his long strides, his upright posture, the bounce of his dark curls. It was probably as good a time as ever to realize that you were utterly and irreversibly in love with that man.

“He got hexed, nobody knows by whom. But they contemplated sending him to St. Mungos, seems like he was hexed within an inch of his life,” Hermoine explained and a realization dawned on you. An image flashed before your waking eye- Theo's expression when you had shoved Harry away. You did believe him capable of hexing Langley into St. Mungos. But you also believed him capable of a high level of intelligence that was missing from this situation.

“Was he?” you asked in a neutral voice and Hermoine nodded, no longer pretending to be interested in the newspaper. “Rumor has it that Nott hexed him, but no eye witnesses have confirmed it to the teachers. Too scared of him and his friends, probably.”

You gave up on your fruitless attempts to transport the soup to your mouth. Abruptly, you stood up and shouldered your bag with a little more force than necessary. “I think I’m going to head to the astronomy tower, I still need to finish some star charts for Professor Sinistra.”

The heavy wooden door of the astronomy tower slammed open when you marched through forcefully, the sound echoing through the chilly, starlit space. Theo didn't flinch as you slammed your bag onto the ground. He was, of course, already there, leaning against the stone wall, cigarette perched between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. It illuminated his face that was calm, almost indifferent. But the sharp line of his jaw gave him away. He’d been waiting for this.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you snapped, marching toward him with a heaving chest, partly from your run up the stairs, partly of fury. “What were you thinking, hexing Langley in broad daylight, in front of half the school if you can believe the rumors? Are you trying to get us caught?”

Theo exhaled slowly, smoke curling around his face like a shield. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, voice low and infuriatingly composed. “That guy deserved worse for what he said to you.”

You’d be lying if his dangerous dark eyes and the gravely tone of his voice didn't do something for you, paired with the fact that he had sent someone to the Hospital wing for you. But that wasn't the point right now. “You were reckless, Theo. What will your friends think? That you just snapped on a whim and decided to hospitalize the guy you hung out with?”

“They’ll trust that I have my reasons,” Theo said smoothly, making not attempts to step closer to your heaving form or meet your eye.

“And what if they believe that reason is me?” you challenged him. When he looked up, your eyes locked and the intensity of his gaze knocked the breath right out of your lungs.

“Then they do,” he simply said, making you gasp in protest. With a flick of his wrist, golden embers rained from his cigarette. “It would not be the end of the world. You wouldn't care, would you?” His gaze grew sharper and you felt utterly disarmed. “You only care that your brother and your Griffindor friends don't find out you’re dating a Slytherin.”

“I know where you’re going with this,” you pressed through pursed lips. “And it's not fair. If you were ready to admit to everyone you’re seeing the Chosen One’s sister, you’d already have.”

The force with which Theo stepped forward caught you off guard. Stopping in front of you, he leaned down and a cloud of smoke pulled you in. “I’ll do it,” he whispered to you, watching your reaction closely. “I’ll go right now and shout it from the fucking rooftops.” Crooking his head, he took a step back. “But you wouldn't want that, would you?”

You didn't answer, because you knew he was right. It was you who was trying to keep this relationship quiet, but it wasn't like you didn't have your reasons. One of them being how your friends would react, sure, but since Theo’s father was a death eater, the Order could see you as a liability as well.

Theo called your name and as if on command, you looked up at him. The cigarette lay glowing on the floor, he hadn't even bothered to smother the embers with his boot. “Are you ashamed of me?” There was a guarded vulnerability in his voice. So rare that you could do nothing but stare at him for a few seconds. Theo waited patiently, but he watched every little change of expression.

“I’m not,” you finally managed to say after you found your voice. You took a pleading step towards him, but he took one back as if on chance. “Are you sure?” he asked and a hint of bitterness laced his composed voice. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fine with me being your dirty little secret.”

“You’re- you’re not-,” you stammered, your insides were squeezing painfully with the look he gave you. “Theo, you have to understand my situation here! I mean, you didn't even attempt to! You don’t understand what it’s like, Theo. I can’t just… parade this around. Harry, Ron, Hermione-they’d never let it go. And don’t get me started on the rest of Gryffindor!”

A humorless laugh escaped his throat. “You’re an idiot.” Flinching at his tone, you took a step back, but he stalked towards you predatorily. “Do you think you’re the only one who is under pressure here? Last time I checked, the people you answer to aren't ruthless murderers.”

He was right, you knew he was right. But there was a small, defiant part of you that just didn't want to accept it. “Just because you’re ready to tell them doesn't mean I am. They all see me as this perfect girl. I don’t get to make mistakes.”

This goddamn raised eyebrow that managed to stun anyone to silence appeared on his beautiful face. “And I’m the mistake, is that it? Great to know where I stand, Potter.”

“I didn't say that!” you protested, running your hands through your hair in frustration. Theo smiled bitterly. “You didn’t have to. You’d rather keep this quiet, pretend it’s not happening, because being with me doesn’t fit your perfect Gryffindor image.”

Anger started to bubble up in your chest once more and you clenched your fists, infuriated by his seemingly indifferent calm. “You think this is easy for me? Sneaking around, lying to my friends? If they found out about us, they’d never trust me again!” Your breath got caught in your throat as your voice grew quiet. “You don’t get it, Theo. I can’t afford to mess this up. People expect me to be perfect, and being with you… it’s not the safe choice. But it’s my choice, okay? Doesn’t that mean something?”

With an abrupt turn, Theo walked towards the railing and turned his back to you. A ruffle, a click, a soft golden glow and finally, a cloud of smoke rising from his figure as if he was burning from the inside. His voice was so hushed you had trouble understanding it, drawing closer but still keeping your distance. “You know, for someone so stubborn, you’re really bad at fighting with me.”

“That’s because I don’t want to fight with you.” you said imploringly, taking tentative steps toward him. Though he most certainly noticed even the most quiet of sounds, he didn't turn around. A long sigh left Theo’s lips and a large puff of smoke rose up to the stars. “Neither do I.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers. “I know I’m not handling this the way you deserve.”

Finally, Theo turned around to you and you were taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his expression. Theo’s features were often closed off, hard to read, unmovable. But now, his eyes were heavy with emotion- a mix of regret and sadness, though a light smile played along his lips. “I’m not asking for perfect. I’m just asking for you to … trust me.”

You closed the distance between you and Theo exhaled the last puff of smoke into the chilly night air before he stepped on his cigarette. His arms reached for you and you almost threw yourself into them. You hated fighting. Once around you, his hold tightened and you felt your face pressed up against his warm chest. The tremble of an exhale left your lips as you closed your eyes and relaxed in his hold. “I do, Theo. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I wouldn’t be doing this- any of this- if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

You only got a soft rumble of his chest in response. His smell surrounded you, clouded you, and you thought to yourself you might get addicted to cigarettes if he kept smelling like them. “This might be a bad time for stuff like that, but… I've never felt like this about anyone.”

When you lifted your head from his chest, you found him already looking at you. And you had to appreciate how he must have turned down every wall he had so carefully constructed around himself to look at you with such a raw expression. “Me neither,” he almost breathed, locking your fingers. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Tesoro, your hands are ice bricks.”

“Why don't you kiss them better, then?” you asked hopefully, relieved to see a smile appear on his face. Theo brought your locked hands up to his lips and pressed slow, gentle kisses to the back of your hand. The soft tingle that followed his touch warmed your whole body.

“We’re going to have to actually talk about this, you know.” he said and you nodded slightly.

“I know. Just… not tonight.”

tag list: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme

[pandapetals]

I Can Be The Good Guy

logan howlett x fem!reader - inspired by that one scene from X-Men 2, sexual tension, making out, fluff, cute, happy ending, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan admits he can be the good guy for you leading to a makeout session.

read on Ao3

You walked down the narrow aisle of the jet, letting out a heavy sigh. The hum of the broken engines had long since died, leaving only an unsettling silence in its place. You’d been stranded for hours, and Storm estimated it would be another four or five before the jet was back up and running. That meant the group was stuck here—in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick woods and a night so dark it swallowed everything outside the clearing.

Storm had suggested everyone grab tents and set up for the night, though most of the team was still lingering inside the jet, waiting for any updates.

As you rounded the corner, you spotted Logan standing just outside, a faint ember glowing from the cigar perched between his fingers. He stood alone in the cool night air, his broad shoulders tense, the weight of something heavy resting on him. His face was half-lit by the dim glow from the jet’s emergency lights, but even in the shadows, you could see the lines of frustration etched into his features.

He saw you before you could say anything, flicking the cigar to the ground with a sharp motion, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression softened slightly, the tension easing just a fraction as you approached.

“How are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough but softer than usual, like he was trying to keep the edge out of it just for you.

You stopped a few feet away, crossing your arms against the chill in the air. “The jet won’t be up and running for at least five hours,” you replied, your voice carrying your own frustration. “We’re stuck here for the night.”

Logan gave a slow nod, the faintest twitch of irritation pulling at his lips before he sighed, his gaze drifting out toward the dark forest surrounding you. “Figures,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Just our luck.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that seemed to hum with unspoken words—things neither of you wanted to say, but couldn’t help thinking. The night was cold, but there was warmth between you, a tension that had been simmering under the surface for months.

Logan shifted slightly, his eyes flicking back to you, more focused now, more intent. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

The question was simple, but the way he asked it—so quietly, so seriously—made something in your chest tighten. You shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Yeah. I mean... I’m not thrilled about being stuck in the woods with nothing but a tent and a broken jet, but I’ll manage.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rough but genuine. “Could be worse.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a half-smile. “How?”

Logan’s smirk deepened, but there was something more behind his eyes now. “You could be stuck out here alone.”

There was something in his voice—something deeper, more vulnerable—that made your breath hitch. The tension between you thickened, the space between your bodies seeming smaller than it had just moments ago.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your body moving on instinct, drawn toward him. “Logan...”

He didn’t move, didn’t pull away. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, his expression hard to read, but there was a flicker of something softer, something unguarded. The air around you felt charged, like something unspoken was about to break free.

“I’m not good at this,” he said quietly, his voice raw, like the words were dragged out of him. “The whole... emotional thing. Being close.”

You swallowed, your heart beating faster now. “You don’t have to be perfect at it. You just have to try.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like he was holding back like he was fighting the urge to let his guard down. Then something shifted in him. His posture loosened, and he stepped closer, his body only inches from yours now. The warmth from him was immediate, intoxicating.

“I can be the good guy,” Logan murmured, his voice low and rough, with something like hope and regret all tangled together. His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. “I can be that... for you.”

You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the words. The intensity in his gaze, the raw honesty in his voice—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Without thinking, you reached up, cupping his face with your hand, your fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough.

That was all it took.

Logan moved before either of you could second-guess it, closing the small distance between you and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was rough, unpracticed, but filled with a heat that took your breath away. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. There was a desperation in the way he kissed you like he was trying to make up for all the times he’d held back, for all the things he hadn’t said.

It wasn’t just desperation—it was something more. Something real.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily, the cool night air doing little to cool the warmth between you.

Logan’s hands stayed on your waist, holding you close as he looked at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hand still resting against his cheek. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

A slow, almost hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Logan looked vulnerable. But not in a way that made him seem weaker—if anything, it made him more real, more human.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “I’ll try,” he whispered against your skin. “I don’t know how, but... I’ll try.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “That’s all I need.”

Later...

The campsite was silent now, the faint sounds of the forest mingling with the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. Everyone had retreated to their tents, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with them. The only light came from the sliver of moon overhead, casting long shadows across the clearing.

Yet sleep wouldn’t come to you.

You lay in your tent, staring up at the canvas, your heart still racing from earlier. The kiss. The way Logan had looked at you—like you were something he couldn’t bear to lose. His words echoed in your mind, that rough, unpracticed sincerity: I can be the good guy. I can be that…for you.

There was more between you now—something unspoken but undeniable, pulling at you in a way that made it impossible to stay still.

You exhaled slowly, glancing toward the flap of your tent. Your breath hitched as the thought crossed your mind—Should I?

The answer came quickly. You knew you wouldn’t get any rest until you saw him again. Until you felt the warmth of his presence beside you. The air between you still felt thick with tension, charged with the possibility of what might come next.

Quietly, you slipped out of your sleeping bag, your movements careful and measured so as not to disturb the others. The night air was cool against your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat rising in your chest as you made your way toward Logan’s tent. Each step you took seemed heavier and more deliberate until you finally found yourself standing outside the entrance.

You hesitated for just a moment, your pulse quickening as you reached out and gently pushed the flap aside.

Inside, the faint scent of cigar smoke and leather greeted you, mixed with the smell that was distinctly Logan—warm, earthy, and comforting. He was lying on his back, one arm draped over his chest, his head resting against his pack. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and steady, but there was something about the way he lay there, so still, that told you he wasn’t entirely asleep.

“Logan?” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light as they found yours. For a moment, he didn’t move, just stared at you with that same intense, unreadable gaze from earlier. There was something softer there now, something that told you he’d been expecting this.

Without a word, he shifted, sitting up slightly, his muscles tensing under the thin shirt he wore. His hand reached out, catching your wrist gently, tugging you inside the tent. You let out a soft breath, your heart racing as you knelt beside him, your body already humming with the anticipation of his touch.

“You couldn’t sleep either,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with something darker, more charged.

You shook your head, barely able to form a response. “No,” you whispered. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, but there was no teasing in his eyes, only that same raw intensity that had been simmering between you all day. He didn’t say anything, just pulled you closer, his hand resting against the back of your neck as his thumb traced your jawline.

The world outside fell away as his lips met yours, the kiss slow at first, deliberate, as if he was still holding back, testing the waters. Then he shifted—his grip tightened, pulling you into him, and the kiss deepened, turning urgent, hungry. His other hand found your waist, sliding under your shirt just enough to feel the warmth of your skin, the touch sending a shiver through your entire body.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the intensity between you grew. The kiss was rough, so full of need, like Logan was trying to pour every unspoken word into the way his lips moved against yours.

You straddled his lap, feeling the hard press of his body against yours, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as his hands roamed over your back, his fingers gripping your hips. The sensation of his touch, his lips, the heat between you—it was overwhelming, and yet, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more.

Logan’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, then down to your neck, the rough scrape of his stubble leaving a delicious burn in its wake. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your breath catching in your throat as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear. He nipped lightly at your skin, his breath hot against your neck.

“Logan,” you breathed, your hands tightening their grip on his shoulders.

His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but reverent as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you were here, with him, wanting him. The weight of his body, the heat radiating from him—it all felt so real, so raw, and you found yourself leaning further into him, craving more of that warmth, that closeness.

“Fuck,” he growled softly, his voice sending a shiver through you. He lay back, pulling you with him, your bodies fitting together perfectly as you settled against his chest.

You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you close. His lips met yours again, slower this time, but still filled with that same heat, that same need that had been growing between you for so long.

When you finally pulled back, your breathing heavy and uneven, you rested your forehead against his, your fingers still tangled in his hair. The air between you was thick and electric, but for the first time in a long while, you felt... content. Like the weight of everything had finally lifted.

Logan’s hands traced slow circles on your back, his touch soothing now like he was afraid to break the moment. He looked up at you, his expression softening as he caught his breath. “You sure about this? About us?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in his tone catching you off guard.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the gentleness in his words. “Yeah,” you whispered back, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing lightly against his. “I’m sure.”

He smiled against your lips, a rare, quiet smile that made something in your chest tighten. His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, holding you close, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You just lay there together, your bodies tangled, the warmth of his skin against yours keeping the chill of the night at bay.

Eventually, your breathing began to slow, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. Logan’s hands continued to move softly over your back, the motion lulling you into a state of calm, and before you knew it, your eyelids began to grow heavy.

“Get some sleep,” Logan murmured, his voice soft in the quiet of the tent. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nodded, too tired to respond, your head resting against his chest as your body relaxed into him. The steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his arms around you—it was all so comforting, so safe.

As you drifted off to sleep, Logan’s hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as you finally let sleep take you.

[tosomeonessomeone]

f*cking mine.

words・ 5.8k /pairings・ Vampire Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ thrilling?/ warnings・ intercourse, mentions of alcoholic drinks and drugs, minors DNI.

Hello lovely ones! At last, it has arrived ✨ I might have gotten a bit carried away with the plot and added some extra spice 😅, so if you’re underaged, you know the drill. 🐈‍⬛ anon, hope you enjoy it! Ps. yes.. I did a mood board for this fic.

YN and her friends eagerly embarked on their October adventure, seeking the thrill of Halloween in the heart of an eerie forest. Nestled among the trees stood their chosen sanctuary: a rustic cabin, beckoning with promises of mystery and excitement.

As the night deepened, laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves outside. After a lot of booze and a couple joints, truth or dare became their group game of choice, fueling the evening with daring challenges and revealing confessions. Amidst the flickering candlelight, an irresistible dare emerged from the shadows.

One of YN's friends, eyes glinting mischievously, proposed the ultimate challenge: to explore the forbidden path marked by a foreboding sign that declared, "road not taken." The warning was clear, but so was the allure of the unknown.

Despite the lingering doubt, YN felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightened by the warmth of intoxication.

As YN stepped cautiously along the winding trail, her friends' voices lingered in her mind, their laughter echoing through the dense foliage like a distant melody.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this, YN!" Ella’s voice chimed in her memory, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah, this is like straight out of a horror movie," remarked Mia, her tone laced with excitement.

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, her breath forming a misty cloud in the cool night air. "Well, what's life without a little adventure, right?"

"True that," came Hyo’s voice, her tone filled with encouragement. "Just don't get lost out there, okay? We don't need a real-life Blair Witch situation on our hands."

The mention of the infamous horror film elicited nervous laughter from YN, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Don't worry, I'll find my way back," she reassured them, her voice carrying a note of determination.

With determined steps, YN ventured into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Each footfall echoed against the forest floor, mingling with the whispers of ancient trees and the flutter of unseen creatures.

The path stretched before her, winding deeper into the heart of the forest with every passing moment. Shadows danced on the edges of her vision, casting doubt and uncertainty upon her path. 

The forest enveloped her in its embrace, shrouding her senses in a cloak of mystery and wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, held the promise of adventure and danger intertwined.

As she ventured further along the winding trail, the night itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yet, despite the whispers of caution that echoed in her mind, YN pressed on, driven by an insatiable thirst for discovery.

YN ventured deeper into the forest, her footsteps echoing against the tangled undergrowth, she stumbled upon another cabin, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the one she and her friends called home for the night. The sight of the aged structure sent a shiver down her spine, its timeworn exterior whispering tales of long-forgotten secrets and untold mysteries.

Pausing at the foot of the rickety stairs, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity tugging at her senses. The door, oddly ajar, beckoned to her like a siren's call, promising a glimpse into the unknown depths of the past. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the allure of exploration and the lingering sense of caution that gnawed at her conscience.

"Okay, YN, let's not get too carried away here," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is definitely starting to feel like something out of a horror movie."

As YN turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat as she was startled to find a man standing at the foot of the steps, his presence looming like a shadow against the fading light of dusk. In the dimness, his features were cast in obscurity, a silhouette shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Frozen in place, YN's eyes traced the outline of the stranger's figure, noting the striking contrast of his dark hair against the pallor of his skin. His attire, adorned with chains that glinted in the fading light, spoke of a persona both enigmatic and alluring, drawing her gaze inexorably towards his face.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, YN struggled to find her voice amidst the silence that hung heavy between them. And as the stranger's gaze met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the forest.

"Can I help you?" His words, tinged with an air of mystery, hung in the air like a question waiting to be answered, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of recognition or understanding.

Summoning her courage, YN met the stranger's gaze with a steadiness born of determination. "I... I was just exploring," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I didn't mean to intrude."

As the words tumbled from her lips, YN found herself caught in the currents of a moment suspended in time, the air alive with the promise of possibility and the lingering scent of uncertainty. 

"Uhh..." YN hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I was dared to travel down the trail..." Her words faltered as she reached out to steady herself against the door frame, the weight of the man's scrutiny bearing down upon her.

As the man's gaze lingered on her, YN felt a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, acutely aware of the disapproval etched into his features. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes, a silent accusation that hung heavy in the air between them.

"So you thought you could explore my house, huh?" The man's words cut through the silence like a knife, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

YN mumbled her explanation, a quick shake of her head accompanied her apology. "No, just the trail. I apologize, I wasn’t going to enter,” she muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

The man stood there, his gaze piercing through her, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm. Seconds passed like eternities as YN waited, her nerves on edge, her senses heightened to the slightest movement.

"You do realize that you’re lucky to come across me here. These woods are not a safe place for a young girl like you to be wandering all alone," he murmured, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear, her mind racing with a myriad of possibilities. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the realization sinking in that she stood on the precipice of something far more sinister than she had ever imagined.

Then, with deliberate steps, the man began to approach her slowly, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. YN's heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, making it difficult for her to even lift her gaze to meet his.

With each step backward, YN's heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The urge to flee surged within her, fueled by the primal instinct to escape the clutches of the unknown.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As YN edged backward, her back hit the wall near the door, a momentary lapse that threatened to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty. Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat, as she teetered on the brink of danger. The rough texture of the wall against her skin served as a stark reminder of the confined space, trapping her in the predator's den. 

He stopped just in front of her, his figure towering over her like a specter in the moonlight. His voice, soft yet laden with an undercurrent of warning, sent shivers down YN's spine.

Every fiber of her being screamed for escape as she stood pinned against the barrier, her senses heightened to the looming threat that loomed before her.

Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a desperate plea for escape, as she stood frozen in the shadow of his presence. The weight of his touch pressed against her, a tangible reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the forest.

"These are my woods,” he leaned in, whispering close to her ears.

YN's voice trembled as she whispered, her words echoing in the stillness of the night. "Y-your woods?" she repeated, her disbelief palpable in the quiver of her tone.

The man's response sent a chill down her spine, his voice dripping with possessiveness and entitlement. "Yes, dear, my woods," he murmured, his words a chilling reminder of the power he held over the domain in which they stood. "This place belongs to me, and anyone who wanders in is fair game for me to play with."

YN's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss. The realization dawned on her with a sickening clarity: she was at the mercy of a predator, a wolf among sheep, lurking in the darkness of the forest.

In that moment, fear and defiance warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. 

"Would you like to know my name, darling?" His voice was a sinister whisper, laden with promises of power and submission. "I shall warn you, however, that once you say it, you will become subservient to my every whim and bound to serve me."

Her heart hammered against her chest as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud. YN's mind raced with uncertainty, torn between the allure of knowledge and the fear of what it might entail.

As he stepped back, giving her space to consider his offer, YN felt the weight of his gaze bearing down upon her. His challenge hung in the air like a dare, tempting her to take the plunge into the unknown.

"Are you brave enough to take on the challenge?" His words echoed in the stillness of the night, a test of her courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity coursing through her veins, YN summoned her courage and faced the man with the glowing red eyes. Despite the warning echoing in her mind, she couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, the tantalizing allure of discovering his name.

"I... I want to… know your name," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

With a sly smile curling his lips, the man leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "My name is Lee Minho, but for a sweet thing like you, you can call me Minho," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine.

As the revelation of Minho's name hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, YN felt a momentary lull in the tension that gripped the forest. The weight of his identity settled upon her like a heavy cloak, its implications stretching far beyond the confines of the haunted woods.

In the stillness of the night, Minho regarded her with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. Yet, amidst the shadows that danced around them, a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

"And what, may I ask, is your name, my dear?" Minho's voice carried a hint of amusement, his words tinged with a sense of intrigue.

YN hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. Yet, in the face of the unknown, she summoned her courage and met his gaze with determination.

"My name is YN," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

As the sound of her name echoed in the darkness, YN felt a sense of empowerment wash over her, a reminder of her own agency amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

In that moment, she knew that she had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. YN found herself inexplicably drawn to Minho, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. There was something about him that transcended the darkness surrounding him, something that spoke to the depths of her soul.

As she stood in his shadow, YN felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him in another life, in another time. His eyes held secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled, and despite the danger that lurked within their depths, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

With each moment that passed, the fear that once gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a curious fascination that defied reason. There was an allure to Lee Minho, a darkness tempered by a glimmer of something more, something that called out to her in the depths of the night.

In his presence, YN felt a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And as she stood on the precipice of the unknown, she knew that her fate was intertwined with his, bound by the threads of destiny that wove their way through the tapestry of their lives.

As YN's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she summoned the courage to voice the question that weighed heavily on her mind. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her words echoing in the stillness of the night, tinged with uncertainty.

Minho regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his gaze piercing through the shadows that enveloped them. There was a depth to his eyes, a wellspring of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

"My dear YN," he began, his voice a melodic whisper that danced on the edge of the wind, "I am bound by the laws of this realm, as are you. What happens next is a journey that we must embark upon together, guided by the currents of fate."

His words held a cryptic resonance, a promise of truths yet to be revealed. YN felt a shiver run down her spine, the weight of his words settling upon her like a heavy cloak.

"In the heart of these woods, we will confront the shadows that linger within our souls," Minho continued, his voice a solemn declaration of intent. "But fear not, for I will be your guide, your protector, and your companion on this journey through the darkness."

As he spoke, YN's gaze lingered on Minho, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed something unsettling: his elongated canines, gleaming in the moonlight, betrayed his true nature—he was a vampire.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend the truth before her.

Finally, YN found her voice, her words trembling with uncertainty. "What... what are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes never leaving his.

Minho's smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs in the moonlight. "I am what you fear most, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down YN's spine.

Fear and fascination warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. As Minho's gaze bore into YN's, his voice, smooth and velvety, pierced the silence like a dagger.

"Shall we have dinner?" he asked, his words laced with a subtle invitation that sent a chill down YN's spine.

Minho's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in the silence that enveloped them. YN's heart raced as she grappled with the surrealness of the moment, the reality of dining with a vampire sinking in like a heavy stone.

The invitation, so innocently posed yet laden with sinister undertones, sent a shiver down YN's spine. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to flee from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a trembling breath, YN met Lee Minho's gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I suppose so," she replied, her words tinged with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest.

And as they ventured deeper into the heart of his cabin, YN knew that the dinner they shared would be more than just a meal—it would be a dance of shadows and light, a journey into the depths of the unknown, where danger and desire intertwined in a delicate balance.

As they reached the dinning room lit in the soft glow of moonlight and a couple candles, Minho gestured towards a rustic wooden table set with an array of fruits and delicacies. "Please, have a seat," he said, his tone inviting yet tinged with an air of mystery.

YN hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand questions and uncertainties. But something about Minho's demeanor reassured her, drawing her closer to the table with a sense of cautious curiosity.

As they sat at the rustic wooden table, YN couldn't shake the sense of surrealness that hung in the air like a thick fog. Minho's presence, though captivating, sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

Minho poured a glass of deep red wine, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Please, indulge yourself," he said, offering the glass to YN with a small, enigmatic smile.

YN hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the glass, before finally accepting it with a nervous nod of thanks. As she took a sip, the rich, velvety taste flooded her senses, warming her from the inside out.

"So, YN," Minho began, his voice low and melodic, "tell me more about yourself. What secrets do you carry in that beautiful mind of yours?"

YN's heart raced as she searched for words, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and fascination. "I... I'm just a girl, really," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

As YN sat there, she couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than prey in the presence of a predator. His gaze, though captivating, held an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, a reminder of the darkness that lurked behind his charming facade.

Minho's eyes danced with amusement as he listened to YN's hesitant words, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Just a girl, you say?" he mused, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I find that hard to believe."

YN's heart raced as she met his gaze, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his eyes devouring her with a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they sat and dined in the flickering light of the moon, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a mere mortal in the presence of a creature far beyond her understanding. And as Minho's gaze lingered on her, she knew that she was merely a pawn in a game of shadows and light, a game where the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined.

Minho got up at some point and walked closer, closing  the distance between them, YN's heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the heat of his body leaning over hers. Trapped between him and the chair, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity.

With a gentle touch, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek skin like a whisper of silk. YN's breath hitched at the contact, her senses ablaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Shh, my dear," Minho murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. "There's no need to be afraid."

As Minho's breath caressed YN's neck, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her body. His words, a whispered caress against her skin, sent a thrill of fear and excitement dancing along her spine.

“You smell viciously delicious," Minho murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine. "Makes me hot."

YN's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a tangled web of fear and desire.

"Wh-what do you mean?" YN stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Minho's eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through YN's veins. "It means," he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation, "that you are unlike anything I've ever encountered before, you are special."

YN's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Wait.. what?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minho's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light. "I'm simply showing you the truth, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down YN's spine. "The truth of who you really are… mine… my mate”

The air crackled with tension as YN felt the heat of his gaze upon her, his proximity igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. She could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, each syllable laden with a hunger that sent her heart racing.

In that moment, YN's senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of danger and desire that surrounded her. His words, though filled with a darkness she could scarcely comprehend, held a seductive power that she found herself unable to resist.

As Minho's tongue traced a soft line along YN's neck, a tremor of sensation rippled through her body, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. His touch, though gentle, ignited a firestorm of desire within her, awakening a primal instinct she never knew existed.

YN's breath caught in her throat as Minho's lips kissing a sweet spot near her ear, his kiss sending waves of heat cascading through her. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the night and the enigmatic figure who held her captive with his touch.

"Your skin," he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the night air, "it sings to me. A melody of temptation and longing."

YN's pulse quickening with each word that fell from his lips. She felt herself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in a world where desire and danger danced in a tantalizing embrace.

"In the darkness," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "we are free. Free to explore the depths of our desires, to succumb to the pull of the night."

With a graceful step backward, Minho gently took YN's hand, his touch sending a surge of electricity coursing through her veins. In the dim light of his cabin, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly allure, drawing her deeper into the shadows.

"Come," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the night, "there is much to discover.".

With a silent nod, YN followed Minho into the darkness, her heart ablaze with the promise of adventure and discovery. For in the depths through the walls, she would find the truest expression of herself, and the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of her soul.

Minho's touch was gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors, each twist and turn a step deeper into the heart of the unknown.

And as they reached his room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, YN felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins. 

As she felt his grip tighten around her waist, YN's eyes widened, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and desire. The air crackled with tension as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his own.

As Minho's hand trailed from her side to her nape, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that this kiss was going to be different, that it was going to be dangerous. And as his lips met hers in a slow burn kiss, she felt his fangs brush against her lower plump lip.

She knew that she should pull away, that she should resist the temptation that Minho offered. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, she tasted the danger and the passion that he offered. She knew that this was a kiss that could destroy her, that could leave her broken and shattered. 

And as the kiss finally ended, she knew that she was lost. Lost in the passion and the danger that Minho offered, lost in a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. But she didn't care. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she knew that she would never be the same again.

As Minho's hand slid down to her back, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. And as his other hand played with the bare skin on her waist, she felt a warmth spreading through her body that she had never felt before.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, she felt her heart racing with anticipation. As his lips brushed against her neck, she felt a surge of desire wash over her. 

"Are you going to bite me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lee Minho's eyes held a glimmer of amusement, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not unless you want me to," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against her skin.

With a trembling breath, YN met Minho's gaze with unwavering resolve, her heart ablaze with the thrill of the unknown. 

As Minho's lips brushed against her skin, YN's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing.

"I want to taste you fully," His voice was a soft murmur against her ear, his words sending a shiver down her spine, "before dragging my teeth on your beautiful neck and drinking your blood… marking you as mine"

As Minho slowly undressed her, YN felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. She slowly undressed him in return, she felt a sense of power and control wash over her. She knew that she had him in her grasp too, that she could make him do anything she wanted. 

As YN's naked body glowed under the moonlight, Minho couldn't help but let out an animalistic sound, like a predator who had found its prey. He was consumed with desire for her, and he kissed her with a passion and need that left her breathless.

YN surrendered to Minho completely, knowing that she was his to do with as he pleased. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve and crevice, and she moaned with pleasure as he took her to new heights of ecstasy.

As Minho moved YN's body slowly towards his king-sized bed, she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that she was completely at his mercy, and she surrendered to him willingly.

He leaned her down onto her back, and as he kissed down her chest, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. He tasted her breasts, making her let out soft moans of pleasure, and she arched her back in response.

Minho's actions were possessive and dominant, and they sent a thrill of excitement through YN's body. She knew that she was completely under his control, and she loved every moment of it.

He whispered in her ear, "You belong to me, and only me. I'll never let anyone else touch you like this."

YN shivered with pleasure at his words, feeling a sense of safety and security in his possessiveness. She knew that he would always protect her, no matter what.

As YN laid on Minho's bed, her body aching with desire, he continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. He moved down her chest, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

YN moaned softly, arching her back and offering herself up to him completely. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

Minho continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, stopping only to tease her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving to her center, where he began to explore her with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

YN moaned louder, her body writhing with pleasure as Minho continued to pleasure her in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she reached the heights of ecstasy, she knew that she was his, completely and utterly, forever.

As Minho continued to kiss and lick his way up to YN's body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance and ownership over her. 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "No one else can ever have you like this. You're my little plaything.”

YN moaned in response, her body trembling with desire as Minho continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, so owned.

As Minho locked YN in between his arms, he looked deeply into her eyes and asked her, "Whose are you?"

YN whimpered in response, feeling a sense of pleasure and submission at his possessive words. She looked up at him with desire-filled eyes and replied, "I'm yours, all yours. I belong to you completely."

Minho smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew that he had complete control over her, and that she would do anything he asked of her.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're mine now, and I'm going to make you feel so good."

And with that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and passionately as they lost themselves in a world of pleasure and desire.

As Minho continued to kiss YN deeply, he let his hand travel down between her legs to find it wet. He chuckled as he felt how wet she already was, his fingers tracing up and down on her lower region.

"Already so wet for me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with desire.

YN whimpered and moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

As YN reached down for Minho's manhood, she couldn't help but gasp at how big and hard it felt in her hand. She stroked it slowly, feeling his body tense up with pleasure as he let out a groan.

YN smirked, feeling a sense of power and control as she continued to pleasure him with her hand. She knew that she was driving him wild with desire, and that he would do anything to make her feel good in return.

As YN lined up Minho's member above her wet folds, she bridged closer to him with her other hand on his back. He took the cue and slammed himself into her without warning or waiting for her to adjust, his lips whispering profanities to her.

"Too big for my new plaything, huh?" he taunted. "Wasn't ready for it, baby girl?" He promised her that his fangs would break into her skin later, making her cry out in fear and pleasure.

Her nails found their way to his back, scratching him as he pounded into her with increasing force. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy.

And as Minho continued to take her to new heights of pleasure and pain, YN surrendered completely to him, knowing that she was his forever, body and soul.

YN felt herself getting closer to orgasm, Minho sensed it and brought his face near her neck, kissing and licking it. Her walls clenched around him, and in the right moment, he bit her neck, his canines deep, drawing out her blood, savoring the taste of her blood and the pleasure that he was giving her.

She let out a deliciously moan alongside a groan of pain, the sensation of the pain and her orgasm taking her higher than the things she used with her friends earlier. 

Minho continued jamming into YN's feminine parts, he slammed harder and harder until he finally came, painting her walls white with his release.

YN cried out in pleasure as she felt him release inside her, her body trembling with the intensity of their passion. She knew that she had given herself completely to Minho, and that he had taken her to new heights of pleasure that she had never even dreamed of before.

“You taste so good, baby girl," he said, lapping his tongue over the fresh bite. YN felt completely under his spell, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered except for the two of them and the love that they shared.

As they lathere, spent and breathless, YN felt a chill creeping into her bones, sending a shiver down her spine. Panic flickered in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Minho's arms wrapped around her, a reassuring presence in the darkness. "It will be quickly," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the turmoil that surrounded them.

Her heart pounding, YN's eyes widened in disbelief. "Quick what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with anger and fear, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Your transformation," Lee Minho stated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You. Are. Mine. Now."

YN's throat tightened at his words, the weight of their implications settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, her mind reeling with the enormity of what lay ahead.

In that moment, YN knew that she stood at the precipice of a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her destiny. With a trembling nod, she silently acknowledged the truth of his words, bracing herself for the darkness that awaited her on the other side.

to be continued?

[hunkpossession0]

Saw these two hunks chilling on our mountain trip, and me and my friend were eager to steal their bodies. The plan was simple: wait until they were alone, use the enchanted stones we found last summer, and swap our souls with theirs. I ended up in the body of the long-haired one, and my friend took over the other.

Feeling the weight of his muscles, the power in his limbs, was exhilarating. My long hair swayed in the breeze, and I couldn't help but admire my reflection in the nearby stream. My friend was having a similar moment, flexing and laughing with newfound joy.

"Guess we should head back to camp," I said, my voice now deep and rich. We walked back, exploring the sensations, the way our new bodies moved. Every step felt different, more grounded, more alive.

As night fell, we set up a small fire. The flames cast shadows that danced across our chiseled features. My friend, in his new body, couldn't stop touching his biceps, marveling at the strength.

"Let's see what else these bodies can do," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I felt a rush of excitement, a thrill at the possibilities.

We moved closer, exploring each other's new forms. His hands ran down my back, tracing the contours of muscle. I reciprocated, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the tautness of his abs.

"I've never felt anything like this," I whispered, leaning in. Our bodies were drawn to each other, an irresistible force pulling us together.

We spent the night discovering every inch, every sensation heightened by the unfamiliarity of our new forms. It was as if we were learning to be human all over again, but this time, with a layer of intense attraction we hadn't anticipated.

By morning, we lay exhausted but satisfied, tangled in each other's arms. The mountain air felt different, clearer, as if we had become a part of it. The hunks' bodies were ours now, and with them, a new understanding of who we could be.

"I guess we're stuck like this," my friend said, a hint of amusement in his voice. I looked at him, feeling a deep connection, something that went beyond just the physical.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Body 1: The Long-Haired Hunk (Me)

Standing tall at 6'3", this body exudes an effortless blend of strength and grace. The long, flowing hair cascades down to broad shoulders, catching the light with a hint of natural wave. His piercing blue eyes are framed by strong, angular features—a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones that give him a rugged yet refined look.

His muscular build is evident with every movement. Defined pecs, sculpted abs, and powerful arms showcase years of dedication to fitness. His skin is sun-kissed, hinting at a life spent outdoors, and there's a confident swagger in his stride. Tattoos snake along his right arm, adding an edge to his otherwise classic good looks. This body is a perfect blend of warrior and model, turning heads effortlessly.

Body 2: The Short-Haired Hunk (My Friend)

Even more imposing, this body stands at 6'5" with a massively muscular build that demands attention. His short, dark hair is stylishly tousled, revealing a pair of intense, hazel eyes that seem to see right through you. His face is equally handsome, with a strong nose and a slightly cleft chin giving him a distinguished air.

His physique is the epitome of power, with thick, bulging biceps, a broad, barrel-like chest, and legs like tree trunks. Every muscle is defined and exaggerated, creating a look that borders on the heroic. His skin is a warm olive tone, suggesting a heritage of sun-soaked climates, and he carries himself with a natural, easy confidence.

A few faint scars on his knuckles and forearms hint at an adventurous past, adding an element of intrigue. This body radiates a dynamic energy, as if always ready for the next challenge, and his infectious smile suggests he's more than willing to take it on with you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

How would the suitors reaction be when their wife ( Crewle daughter) is pregnant with triplets? And meeting the kids after birth?

With Ruggie, Jack, Lions, Malleus, Silver, Trey, Vil and Ace

Triplets Are Here | Yandere Twisted Wonderland Crewel Daughter

Ruggie Bucci

“What can I say I’m a beast in bed!” 

He’s not going to act like it even could have been inherited to you

He’s got a whole new air of confidence

Not only does he have the woman of his dreams 

But he knocked her up times three

Hopefully that will squash anyone else’s delusions about being with you

Either way he doesn’t mind getting rid of them the old fashioned way

“Awww they look like we had babies! Oh wait-”

“Just focus on feeding that one.”

“Yes Mama!” 

Jack Howl

“...!”

“Jack?”

“!!!!”

“Jack?!”

“!!!!”

“If you faint now, I won’t catch you!”

This is the best news 

A strong litter, a perfect mate

He’s protecting his already larger than average pack

“Back away or I will not hesitate to end your life. I’ve got four lives to protect now.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Geez…three?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m just surprised you took me so well.”

He has mixed feelings about it

Especially when he’s catering to you as your belly swells to an almost unbelievable size

And you groan in pain

“Why don’t the brats just get here. I hate seeing you in pain.”

He’s heard of other lions so jealous they kill their kin

But as he holds the little bundles he can’t begin to fathom it

He might just cry

Malleus Draconia

“If you and I were not made for each other, theres noway this could be.”

He’s ecstatic 

But the entirety of Briar Valley and the world around you must be made to cater to you

Devoted to your comfort and health above all else 

he even struggles to let Crewel see you

“Nothing will ever hurt my loves. My babes. My wive. I’d curse the world for you.”

Genocide Murder spree ensues should there be any pain or assassination attempts

No one’s so much as flicking you 

He’d sooner rend them to ash

Silver

“Three…at the same time…?”

“Yes so we’ll have to get three times the baby equipment and–Silver?”

“Three…in…you?”

He’s barely processing any of it 

Even when he’s practically carrying the four of you as you waddle places

“Our babies…”

“Aren’t they precious they have your eyes!”

“M-m-my eyes-? Agh-!”

“Its okay babe this is a good time to cry.”

“H-how did Dad do it!? I-I’m never letting any of you leave me!”

Any protective traits are amplified even higher

And if there was ever a time he refused to kill anyone in his pursuit for love

That has long since past

Trey Clover 

“Well I did always say I wanted a big family!”

He’s thrilled to see your tummy rounding with his children

All while you incessantly demand for his sweets and cooking

And he’s jumping to his tooth brush after a rough morning 

But its all made even better when they arrive

Little mixes of his love and himself 

“They’ll have the cutest little teeth!”

He definitely saves them when they get older

But he’s the perfect papa

Poisoned sweets and all

Vil Schoenheit

“We’ll be parents…is that registering?”

“Barely. When we agreed to marry I doubted ever moving further than that.”

“Does it make you unhappy?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He’s brimming with anxiety 

Worry eating away as he contemplates his own jealousy and the excitement of having a  child

It doesn’t become much easier when the triplets arrive

He despises the paparazzi 

So much so he’s willing to set his rabid fans on them

Purge them of every photo of his adorable babes

He’s the only one who gets the honor

A dazzling photo of your delivery is only for his eyes

Doxx the peeping toms

“They’re all mine. I’m willing to lose everything for them.”

Ace Trappola

“Dang! I really am amazing–Ow! Joking, joking.”

He couldn’t be happier

What better way to prove his love ownership of the sexiest woman alive if it weren’t for the giant round belly you had

And soon to be three little rascals that are further testaments of his status

He’ll whine about things 

Probably more than you 

But in the end he’s glowing with pride as you look down at your freshly born babies

“Ehehe they can’t deny that I may have children for days but I’ve got game.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Welcome Back.

From the moment those tall iron gates— elegant and ebony—swing open and you pass through them, a dizzying nostalgia floods into you. Here is the line that divided the rest of the world from the campus guard behind its barrier. The air is thick with magic, tasting sweet as you sip it.

This feeling, you think, head buzzing from the thrill, can be matched by nothing else.

You’re in a crowd, allowing yourself to be swept up by it and carried along its current. Men in casual wear, men in formal suits, men in outlandish and odd attire. All of you, set on the same path down Main Street.

Seven statues stand erect, monuments to seven great historical figures.

The Queen of Hearts, her rounded proportions blossoming from a patch of roses. She holds up part of her skirt with one hand and a heart-topped wand in the other. Her peaceful expression betrays the sternness with which she commands.

The King of Beasts, perched upon a rock that slants up. The lion has persisted and finally scaled the peak. He now looks skyward, his cunning visage locked to and even grander future.

The Sea Witch, tentacles curling amid carved waves. She casually leans back, unfurling a contract in one hand. Sign, and she will bless you with her benevolence.

The Sorcerer of the Sands, appearing in a cloud of sand. He stands, thin and wiry, with his serpent scepter and a hand on his hip. His face is contemplative, mindfully considering visitors.

The Beautiful Queen, svelte and lovely as she steps forth from the smoke, A poisoned apple is suspended from her fingers. She is as tempting as she is tenacious.

The Lord of the Underworld, grinning amid broiling flames. His hands are both lifted, a ball of fire conjured on one fingertip. Playful as he is, the man is diligent in his work.

The Thorn Witch, her horns and tattered robes right at home in the briar. She is poised and elegant, fingers curled at her chest. Truly noble in every way.

You lower your head to them in deference as you pass.

The crowd funnels into a doorway, then into a dimly lit room. It’s circular in design, with several windows, the curtains drawn over them, and floating coffins ringing the outskirts. With the day banished, the only source of light were the apocalyptic green flames emitting from high sconces.

An elaborate crystal chandelier and many pearl lines hang over their heads. They shift in and out of the void, sometimes catching and shining in the glow of the flames.

In the center is a large mirror upon an elevated platform. The frame, an intricate braid. Its surface, dull and dark—as if coated in a layer of coal dust.

This, too, you remember vividly.

But not the small figure standing become the mirror.

They are fitted in a mourning gown of blacks and deep blues. Feathers adorn their chest, scattered iridescent fragments woven into their skirt. A long wispy veil obscures their face—but you swear you can hear an eerie, faint giggle come from behind the gathered fabric.

They lift their hands, beckoning you to draw nearer. You are compelled to obey, your feet drifting.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all,” they announce cheerily.

Your scalp tingles. And they sound so close too. Like a childhood lullaby, a musical box wound up.

“Welcome back to our Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to see you again. How nostalgic.”

Rose gold comes to mind, and you're unsure of why that is. It comes with a familiar feeling--of rediscovering a lost part of yourself, of rose-tinted glasses slipping on and clouding one's vision, of the wonderfulness of meeting an old friend. The color of dawn beckoning a new day.

Who is…?

They reach for their veil and carefully raise it.

Your heart leaps. Deja vu.

A demure smile. Honey-colored eyes staring straight into your soul. Wonder and curiosity radiating off of her.

You suddenly know who it is.

“We’ve missed you, dear alumni.”

[girlrotterr]

But I'm a Lesbian! pt.5

ellie x abby x dina x fem!reader a/n: omgg!! I am back angels!! This chapter took me wayy longer than it should have...sorry my lovelies!! (- ‸ - )

→ Part one! → Part two! → Part three! → Part four! → Part six!

The darkness enveloped the four of you as you crept towards the main building, where the director's office was. Abby, taking the lead, signaled for the rest of you to follow. 

"Hurry your ass over here," Dina whispered harshly as she motioned for Ellie to pick up the pace.

Ellie, walking slower than the rest due to the pain in her ass, gritted her teeth in frustration. "I'm fucking trying!" she snapped back at Dina in a hushed tone. 

The four of you reached the window of the director's office. The dim moonlight illuminated the glass pane, casting shadows across the room. Abby motioned for everyone to crouch down, keeping out of sight. The building was eerily quiet, with only the faint sound of crickets chirping in the distance.

"Alright," she whispered, "We need to be quick and quiet. Once we're inside, find our stuff and…maybee grab anything else that looks fun."

Dina nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I’ve been eyeing this statue the director has.." she whispered back, her heart pumping with thrill. 

Ellie's brows furrowed in concern. "We can't just steal," she protested, "If we get caught, we'll be in even bigger-."

Dina let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes. "Booo!" she exclaimed, throwing her thumbs down in disappointment.

Abby joined in, nudging Ellie gently. "Come on, El's," she urged. "One little souvenir won't hurt."

"Exactly," you chimed in, "If you’re going to risk it all to get those damn finger condoms, you might as well make it worth a while."

Ellie sighed, feeling outnumbered, “I hate it here.” 

Abby turned back to the window, her fingers reaching out to test the latch. With a silent click, the window slid open. She gestured for everyone to follow her lead as she slipped inside, her movements swift.

One by one, you each climbed through the window, careful not to make a sound. 

With a grunt, Ellie retrieved her lighter, flicking it on to provide more light. The warm glow spread across the room. 

As the light revealed the drawer, you all realized that it was now  locked. 

"Aw, shit," Ellie grumbled, scratching her head.

Dina crouched down to get a closer look, examining the lock. "Fuck, she must have put this on after she caught us," she muttered, her brows furrowed.

"It's a big-ass lock too," Abby remarked, tapping the metal with her knuckles.

"I think I can lockpick it," Dina said, her eyes lighting up.

You quickly rummaged through your hair and pulled out a bobby pin. "Here," you say, handing it to Dina.

"Ellie, give me more light," Dina instructed,  yanking Ellie's arm.

Ellie adjusted her position to shine the light more directly on the drawer. The beam of light flickered across the metal surface. With more light, Dina carefully inserted the bobby pin into the lock.

As Dina focused on unlocking the drawer, Abby's curiosity led her to explore the office. Her eyes landing on a nude statue nestled in the corner.

Abby's face lit up with excitement as she approached it. It was crafted from smooth, white marble, capturing feminine beauty in detail. The woman depicted had graceful curves, her pose seductive.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Abby murmured as she reached out to touch the cool surface of the statue. With a grunt, she lifted it from its place and carried it over to where the rest of you were gathered.

Ellie's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she watched Abby's. "What the fuck are you doing?" she questioned.

Abby set the statue down in front of the group with a grin. "Woaahh, No." Dina exclaimed, "I already called dibs on it.”

"But I found it, soo it's mine," Abby argued, crossing her arms.

Dina's eyes narrowed,. "But I fucking called dibs first! That means it's mine."

Ellie groaned. "Can we get our shit back first-” 

"El’s, you have no pussy to run to," Dina snapped, “Your finger bullshit can wait!”

Click-clack click-clack.

The sudden click of heels echoed, sending a jolt of panic through the four of you. Abby scrambled to pick up the statue, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to place it back in its original spot. Meanwhile, Dina, Ellie, and you hurriedly ducked behind the desk, your heartbeats pounding in your ears.

"Hurry up, Abs!" You whispered urgently, your eyes darting nervously towards the approaching sound of footsteps.

With a fumbling motion, Abby attempted to set the statue down quietly, but her nerves got the best of her, and it slipped from her grasp, crashing onto the floor with a loud thud. The noise echoed in the silent room, causing all four of you to freeze in fear.

"Ohhh fuckk…" Abby groaned under her breath, her eyes widening. 

The sound of approaching footsteps quickened, the clicking of heels grew louder and more urgent. 

Abby's heart raced as she frantically tried to pick up the fallen statue, her hands trembling with nervousness. But her efforts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the nurse standing at the doorway, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Anderson?" the nurse asked, her eyebrows furrowing. 

Abby's mind raced, "Oh, uh, hey," she stammered, attempting to act nonchalant but failing miserably.

The nurse's gaze shifted from Abby to the statue on the floor, her confusion deepening. "What're you doing?" she questioned, stepping closer to get a better look.

Abby's heart pounded in her chest as she desperately tried to think of a convincing response. "Um, I-I was just looking...for..uh.." she trailed off.

The nurse made a move to enter the room, but Abby quickly stepped in her way, blocking her path. "Um, you! Yeah, I-I was looking for.. uh you," she blurted out, her words coming out in a rushed and jumbled mess.

The nurse raised an eyebrow at Abby's explanation. "You were looking for me... in the director's office?" Her tone suspicious. 

Abby felt a bead of sweat form on her brow as she realized the nurse wasn't buying her story. "Fuck um..." she muttered under her breath.

The nurse attempted to step past Abby once more, but Abby instinctively moved to block her again. "What is going on with you?"

Abby's mind raced as she struggled to come up with a response. "Nothing, it's nothing," she insisted, her voice tinged with nervousness. "Just... Can you go?"

The nurse's patience was thin, "What the fuck are you hiding?!" she demanded. 

A sudden sneeze echoed through the room, the nurse's suspicion escalated to a new level. Her eyes narrowed with accusation. "Are you screwing someone!?" she snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Abby's heart raced but before she could respond, the nurse pushed past her, flicking on the light switch. "No, no, no!" Abby protested, reaching out in an attempt to stop her.

But it was too late. The nurse stood at the desk, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of the three of you hidden behind it.

Dina's nervous wave only seemed to intensify the nurse's shock. She took a step back, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You were screwing THREE OF THEM!?!" she exclaimed.

The three of you scrambled to your feet, "I would fucking never.”  Ellie snapped , rubbing her sore ass from sitting on the floor for so long. 

Abby attempted to grab the nurse's hand,. "It's not what you think-"

But the nurse shook off Abby's grasp. She quickly made her way to the doorway, trying to exit the room, but Abby cut her off, still trying to reason with her. "Please, just let me explain-"

"I'm reporting all of you!" the nurse declared firmly.

"Fuck, you can't-" Abby began, but her words were cut off by a sudden thud. The nurse's grip on the doorframe loosened, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. 

"Oh my fucking god!" Ellie jolted, her eyes wide with alarm.

You swung a heavy book at the nurse, hitting her in the head. The three girls turned to look at you, their expressions shocked.

"What?!" you exclaimed defensively. "She was going to snitch!"

"Shit!" Abby cursed, dropping to her knees beside the unconscious nurse.

"We have to hide her!" Dina urged, scanning the room for a suitable hiding spot.

Ellie glanced at the clock, her heart racing with anxiety. "Guys, we need to fucking hurry! The director will do her checkup rounds soon!"

"Fuck!" Abby grumbled, frustration in her tone. "Okay, change of plans.” 

The three of you turned to look at Abby, "Me and Dina will hide the nurse and get our belongings," she instructed. She then turned to Ellie and you. “You two will have to start the fire."

"You're seriously pairing me up with sore booty?!" you groaned.

[hoernypie]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Spring affair ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tags: oral (f giving + m receiving)

wc: 990

The cool spring breeze gently swept through the bustling corridors of Jujutsu High, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming cherry blossoms. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground as I walked alongside Satoru Gojo, my heart skipping a beat with each step. The thrill of the supernatural battles we'd faced together was evident in the air, but there was something more—a subtle, unspoken tension that had been building between us.

Satoru Gojo, a fellow teacher and close friend since my own days as a student, had always been someone I admired for his unparalleled strength and enigmatic charm. However, today, as we strolled through the school grounds, something was different. His usual laid-back demeanor had given way to a smoldering gaze that sent shivers down my spine. "Let's grab a drink after school," he suggested, a sly smile playing on his lips. His tone was casual, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

As he spoke, my emotions were a whirlwind—a mix of excitement and nervousness. What did he have in mind for our evening together? I was unsure of what the night would bring, but I knew it would be an experience I'd never forget.

Agreeing to Gojo's proposal, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation mixed with a hint of trepidation. As I followed Gojo to his place, the tension grew tauter with each step, my mind racing with what he had in store for me. His apartment was a stark contrast to the chaotic school, a serene sanctuary of modern minimalism with the occasional touch of the arcane. He led me to the living room, dimly lit by the lamp. He turned to face me, his eyes blazing with a fierce hunger that mirrored the one building within me. Without a word, he unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes never left mine as he unzipped his pants, revealing the prominent bulge that strained against the fabric of his boxers. "Get on my knees," he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

My legs trembled as I obeyed, the cool hardwood floor a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from his body. He stepped closer, and I could see the outline of his erection, thick and demanding. I reached out tentatively, my trembling hands brushing against his thighs as I took hold of the waistband of his boxers. With a swift motion, I pulled them down, freeing his impressive length. It sprang forth, standing tall and proud, and I couldn't help but gasp at the sight of it. "Beg for it," he reminded me, his voice now a soft growl. "I want to hear you say it." My cheeks flushed with desire as I leaned in, my eyes never leaving his. "Please, Satoru," I whispered, my voice thick with need. "Let me suck you. I need to taste you." His smile grew wider, and he nodded once, a silent gesture of approval. With trembling hands, I wrapped them around his shaft, feeling the power pulsing within him. My mouth watered as I took the head between my lips, his taste salty and intoxicating. His hands found my hair, gripping it firmly as I began to move my mouth up and down, eager to please him. The sound of his deep, satisfied sighs filled the room, mingling with the wet, suckling noises that grew louder as I lost myself in the act. The power dynamic had shifted, and I was now at his mercy, begging to be used by the man I had once called a friend. The thrill of it all made my heart race, and I knew that this was only the beginning of a dark, erotic journey that would forever change our relationship.

The sensation of his hand in my hair, guiding my movements, sent waves of pleasure crashing through my body. Gojo's grip tightened as I took more of him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the tip before descending further. His hips began to rock gently, setting a rhythm that I eagerly matched, each stroke of my tongue and suck of my lips bringing a guttural groan from his chest. His eyes never left mine, the intensity of his gaze holding me captive as he watched my every move. "Faster," he instructed, his voice strained with desire, and I eagerly complied, my pace quickening. His fingers twisted in my hair, pulling harder, and I gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, but the muffled sound only seemed to spur him on. I could feel his arousal building, his cock swelling and throbbing against my tongue, and I knew that soon he would be unable to hold back. The power of his impending climax was a heady aphrodisiac, and I found myself begging for more, desperate to be the one to bring him to the brink and over.

My cheeks hollowed with each suck, my throat muscles working overtime to accommodate his size, and I felt a rush of adrenaline as he grew closer to release. His breaths grew ragged, his eyes half-lidded, and his grip on my hair tightened until I thought that I might pass out from the sheer pleasure of it all. Then, with a final, deep thrust, he came, his warmth flooding my mouth as he let out a roar of pleasure that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment. I swallowed, eager not to miss a drop, and felt his body slacken with satisfaction. As I pulled away, his eyes snapped open, a look of pure dominance and possession in his gaze that sent a shiver down my spine. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Now, let's see how well you can clean up." He released my hair, and I knelt before him, a willing servant to his desires, ready for whatever he had in store next.

[shiningstarwrites]

"Unexpected Comfort"

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

The Avengers Tower was bustling with activity as Natasha Romanoff made her way through the common area. She had just finished a rigorous training session and was looking forward to a quiet evening with a good book and maybe a glass of wine. As she passed by the lounge area, she noticed you sitting there, engrossed in a tablet, a serene expression on your face.

Curiosity piqued, Natasha couldn't help but approach silently, intrigued by what could be capturing your attention so completely. As she neared, you looked up, a slight smile gracing your lips upon seeing her.

"Hey, Natasha," you greeted warmly, setting the tablet aside.

"Hey," Natasha replied with a soft smile of her own. "What's got you so absorbed?"

You chuckled lightly. "Just some research for our next mission. Figured I could use a break though."

Natasha nodded, understanding the need for a mental recharge. "Good idea. Anything interesting?"

You shrugged playfully. "Depends on your definition of interesting. Mostly background checks and data analysis."

Natasha chuckled, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. "Sounds thrilling," she teased lightly, taking a seat beside you.

"It has its moments," you agreed, appreciating her easy camaraderie.

Silence settled between you, comfortable and easy. Natasha leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. You glanced at her, admiring the effortless grace with which she carried herself, even in casual moments like these.

"Long day?" you asked gently, noticing a hint of weariness in her eyes despite her composed demeanor.

Natasha sighed softly, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Yeah, training was intense today. But it's nothing I can't handle."

You nodded understandingly. "You always push yourself hard."

"It's what I do," Natasha replied with a faint smile. "Keeps me sharp."

There was a pause as you considered her words. Natasha's dedication and resilience were qualities you admired greatly, but you also knew that behind the Black Widow's facade was someone who carried burdens few could comprehend.

"You know, it's okay to take a break sometimes," you offered softly, meeting her gaze with sincerity.

Natasha's expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. "Thanks."

You smiled gently. "Anytime."

As the evening wore on, the two of you found yourselves sharing stories and laughter, the weight of the day gradually easing off Natasha's shoulders. It surprised you how easy it was to talk to her, how she seemed to appreciate your company just as much as you appreciated hers.

Eventually, the conversation lulled, and Natasha glanced at you with a hint of mischief. "So, what's the most surprising thing you've learned about me today?"

You chuckled, pretending to ponder seriously. "That you have a soft spot for cats?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't."

You laughed outright at her teasing reply, a sound that made Natasha's heart flutter in a way she hadn't expected. In that moment, she realized just how much she enjoyed being around you, how your presence brought a sense of ease and comfort she rarely allowed herself to experience.

Before either of you knew it, the evening had slipped away into night, the quiet hum of the tower around you a soothing backdrop to your shared moments. As you bid Natasha goodnight and headed to your room, a warmth lingered in your chest – a feeling of unexpected connection and the promise of more moments like these to come.

[fictionlag]

First chapter of "Flowers Bloom at Midnight" on AO3.

The old bell above the door chimed softly as a gust of cold October air swept into the shop, scattering the scent of dried lavender, marigold, and rosemary through the dimly lit room. 

Xie Lian looked up from the potted chrysanthemum he’d been tending, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the cold draft. The shop, small and nestled at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street, was his sanctuary. Though autumn had cast a chilly, quiet spell over the town, turning leaves to crisp golds, rusty reds, and somber browns, the warmth inside his little floral shop was always inviting, like a hidden bloom peeking through the fading season.

It was a modest place, Xie Lian's “Eternal Blossoms,” nestled between a line of brick buildings and just on the edge of an old graveyard that was as famous for its haunting beauty as it was for the stories whispered about it. Gravestones leaned like forgotten memories, mossy and faded, stretching under canopies of oaks that had stood watch for centuries. The locals told stories of the ghost who wandered the graves at night, an old legend that Xie Lian had long since stopped listening to. A harmless tale, he thought, one meant to thrill bored teenagers and make the night walks through the cemetery that much more exciting.

Yet, the graveyard brought him solace. Its peacefulness mirrored his own life here, as he spent day after quiet day trimming roses, bundling marigolds, and arranging bouquets. His only customers were those who sought flowers for the deceased— a simple arrangement of daisies or a soft bundle of forget-me-nots to lay on graves.

A dying breeze rattled the dry leaves that had gathered outside the door, catching his attention. Shadows pooled like ink at the edges of his shop, the early evening already surrendering to night. Xie Lian glanced at the old clock on the wall. He hadn’t had a customer since morning, and closing time was fast approaching.

With a sigh, he moved to the small counter to begin packing away his day’s work, fingers idly tracing over the soft petals of a bouquet of snow-white lilies, their scent fragile and ghostly, like a faint memory. Just as he turned to reach for the broom, the bell rang again.

The sound surprised him. The door creaked open, letting a deeper, richer shadow spill across the wooden floor, and a man stepped inside, carrying with him the scent of damp earth and cold night air. He was tall, draped in a black coat that seemed to merge with the shadows behind him. His hair was black, long and slightly tousled, falling over one shoulder as he paused in the doorway, silver rings glinting on his fingers as he adjusted his coat.

The strangy looked at Xie Lian with a small, almost imperceptible smile—a smile that seemed to hold secrets of a thousand autumns.

“Good evening,” the man’s voice was rich and warm, somehow both inviting and distant, like the low notes of a forgotten song. “I hope I’m not too late.”

Xie Lian quickly recovered himself, giving a slight nod and a shy smile. “Not at all. Welcome… Please, come in.”

The man moved forward, his presence filling the small shop with a magnetic weight. His gaze drifted around, lingering on the vases of autumn blooms and dried bouquets that Xie Lian had so lovingly arranged. There was something otherworldly about the way he moved, as if he were slipping through the spaces between shadows, not quite of this world.

“I’d like a flower,” the stranger said simply, his gaze meeting Xie Lian’s once more, his lips curling up in that same enigmatic smile. “Just one.”

Xie Lian hesitated, looking over his collection. “Any flower in particular?”

“A white one,” the man replied. “Something pure.”

Xie Lian’s gaze drifted to the lilies he’d been arranging just moments ago. He carefully lifted one of the delicate blooms, offering it to the stranger. “A lily, perhaps?”

The man reached out to take it, his fingers brushing against Xie Lian’s in a brief, startlingly cool touch. Xie Lian felt an unexpected thrill at the contact, a shiver that tingled through his fingertips. The man’s hand lingered for a moment, holding the lily with a reverence that bordered on worshipful. His eyes lifted to meet Xie Lian’s again, and for a moment, Xie Lian could almost see something like longing in that silver gaze.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost wistful. He slipped his hand into his coat and produced a single coin, which he pressed into Xie Lian’s hand.

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

But the man merely shook his head, his smile deepening. “Please. I insist.”

Xie Lian looked down at the coin, its surface tarnished yet etched with a faint, elegant pattern that he couldn’t quite place. Before he could say anything more, the man inclined his head slightly.

“Thank you, Xie Lian.”

Xie Lian’s heart stuttered. He hadn’t introduced himself.

The man’s smile took on a secretive edge, and he leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I’ve seen that shop before. I wondered who it belonged to. Your flowers are beautiful.” His gaze swept over the shop, lingering on the lilies, the marigolds, the roses—all the blooms that Xie Lian cared for so meticulously. “I wanted to see them up close.”

There was something haunting in his words, as if he were more familiar with this place than he should be. And yet, there was no malice in his gaze, only a quiet intensity that made Xie Lian’s heart race in a way it hadn’t in years.

“My name is Hua Cheng,” he finally said, his voice like the quiet roll of distant thunder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before Xie Lian could respond, Hua Cheng lifted the lily, nodding in a soft gesture of farewell. He turned, stepping back into the shadow, and the bell above the door gave a final chime as he disappeared into the night.

For a long moment, Xie Lian stood frozen, staring at the spot where Hua Cheng had been. The shop was silent, the warmth of his small sanctuary slowly returning, though it felt somehow altered, as though Hua Cheng had left something behind, something intangible and lingering.

Xie Lian moved to lock the door, his fingers brushing against the silver coin Hua Cheng had left behind. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting the unfamiliar design—an etching of something almost ceremonial, ancient.

He took a steadying breath, shaking off the spell of the encounter. But in the quiet of his shop, with only the whispering petals of his flowers for company, Xie Lian could still feel the touch of cool fingers against his own.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 4: Heart on the Line

A/N: Chapter 4 is here you guys! I think I am going to continue writing two stories and then post them, that way it's easier versus doing the whole day at a time. If you haven't checked out Chapter 3 along with the other chapters they are linked down below. Without further ado. Here’s Chapter 4. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (here)

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Word Count: 4.1K 

Sanji x Y/N, OP x Y/N

 

You notice a bright yellow light from a distance as Luffy wraps his rubber arms around your waist. Your body aches, and all you want is to take off these dirty clothes, take a hot shower, and rest. Suddenly, you hear Luffy's voice.

"Hey, Y/N! I'm gonna throw you in the air and catch you so we can carry you. That okay?"

Barely paying attention, you mutter, "What?"

Luffy, taking that as agreement, grins. "She says yes! Alright!"

"Wait, Luffy!" you exclaim, but it's too late. You're already soaring into the air, screaming and yelling, "Luffy!"

Just as you're bracing for a rough landing, a pair of familiar arms catch you with ease. "Oh, my sweet Y/N," Sanji's voice is smooth and reassuring. "Don't worry, your prince is here to carry you."

You look up, and your eyes meet Sanji's warm gaze. A small blush creeps onto your cheeks as you nuzzle closer to his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Thank you, Sanji," you whisper, laying a tender kiss on his neck.

Sanji's breath hitches slightly at your touch, but he quickly recovers, his voice softening as he speaks. "Anything for you, my love. I’d never let you fall."

You can feel his heart racing against yours, and it brings a smile to your face. "I knew I could count on you," you murmur, your lips brushing against his skin.

Sanji chuckles, his voice low and filled with affection. "Always, Y/N. You're safe with me."

As Sanji carries you, you begin to drift in and out of consciousness. The pain is fading, but exhaustion is catching up with you. You think to yourself that the effects must be wearing off.

Finally, you reach Grove 13, and Shakkys Bar, Sanji gently sets you down. Chopper is already there, carefully tending to your wounds. Sanji is nearby, his worry still evident, but there’s a softer expression on his face now that you’re safe.

The rest of the crew gather around Rayleigh, who is seated at the bar with a thoughtful expression. They’re deep in conversation about the legendary Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.

Luffy, eyes wide with curiosity, asks, "So, Rayleigh, what was Roger like? You were part of his crew, right?"

Rayleigh nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I was. Roger was... quite a man. Charismatic, fearless, and incredibly strong. He had a way of inspiring those around him." 

As the conversation continues, Usopp turns to Robin with a hint of excitement. "Robin, don't you think we should ask Rayleigh more about the One Piece? This is a huge opportunity!"

Before Robin can respond, Luffy’s eyes narrow, and he raises his voice. "No! We’re not asking about the treasure! There’s a reason so many pirates risk their lives for it, and I don’t want to make our adventure boring by digging into that mystery!"

Luffy’s declaration is punctuated with a dramatic flourish. "I DON'T WANT TO GO ON A BORING ADVENTURE LIKE THAT!!!"

Usopp, taken aback by Luffy’s intensity, quickly apologizes. "Sorry, Luffy. I didn’t mean to stir things up."

Rayleigh watches the interaction with a bemused smile and then turns to Luffy. "So, Luffy, do you really think you can conquer the Grand Line?"

Luffy grins, his eyes sparkling with determination. "I’m not really aiming to conquer it. I just want to be the King of the Pirates, which means being the freest person on the ocean."

Rayleigh’s smile widens, and Shakky’s eyes twinkle with admiration. "You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Luffy."

Rayleigh then informs the crew, "I’ll have your ship coated in three days. Until then, you’ll need to avoid any trouble."

With that, the crew decided the best course of action is to split up and draw attention away from Rayleigh’s shop. Shakky hands us each a Vivre Card for safety, ensuring they can reunite with Rayleigh once the coating is complete. She also moves the Thousand Sunny to a safer location.

As we prepare to leave, we bid farewell to Hatchan, Camie, Pappag, and Shakky. They head back into the groves, ready to lay low for the next few days.

“Well, what do we do now?” Usopp asks, glancing around at the group.

Luffy, with his usual enthusiasm, pipes up, “I think we should go to the amusement park!”

You let out a weary sigh. “Fat chance. I’m not going through that again.”

Sanji notices the tremble in your voice and gently takes your hand, bringing it to his face. He places a soft kiss on it, his gaze full of reassurance. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll protect you now. No harm shall come to you.”

You smile at him, feeling a surge of adoration. “Thank you, Sanji. It means a lot.”

As the group heads towards Grove 12, an unexpected bright light flares up, startling everyone. You all look up to see Bartholomew Kuma, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the area.

Zoro narrows his eyes, confused. “What’s he doing here?”

Luffy’s face pales as he recalls the encounter. “Wait, Kuma? Didn’t we fight him before?”

Sanji’s grip on your hand tightens, his concern evident. “Stay close, Y/N. We don’t know what he’s up to.”

Kuma stands still, his gaze sweeping over the crew, and the tension in the air becomes palpable as everyone braces for whatever comes next. 

“This can’t be the same Kuma we fought, right?” you say, staring at the Pacifista in disbelief.

The crew quickly springs into action, each member fighting with all their strength. Chopper uses Cloven Roseo Metel slamming into Kuma, enraging him. Kuma retaliates, attempting to blast Chopper, but Franky intervenes with a powerful Strong Hammer, smashing into Kuma with force.

Kuma sends Franky flying effortlessly, but Robin swoops in with her Spider Net, catching Franky mid-air and preventing a harsh fall. Meanwhile, Brook tries to strike from above, but Kuma turns to blast him. Just in time, Usopp uses Atlas Comet, a precise shot that distracts Kuma and draws his attention away from Brook.

It seems Usopp’s attack has struck a nerve, causing Kuma to stagger. Franky observes closely. “Looks like this Kuma is just a clone, like me. We can take him down!”

You attempt to join the fight but feel too weak from earlier. You stay close to Nami and Robin, who are determinedly protecting you. “Stay back,” Nami says firmly. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

Robin adds, “We’ll keep you safe. Just hold on.” 

Kuma aims a powerful laser from his mouth, intending to blow everyone away. But before he can fire, Robin uses her Devil Fruit powers to clamp his mouth shut, causing the laser to shoot back and hit the Pacifista.

Nami seizes the moment and charges in with a Thunder Tempo, striking Kuma with a crackling bolt of electricity. However, the attack only seems to push Kuma further into a berserk state. 

Sanji, Zoro, and Luffy, each showing signs of exhaustion, prepare for their final techniques. Sanji unleashes a powerful Flambage Shot, his fiery attack scorching Kuma’s metal body. Zoro follows with a decisive Kiki Kyutoryu: Ashura, combining his swords in a whirlwind of slashes. Finally, Luffy, fully charged with Gear 3, delivers a colossal Gomu Gomu no Gigant Rifle, landing a devastating blow.

Kuma collapses under the relentless assault, and the crew, panting heavily, gathers to catch their breath.

You call out, your voice strained. “We need rest, you guys. This Kuma has drained almost all our energy!”

Before anyone can respond, a voice rings out from above, echoing through the air. “You guys got some real nerve, look what you've done!”

Everyone looks up in shock as a new figure descends from the sky. Throwing his axe with deadly precision towards the crew.

“Look out!” Usopp yells, scrambling to dodge the incoming weapon.

The mysterious figure lands with a heavy thud and reveals another Pacifista—a new Kuma—standing beside him.  

The mysterious figure looks at the defeated PX-4 with a sneer. “I’m disgusted. The Navy isn’t made of money. Building just one of these Pacifistas costs as much as an entire warship!”

The crew, already worn out from their previous battle, reacts with shock and dismay.

As the crew stares at the mysterious figure and the Pacifista, everyone wonders the same thing: is this the real Kuma or not? The tension is palpable until Franky breaks the silence. “Alright, axe guy, just who the hell are you?”

The figure tries to maintain his composure, but the pressure is too much. “I’m Sentomaru,” he finally admits, the words coming out like a confession. He gestures to the Pacifista next to him. “And this here is PX-1.”

Before anyone can react, PX-1 raises its arm and fires a powerful blast at the group. The explosion sends everyone flying, crashing into the ground with a force that leaves them winded. You land hard on Zoro, hearing him grunt in pain. Realizing the severity of his injuries, you quickly scramble off him.

Luffy, shaken but determined, quickly assesses the situation. “Guys, split up! Run!” His voice carries an urgency that makes the crew look at him with worry.

Usopp and Chopper, always quick to react, yell out in agreement. “Sounds good to me! RUN!” they shout, their arms flailing as they start sprinting away.

As the crew begins to scatter, Sanji pauses to check on Zoro, who’s struggling to his feet. “Are you going to be fine on your own?” Sanji asks

Zoro shoots him a glare, gritting his teeth. “Shut up and go. I can handle this.”

With a nod, Sanji turns to join his group, which includes Nami and Franky. As he sprints to catch up. he calls out, “Wait up, Nami! We should stick together!” His voice softens as he reaches her, heart eyes practically glowing. “I won’t let anything happen to you, my sweet Nami! 

Nami, still running, throws a quick glance over her shoulder and says, “That’s great and all, but what about Y/N?”

Sanji’s heart skips a beat as the realization hits him. He frantically scans the chaos around him, finally spotting you with Zoro’s group, being carried by Usopp. Panic and guilt flood his chest as he yells out, “Zoro! You better take care of Y/N!”

Zoro glances back at Sanji, his expression unimpressed. “Shut up, curly-brow. Your fault for leaving her behind in the first place,” he retorts sharply, his tone dismissive but protective.

Sanji clenches his fists, frustration and worry battling within him. “You idiot moss-head! If anything happens to her, I’ll—”

Zoro cuts him off, his gaze steady. “She’s safer with us right now. Focus on keeping Nami and Franky safe.”

Sanji grits his teeth, hating that Zoro is right. He turns back to his group, determination burning in his eyes. “Just make sure she’s alright, moss-head,” he mutters before focusing on Nami and Franky, ensuring their safety as they continue to evade the relentless attacks. 

As the chaos intensifies around them, Luffy’s voice rises above the noise. “Everyone, listen up!” he shouts, his tone commanding. “Promise to meet back here in three days! No matter what happens, we’ll all be back together!”

His words cut through the fear and confusion, a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil. Each member of the crew locks eyes with him, determination solidifying in their hearts. They all know the gravity of the situation, but Luffy’s unwavering belief in their bond fuels their resolve.

Usopp notices PX-1 closing in on them, and a wave of urgency hits him. “Brook, take Y/N and find a safer spot!” he commands, his voice tight. He gently hands you over to Brook, who immediately begins moving you to safety.

Usopp takes a deep breath and pulls out his slingshot. “Special Attack: Smoke Star!” he yells, releasing a barrage of smoke pellets to create a temporary barrier. But as the smoke clears, PX-1 blasts a bridge ahead of Sanji’s group, cutting off their escape route. The looming figure of PX-1 steps through the debris, blocking their path.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch this unfold, desperation taking over. Ignoring the pain coursing through your body, you try to get off Brook’s back, your thoughts consumed with only one thing—protecting Sanji. But as soon as your feet hit the ground, your legs give out, and you fall, the severity of your injuries making itself known.

Brook kneels beside you immediately, concern in his hollow eyes. “Y/N, you’re in no condition to move,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

Tears start to well up in your eyes, frustration and fear gripping your heart. “I can’t let anything happen to Sanji,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Please, Brook, I have to help him.”

Brook’s expression softens, and he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I know how much you care for him,” he says softly, his voice tinged with understanding and sorrow. “But you’re too hurt to fight right now. Sanji wouldn’t want you to risk your life like this.”

Your tears spill over, and you choke back a sob, the helplessness you feel crushing you. You want to protect him, to be by his side, but your body refuses to cooperate. “I just... I can’t lose him,” you whisper, the pain in your voice unmistakable.

Meanwhile, Luffy turns to see the commotion with Sanji’s group. His eyes widen in alarm as he spots Sentomaru charging toward him and his own group. “Gomu Gomu Gatling!” Luffy shouts, unleashing a flurry of punches toward Sentomaru. But Sentomaru deflects the attack with ease, sending Luffy flying back into a tree with a powerful blow.

A sudden explosion nearby halts the fighting. You and Usopp both cry out in alarm, your voices echoing in the chaos. Luffy, dazed but still determined, quickly scans the area. His heart skips a beat as he realizes Zoro’s group is in trouble. 

Zoros Group.. 

As the blinding yellow light fades, both you and Usopp cry out in horror. Zoro is on the ground, a grimace of pain etched on his face. The previous injuries he’s endured have left him vulnerable, and now, struck by the mysterious light, he lies helpless.

A figure emerges from the light, looming over Zoro with an air of arrogance. “Roronoa Zoro,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “A bounty of 120 million berri, and yet, you’re no challenge at all.”

Zoro grits his teeth, trying to muster the strength to move, but his body refuses to obey. The taunting words cut deep, but he’s powerless to retaliate. Brook, seeing his fallen comrade, shouts out in anger, “Just who the hell are you?!”

The man smirks, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Me? I’m Kizaru, an admiral of the navy.”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine. Your eyes widen in shock, and a sense of dread washes over you. “This can’t be,” you mutter, struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Kizaru’s presence means they’re facing one of the Navy’s strongest forces.

But fear quickly turns to anger as you see Zoro’s condition. With defiance burning in your chest, you glare at Kizaru, your voice shaking with fury. “You bastard, leave Zoro alone!”

Kizaru turns his gaze towards you, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Ohhh, what do we have here?” he muses, his tone dripping with condescension. “If it isn’t Miss Y/L/N , Y/N. You’ve made quite the headlines back at the auction house.”

His words make your blood run cold, but you refuse to back down. The memory of the auction house, of the Celestial Dragons and the chaos that ensued, flashes through your mind. You clench your fists, anger bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care who you are, Kizaru. You won’t get away with this!”

Kizaru chuckles, almost amused by your defiance. “Such bold words from someone so injured,” he says, taking a slow step toward you. The air around him crackles with energy, and you can feel the immense power radiating from him. “But you’re in no position to make threats.”

Before you can respond, Brook steps in front of you, his sword drawn. “I won’t let you harm Y/N!” he declares, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him.

Kizaru’s eyes narrow as he assesses Brook, but the admiral’s smile never wavers. “Brave, but foolish,” he remarks. With a blinding speed, Kizaru vanishes and reappears behind Brook, his leg raised for a devastating kick.

“Brook, watch out!” you scream, but it’s too late. Kizaru’s foot connects with Brook, sending him crashing into the ground with a sickening thud.

As Kizaru turns back to Zoro, his intent clear in his cold, calculating eyes, your heart races with fear and determination. You watch in horror as he raises his leg, prepared to deliver a fatal blow to Zoro. Desperation surges within you, and despite the pain coursing through your body, you force yourself to move.

“No!” you cry out, pushing past the agony as you lunge forward, throwing yourself in front of Zoro. With your arms spread wide, you try to shield him from Kizaru’s impending attack. “I won’t let you touch him!”

Kizaru’s expression remains impassive as he stares down at you, his leg paused in mid-air. “How noble,” he muses, his tone dripping with mockery. “But do you really think you can stop me?”

You don’t respond, your body trembling with both fear and determination. You know you’re no match for an admiral, but there’s no way you’ll let Zoro be taken out without a fight. If this is where it ends for you, then so be it—you’ll protect your crewmate with everything you have.

Kizaru’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, time seems to slow as he prepares to finish what he started. Just as you brace yourself for the impact, a sudden, powerful force intervenes.

A flash of silver cuts through the air, and in an instant, Kizaru’s leg is halted by the tip of a sword. You blink in shock as an imposing figure appears between you and Kizaru, his presence radiating an aura of calm yet undeniable strength.

“Now, now, Kizaru,” a familiar voice drawls. “Isn’t it a little unfair to pick on the wounded?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you recognize the man standing before you. It’s Silvers Rayleigh—the Dark King himself. The legendary former first mate of the Pirate King Gol D. Roger has come to your aid, his blade effortlessly blocking Kizaru’s attack.

Kizaru’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he quickly regains his composure, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Rayleigh,” he says, his tone betraying a hint of respect. “You’re as meddlesome as ever.”

With a swift movement, Rayleigh pushes Kizaru back, forcing the admiral to retreat a few steps. The sheer power in that single motion leaves no doubt that Rayleigh is still a force to be reckoned with, even after all these years.

You collapse to the ground, the adrenaline draining from your body now that the immediate danger has passed. Zoro groans beside you, still struggling to stay conscious, but a faint smile touches his lips as he sees Rayleigh standing there.

“Old man,” Zoro mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “You sure took your time.”

Rayleigh glances down at the two of you, his expression softening. “Apologies for the delay, but it seems I arrived just in time.”

Luffy, who has been watching the scene unfold, knows that they’re still in grave danger. The admiral, Kizaru, is not someone they can take on in their current state. “Everyone, run! Don’t fight! We have to get out of here!” he orders, his voice filled with urgency.

Usopp, understanding the gravity of the situation, quickly moves to lift Zoro over his shoulder. “Hang in there, Zoro. We’ve gotta get you out of here,” he mutters, struggling under the swordsman’s weight but determined not to let him down.

Brook, despite his own injuries, pushes through the pain. He gets back on his feet and gently lifts you onto his back. “I’ll carry you, Y/N. We’ll make it through this” he says, trying to sound lighthearted despite the dire circumstances.

As they move to retreat, Sanji is pulling at his hair in frustration. The guilt of not being able to protect you or the crew gnaws at him. “I should have been there! I should have done more!” he berates himself, his voice filled with anguish.

“Sanji, we have to focus! This isn’t your fault,” Nami yells, trying to snap him out of his spiral. “We need to stick together and get out of here!”

Franky, sensing the need to create distance, quickly readies his Coup de Vent. “I’ll blow it away!” he shouts, unleashing a powerful blast of air to push PX-1 back and give the group some breathing room.

The powerful gust sends PX-1 skidding back, but it isn’t enough. The Pacifista regains its footing with terrifying speed, reappearing directly behind Zoro’s group. “Damn it,” Sanji curses, his fists clenching as he sees the danger his friends are in. His body tenses, ready to spring into action.

“I have to save them!” Sanji yells, his resolve clear as he prepares to launch himself at PX-1.

“Sanji, what are you doing?!” Nami screams, her voice laced with panic. “You can’t take on that thing alone!”

But Sanji’s mind is made up. The image of you being carried by Brook, wounded and vulnerable, fuels his determination. He won’t let anything happen to you or the others, not while he still has the strength to fight.

Sanji dashes toward PX-1, his heart pounding with urgency. He launches a kick at the Pacifista, but the force of the impact reverberates through his leg, and he stumbles back in pain. The injury he sustained earlier makes it impossible for him to fight at full strength. Gritting his teeth, Sanji forces himself to stand, but his body betrays him, and he falls to his knees.

Usopp, running ahead, turns back and sees Sanji on the ground, the Pacifista’s targeting system locking onto him. Panic floods Usopp’s senses. “Sanji, get out of there!” he yells, desperation evident in his voice.

“Moron, why aren’t you running?!” Sanji shouts back, frustration mingling with his concern. But before he can say more, he notices your voice cutting through the chaos.

“Sanji, look out!” you cry, your voice strained and weak. You see the deadly glint of the laser charging up, aimed directly at him. Time seems to slow as you watch in horror, your heart pounding in your chest.

The laser fires, and the world erupts in chaos. Zoro’s group is blasted once again, sent sprawling across the ground from the impact. Sanji, disoriented and hurt, looks around in a daze, his eyes landing on you. He sees your injured self, struggling to stay conscious, your breaths shallow and labored.

“Hey, hey, Y/N,” Sanji calls out, his voice trembling with fear. “Look at me, don’t leave me.” His usual bravado is gone, replaced with raw emotion as he pleads with you to stay awake.

You try to fight off the exhaustion, but your body feels heavy, the pain overwhelming. Your vision blurs as you meet Sanji’s eyes, his desperate gaze burning into your soul. You want to stay awake, to keep fighting, but everything is slipping away.

Usopp, seeing the situation spiraling out of control, grits his teeth and raises his slingshot, trying to distract PX-1. “I won’t let you hurt my friends!” he yells, firing another attack. But the Pacifista is relentless, and just as another laser charges up, ready to fire at Sanji and the rest of you, a commanding voice cuts through the air.

“Stand down, PX-1,” the voice orders with an air of authority.

The Pacifista halts its attack immediately. You manage to lift your head, your vision clearing just enough to see the source of the voice. Standing before you, Sanji, Usopp, and Brook is the real Bartholomew Kuma, his massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield.

The tension in the air shifts dramatically as Kuma’s presence registers. Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief, while Usopp and Brook exchange wary glances. The overwhelming sense of danger that had filled the air moments ago lingers, but now there’s a new, uncertain calm that settles over the scene, as everyone braces for what might come next.

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Guys!!! It's about to get real in these next chapters that I got! Chapter 5 will be uploaded tomorrow. But yall I was tearing up at one of the paragraphs. As always thank you so much for following, liking, sharing and reblogging. As always I'll see you tomorrow for more Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise.

[gr0ggy]

ᖴOᖇ YOᑌ (​ᗰIGᑌEᒪ ᙭ ᗷᒪK!ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ)

warnings: 18+ dbf!miguel o'Hara, age gap (reader is 25, Miguel is 44), all characters are adults, dad’s best friend Miguel, sexual content, gabriella exists, no use of yn, miguel x reader, Miguel is spiderman, Miguel is a whore, black reader, descriptions of hair and skin, slow, Miguel doesn’t know you’re his best friends daughter until later, swearing, mother father and brother's name mentioned

wc: 3.7k

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚'

Series Masterlist | Blog | Masterlist

 After Miguel picked Gabriella up from school, the evening seemed to slip away in a blur. He had told her about the plans for the night, and her reaction was nothing short of ecstatic. For a child who only ever cycled between his apartment, the park, and school, the prospect of going somewhere new was thrilling.

As the evening grew, Miguel helped Gabriella into a cozy, lavender sweater and combed through her unruly curls. That's when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen to see a message from James with the address of his apartment.

Miguel studied the location for a moment, noting it wasn't too far, just a few miles away. That was a relief.

"Alright, kiddo," he called to Gabriella, who was already waiting by the door, her small fingers fidgeting with the zipper on her coat. "Let's go meet some new people. And we're on our best behavior, yeah?"

Gabriella nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Stepping outside, Miguel was greeted by the brisk bite of Fall. Instinctively, he crouched down and adjusted Gabriella's coat, pulling the zipper all the way up to her chin. The faint, rosy glow on her cheeks made him smile. He took her hand in his, the two of them walking toward his sleek black Mercedes parked on the curb.

The car ride was filled with Gabriella's non-stop chatter, her sweet voice breaking the silence with stories about school, her favorite TV shows, and her latest art project, which apparently featured a "super sparkly sun." Miguel caught glimpses of her in the rearview mirror, her face animated as she spoke.

He listened quietly, nodding now and then while his mind flickered with nerves. It had been a while since he'd done anything remotely social. Not counting one-night stands, of course, but this? This felt different.

As they pulled up to James' apartment building, Miguel parked and stepped out, unbuckling Gabriella from her seat. Her tiny hand slipped into his as they walked to the building's entrance. The apartment complex was newer than he expected, its polished exterior lined with bright lights.

When they reached James' door, Miguel noticed the small, silver doorbell—an unusual touch for an apartment. Before he could react, Gabriella's face lit up.

"I wanna ring it!" she exclaimed, her voice bursting with enthusiasm.

Miguel chuckled softly, placing a finger to his lips. "Inside voices, honey. Go on then." He gestured toward the button.

Gabriella stretched onto her tiptoes, her arms reaching as far as they could, but it was no use. The doorbell was just out of her grasp.

Miguel let out a small, affectionate sigh—not the kind born from annoyance but the kind that comes when a parent witnesses their child's pure innocence. He leaned down, gently lifting her so she could press the button.

From behind the door, hurried footsteps echoed, followed by a familiar voice calling, "They're here!"

The door swung open, revealing James with a broad smile on his face. "Miguel, welcome!" His eyes immediately dropped to Gabriella, softening with warmth. "And you must be Gabriella."

Miguel chuckled at his friend's exuberance. Stepping into the apartment, he felt Gabriella press closer to his side, her curious eyes darting around as she took in the unfamiliar space.

"Yeah, this is Gabriella," Miguel said, his voice carrying a hint of quiet pride. "Gabi, can you say hello?"

Gabriella tilted her head up toward James, her cheeks flushed as she mustered a shy smile. "Hi," she mumbled softly.

James' grin widened, and Miguel couldn't help but feel a little lighter as he watched the moment unfold.

"Come on in, you two. Make yourselves at home," James said, stepping aside to let them fully into the warmly lit apartment.

Miguel glanced down at Gabriella as she clung to his hand, her wide-eyed curiosity lingering on every little detail. For the first time in a while, he felt like this, whatever this was, might be exactly what they both needed.

"It's nice to finally meet you," James held his hand out for  Gabi to shake. Vanessa, James' wife came padding out of the kitchen to say hello.

Miguel watched as Gabriella shyly shook hands with James and Vanessa. A small wave of relief washed over him, she was settling in well so far. Vanessa stepped forward with a warm smile that immediately set him at ease.

"Nice to meet you," Miguel said politely, extending his hand. "You have a beautiful home." His eyes wandered briefly around the space. The apartment, more of a penthouse, was decorated with striking art pieces and sleek, modern furniture.

"Thank you so much! It's great to finally meet you, too." Vanessa's handshake was firm, her demeanor radiating genuine friendliness.

Miguel matched her grip, feeling some of his earlier tension dissipate. The warmth of her welcome and the comforting ambiance of the home seemed to ease his nerves.

"Likewise," Miguel replied with a slight nod. "James mentioned you guys have kids, right?"

Vanessa chuckled lightly. "We do, though calling them 'kids' might be a bit of a stretch these days."

Miguel raised an eyebrow at her comment. Not kids anymore? How old are they? He wondered.

Vanessa excused herself to fetch them, heading upstairs with a spring in her step. As she disappeared, Miguel crouched down to Gabriella's level, gently ruffling her hair. "Stay close, okay?"

Gabriella nodded, her curious eyes darting around the unfamiliar home.

Moments later, footsteps echoed on the stairs. Miguel straightened as Vanessa returned, accompanied by a tall young man, likely in his late teens or early twenties.

"This is our son, Clay," Vanessa said with pride as the young man stepped forward, his posture relaxed but confident.

"Nice to meet you, Clay," Miguel said, nodding in acknowledgment.

Clay offered a nonchalant half-smile, shoving his hands into his pockets. "'Sup," he said casually.

Miguel chuckled, recognizing the familiar tone of teenage indifference. "Not much," he replied, though his attention flickered back toward the staircase. Vanessa's footsteps soon echoed again, heading back up to retrieve someone else.

____________________________________________

Upstairs, the bass-heavy beat of Smino's music pulsed through your walls as you worked at your desk, earbuds tucked in while you sketched designs for your job. You were in your old bedroom, which was a strange enough experience, feeling like a teenager all over again.

A knock on the door pulled you from your focus.

"Hey," your mom called softly. "We have a visitor. I want you to come say hi."

You rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply. A visitor? Really? It was bad enough having these forced family dinners to "stay connected," but now there was a stranger involved? Your parents had paid for your way through fashion school. They said, in return, you had to come to dinner once a week.

You attributed that to them missing you, wanting you to be a kid again.

You're 25...

"Sorry, Mom, I'm busy," you muttered, already knowing she wouldn't let it go.

Begrudgingly, you pushed your chair back and pulled out your earbuds.

Reluctantly, you followed her down the stairs, keeping your gaze on your feet. But as you reached the bottom step, you looked up—and your breath caught in your throat.

Your heart raced as your eyes met his. You recognized him instantly. Miguel. The man you'd hooked up with just a week ago.

You forced yourself to play it cool, masking your shock behind a casual tone. "Wh—who's this?" you asked, tearing your eyes away from his and looking at your mom.

"This is your dad's friend from college, Miguel O'hara," Vanessa said with a sweet smile, completely unaware of the tension crackling in the air.

"Since when does dad have friends?" you joked, trying to keep your voice steady. Humor was your go-to defense mechanism, and right now, you desperately needed it.

Miguel's heart skipped a beat as you rounded the corner. Seeing you again so unexpectedly was like a punch to the gut, but he quickly masked his reaction, keeping his expression neutral.

Vanessa laughed lightly at your joke,But shot you a look that read 'greet the man.'

"Hi, Mr. O'Hara..." You said quietly.

Miguel's focus was entirely on you. Your tone, your gaze—it all sent his thoughts spiraling.

" Your dad was quite the social butterfly back in college," He didn't know what to say, so he went to the past, his voice steady despite the storm inside him.

"Was he," you said flatly, not as a question but more of a statement. Your eyes stayed locked on his, challenging him, searching for a crack in his composure.

Miguel fought to maintain his calm demeanor, even as his mind replayed the memory of that night. The taste of you returning on his tongue, the way you were looking at him now, intense and unrelenting, made it nearly impossible.

"Oh, yeah," he said evenly, his tone betraying none of the turmoil beneath.

The silence that followed was deafening, an unspoken tension hanging thick in the air. Your mother, seemingly oblivious to it all, gestured toward the dining room with a cheerful smile.

You see a little girl peaking behind Miguel's leg. Before you could mention her, your father cleared his throat and said,

"Alright... Well, dinner's done so why don't we all go and eat?" He clapped his hands together and walked toward the dining room.

Miguel silently thanked James for disrupting the lingering tension. His friend's interruption gave him a chance to tear away from your unwavering gaze, though the momentary reprieve did little to calm the storm inside him.

He glanced down at Gabriella, who was clinging to his leg, her wide eyes scanning the unfamiliar room.

"Uh, yeah," he managed, his voice slightly hoarse. "Sounds good."

With a gentle nudge, he encouraged Gabriella forward, following everyone else toward the dining room.

The table was elegantly set, the aroma of steak, mashed potatoes, broccolini, and freshly baked rolls filling the air, candles littered across it. Vanessa and James moved with practiced ease, placing the dishes in the center of the table.

Miguel settled into a chair, trying to keep his focus on the food and the light chatter around him. But his attention kept drifting back to you.

You sat across from him, carefully avoiding his gaze, though it was clear you were just as aware of him as he was of you. You stabbed at your mashed potatoes, pretending they demanded your full attention, but every few bites, your eyes betrayed you.

There he was, Miguel, sitting at your family dinner table like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't fucked just last week. And don’t even get started on the fact that he has a daughter…

Your eyes trailed over him, unwillingly soaking in the sight of him. His gray turtleneck clung to his frame, outlining broad shoulders and a sculpted chest. You could see the indent of his cross necklace under the shirt. Even the way he sipped his water was grounding, feeling the coolness of it with each gulp, combating his nervousness.

God, why does he have to be so sexy? you thought bitterly, chewing another forkful of potatoes.

Miguel felt the weight of your stolen glances. Each time your eyes met, a jolt of memory shot through him. He focused on his plate, desperate to steer his mind away from the night you'd shared. But it was impossible. The tension between you was almost annoying.

He looked down at Gabriella, who was quietly observing the adults, and tousled her hair affectionately, grateful for her presence as a distraction.

"This is delicious, Vanessa," Miguel said, breaking the silence as he reached for a bread roll.

Vanessa beamed. "Thank you, Miguel! It's James's favorite, I think I've perfected it over the years."

You listened to their exchange, chewing slowly, watching as Miguel's eyes briefly flicked toward you. His gaze lingered for just a moment too long, tracing the curve of your neckline.

You shifted uncomfortably, heat rising to your face. Why didn't I wear a bra? You wondered, cursing your choice of the snug, dark purple top with its low-cut neckline, and a matching skirt. You loved fashion, always had, it’s your job for crying out loud, but tonight it felt more like a curse than a blessing.

Miguel caught himself staring and quickly looked away, scolding himself internally. Stop looking at her. Just stop.

Your mom's voice cut through his thoughts. "So, Miguel, what do you do for work?"

Relieved by the distraction, he straightened and cleared his throat. "I work in biotechnologies, actually," he said, his tone polite. "I'm a cross-species geneticist."

"Wow," your mom said, visibly impressed. "That's incredible. James always surrounded himself with intelligent people."

Miguel chuckled softly, glancing at your dad. "We definitely had our fair share of adventures back in the day. Though most of them aren't worth repeating now."

He laughed heartily. "Oh, absolutely not. If I tried to drink like we did in college, I'd probably need medical intervention."

Miguel laughed along, memories of wild college nights flashing through his mind. "It's a miracle we survived those years, honestly. I don't know how we managed to function the next day."

Without thinking, you blurted out, "I mean, you are in great shape." You were so zoned out you hadn't even realized you said that.

The words hung in the air, drawing everyone's attention.

You froze. Why would you say that? Panic bubbled in your chest, and you tried to backtrack. "F—for your age, I mean," you added quickly, your voice faltering.

Miguel blinked, caught off guard by your comment. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though he fought to keep his expression neutral.

"Uh, thanks," he said, his tone light. "I try to stay in decent shape."

James chuckled, oblivious to the undercurrent between you and Miguel. "I was gonna say the same thing. You might even be in better shape now than in college. What's your regimen?"

Being Spider-Man... Miguel thought, but he didn't say it. 

Miguel leaned back slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Just consistency, really. I stick to weights and cardio, and keep the diet balanced. Nothing too fancy."

As the conversation shifted to fitness and old college stories, you felt your cheeks cool slightly, though your mind was still racing. Miguel's smirk lingered in your thoughts, as did the memory of his lingering gaze.

Across the table, Miguel felt the tension ease ever so slightly, but he couldn't shake the feeling of awareness between you two. The night was far from over, and he knew it would take everything he had to keep things from spiraling further.

____________________________________________

Your brother had always been a science nerd, but his obsession leaned more toward astronomy than biochemistry. Still, that didn't stop him from bombarding Miguel with questions about his work.

As the conversation grew increasingly technical, you found your focus slipping. The tension between you and Miguel was still simmering beneath the surface, and sitting there, watching him explain gene splicing with that calm, deep voice, only made it worse.

You seized the opportunity to escape. "Excuse me, I have to use the restroom," you said, rising quickly from your chair. The words came out smoother than you expected, hiding the real reason for your abrupt departure: you needed air.

The tension was overwhelming, suffocating even—and, to your own frustration, it was turning you on.

Miguel noticed your sudden exit. He nodded slightly in acknowledgment, trying not to let his eyes linger too long. As you disappeared down the hallway, he forced himself to refocus on the conversation, though it was harder than ever.

He nodded along to your brother's enthusiasm about genetic engineering, offering measured responses. Still, his mind wandered, replaying the way you'd avoided his gaze as you excused yourself. The absence of your presence made the air feel lighter but far less interesting.

When you returned, the energy shifted again, and Miguel caught himself stealing a glance as you slid back into your seat. He barely had time to adjust before the conversation turned, this time to something far less innocuous.

"So," your dad began, pointing his fork at Miguel. "Have you found someone to babysit Gabriella yet?"

Miguel hesitated for a moment, glancing at Gabriella, who was busy poking at her broccolini. "Not yet," he admitted. "It's been a bit tricky finding someone."

"Oh, she could do it," your dad said, gesturing casually toward you.

What??

"What!?" you exclaimed, your voice rising before you could stop it.

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours, his expression unreadable. Surprise flickered in his gaze, though he quickly schooled his features into something neutral. He hadn't expected your dad to volunteer you, and the idea sent his pulse into overdrive.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Miguel said quickly, trying to sound polite. Deep down, the thought of spending more time with you, without his best friend around, was both exciting and daunting.

"No, no, 'cause I remember you saying that once your fashion internship ends, you were gonna take up babysitting," your dad chimed in, completely oblivious to the awkwardness at the table.

You let out a forced chuckle, your smile tight. "I did, didn't I?" you replied, though the words felt foreign coming out of your mouth.

The room seemed to wait for your answer, and you felt trapped. If you declined now, your dad would wonder why. It wasn't like you to go back on your word without a good reason, and you couldn't exactly explain the reason, not without blowing up the carefully constructed facade.

"Sure... I—I can babysit Gabriella, she's adorable," you said, your voice a touch too high. Are you kidding me? you thought, mentally facepalming.

Miguel's gaze lingered on you, searching your expression. He could see the hesitation, the way your hands fidgeted with the seem of your skirt. He wanted to intervene, to say something that might ease your obvious discomfort, but the words didn't come.

"Thank you, That'd be a huge help," he said instead, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

"Yeah... no problem," you mumbled, staring down at your lap as if the answers to life's complications were written on your nails.

Vanessa and James seemed satisfied with your agreement, moving on to discuss logistics as Miguel took another long sip of water, hoping it would cool the heat rising in his chest.

The idea of you babysitting Gabriella was equal parts terrifying and intoxicating. It was dangerous, yes, but it also meant more time near him, and despite his better judgment, Miguel couldn't help but feel a bit of anticipation.

For your part, you were cursing yourself inwardly. What had you just signed up for?

You glanced at Miguel out of the corner of your eye. His expression was unreadable, but his presence felt as magnetic as ever. The chemistry between you crackled quietly beneath the surface, promising that this arrangement was bound to get complicated.

____________________________________________

 About an hour and a half later, as Miguel stepped out of the apartment holding Gabriella's hand, his mind was still a tangled mix of emotions. They had just said their goodbyes to your parents and were heading toward his car when he heard your voice, a hint of urgency lacing his name.

"Migu-!" you stopped and cleared your throat. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He turned to see you jogging toward him, wrapped in a moss-green cardigan that clung to your frame. His grip on Gabriella’s hand tightened instinctively as he glanced back at you.

"Hey, um…" you started, glancing down at Gabriella. Whatever you wanted to say, it wasn’t meant for her ears. Miguel picked up on the cue and nodded toward the car.

“Go ahead, mija,” he said softly. “Get in the backseat. I’ll be right there.”

Once she was inside, Miguel turned back to you, his dark eyes steady. “What is it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his focus entirely on you.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The words were stuck in your throat. Miguel took a small step closer, his presence steadying but electric all at once.

“Just say it,” he murmured, his tone calm but unwavering.

You inhaled deeply, your brows furrowing slightly. “You’re not married, are you?” you blurted, the question sharper than you’d intended.

Miguel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he looked down, shaking his head. “No,” he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. “No, I’m not married.”

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, and you nodded, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Okay. I just… I didn’t know you had a daughter, so I thought maybe—” You hesitated, your voice lowering into a whisper. “I just didn’t want to be some kind of homewrecker.”

The words lingered in the night air, and Miguel studied your expression, reading the mix of guilt and relief that flickered across your face.

“Right,” he said softly, his gaze gentle but unreadable. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “You don’t have to worry about that.” A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Not—not that what happened a week ago will ever happen again,” you stammered, though your tone lacked conviction.

Miguel’s smirk widened, and he tilted his head slightly, watching as you stumbled over your own words. “Of course not,” he agreed, though the tension between you said otherwise.

"It'll never happen again..." he repeated.

It’ll never happen again? you thought, your heart racing. Why does that sound so damn tempting when he says it?

“O-okay,” you said, your voice shaky. “So, um, I’ll babysit Gabriella whenever you need me.” You tried to inject some professionalism into your tone, though it was clear you were struggling.

Miguel’s gaze softened as he watched you fidget awkwardly, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “Sounds great,” he replied, his voice dipping slightly, carrying a husky undertone.

This was dangerous.

“Just text me to remind me,” you added, glancing up at him.

His eyes held yours, the intensity in them making it hard to breathe. “I’d need your number to do that,” he said, his tone smooth, edged with subtle seduction.

Your cheeks felt hot as you crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’d left your number last week, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Miguel laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Touché,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “That was a mistake."

"A mistake?"

He took a small step forward, the space between you shrinking until you were almost touching. The air between you was charged, your unspoken desires buzzing like static electricity.

“Yeah, right,” you shot back, your voice unsteady but playful. “That was a fully intentional hit and run.”

“Totally planned,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm, though his gaze dipped briefly to your lips.

Your jaw clenched, and your heart thudded in your chest as his nearness overwhelmed you. Your eyes flicked to his mouth, and you realized with a simple feeling of longing that he was thinking the same thing you were.

We can’t.

“I should get back inside,” you said abruptly, your voice breaking the spell.

Miguel nodded, though he didn’t step back. “Yeah, you probably should,” he agreed, his tone low and laced with something that made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a moment, your feet rooted to the ground even as your head screamed at you to move. “Tell Gabriella I said it was nice to meet her...” you said finally, your voice softer now.

Miguel’s eyes lingered on you, the urge to reach for you nearly impossible to suppress. “I will,” he promised, his voice steady, though his thoughts were anything but.

As you turned to walk away, Miguel watched you go, his gaze tracing the subtle sway of your hips. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to leave it alone, but the pull toward you was undeniable.

This was dangerous, and he knew it. But somehow, danger had never looked so tempting.

____________________________________________

[tokoyamisstuff]

Vocem Virtutis

Lat. "voice of virtue"

Prequel to Incursio Infernalis, but can be read as standalone story.

18+ | 5k. words | Alexander Anderson x f! Reader | slow burn

Summary: Unbeknownst to you, the only thing standing between Anderson and his madness is the bond you formed.

Warnings: Mental illness, violent thoughts, masturbation, slight voice kink, injury, blood, fabricated backstory, they're both so in denial it is aggravating

Heretics. All of them.

It was far past midnight when the Paladin walked aimlessly around the estate, low growls deteriorating into manic laughter.

Anderson always knew he was just as much of a monster as those he had sworn to exterminate.

Born in sin by vile excuses of human beings, doomed to suffer unspeakable from his very first breath. That was probably the reason why he is so adamant to help children in need, and also why seeing people indulge in impure habits makes him see red.

Much to his luck however he was always a force of nature, massive in size and muscle even before the genetic enhancement - resilient despite the circumstances and at some point able to fend for himself.

When the time came that he was surrendered to the orphanage, there was nothing left but a sociopath with an unquenchable thirst for violence.

Not able to escape his past, he carried a darkness inside of him that was almost impossible to contain. A bloodlust that, if not contained, could be catastrophal for people in his vincinity.

But he did not want to hurt innocents the way it was done to him.

Anderson found solace in his faith. Discipline and self-restraint were obligatory, attributes he desperately needed to contain this wicked part of his soul.

The nuns at the orphanage drilled their ideals and ways into his head from a very young age, channeling his wrath into a direction that was beneficial - thus effectively turning him into the Vatican's bloodhound.

They convinced him that god doesn't make mistakes, that his creation is always flawless, and that everyone - including himself - exists for a reason. The thought was a consolation for the young lad he once was.

Yes, he is a necessary evil, his unholy purpose to fight evil even worse than mankind. And so he found an outlet for this erratic need to destroy.

But that doesnt change what he was, and during peaceful nights like this was one, his patience grew dangerously thin.

It has been weeks since he's last been on a mission, and controlling this overwhelming power becoming more and more of an impossible task. His whole body was burning like a witch on the pyre, muscles aching for the thrill to tear something apart.

Subconsciously, he is already searching for a victim. The slightest mistake, the most trivial overstepping would be punished severely...

...and then he found you.

Faint moonlight illuminated the hallways as you cradled an infant in your arms, quietly lulling it back to sleep. It was a sight to behold, accentuated with your balmy voice managing to calm his erratic nerves.

Without being aware of it, you spared someone an unnecessary gruesome demise.

You gasped when you notice something shuffle in the shadows, not expecting anyone to be up at this hour. But your expression visibly relaxed when you recognized the face of the Paladin.

"Apologies, dear. I did not mean to startle you." He was quick to put on the harmless facade, hands crossed behind his back as he greeted you. "What a wonderful song that was. You should join the choir at our mass."

"O-oh. Good evening, Father" you stutter as his imposing figure towers over you, nervous under his scrutiny. "I hope I did not disturb your rest?"

"Not at all." The man gifted you a polite smile and your lips mirror his. "I barely need sleep. Just making my rounds to assure everything is safe."

You chant in acknowledgement before tending to the baby again, softly patting it's back as it let out a whine. "Who's that lil' fella? A new addition to the flock?"

"It's a boy" you explain, "Doesn't have a name yet. I think he's colicky, but I am new to...well...this."

If only Maxwell had someone so nurturing care for him back in the day, then the boy wouldn't be half as miserable.

Well, he's one to talk...

The assassin made a gesture with his hand, signalizing you to hand the child over to him. You hesitate, not wanting to give up on the task already, but surrender for the baby's sake.

"You're humble, that is good" he preaches, "But the nuns told me you are doing splendid. You're a great help and the children love you very much already."

You watch as he coos sweet affirmations towards the infant, easily settling it stomach first onto his forearm. "One of the perks of being tall" he jokes and you chuckle along. It's an adorable sight, a behemoth like him handling a newborn with so much care. "Remember this technique, it's very helpful."

"Thank you very much, Father" you cheer, practically beaming up at him as you both watch the child drift into a sweet slumber.

As he hands you the child back, you could've sworn his hands linger on yours for a little longer than necessary. "Well then, lass, I bid you a good night-"

"Wait!" you exclaim, lowering your voice as you remembered that everyone else was sleeping. "I just...I'll tuck the baby in, and...maybe we share some tea?"

Anderson quirks a brow at the unexpected suggestion. He could've sworn you avoided him like the pest ever since he freed you from that Vampire's lair two months ago. Got the sentiment, though. He was a frightening person in general, and seeing him so unhinged was certainly not a very good first impression.

But knowing that rest is unlikely for him he chooses your company over his humble bedroom any time. "Aye, then we meet at the library. I'll prepare the rest."

Only ten minutes later you sit in the huge armchairs across each other, the fireplace heated and tea served. Even some sweet treats laid out on the table for you.

"You didn't have to go out of your way..." you murmur, hesistantly reaching for a bisquit.

"Well, it's not everyday that I get an invitation like this" he laughs in that deep tone of his, the cup comically small in his large hands. "So tell me, how have you adjusted?"

"Everyone is very kind" you note happily, "But it's a lot to learn." Truth be told, you were catholic only on paper. So you had to start gaining knowledge from ground zero.

"We all worked hard to fit into our role" he answers with wisdom, "And struggle is part of growth." He sees you clutch the cup harder, shuffle uncomfortably tense in your seat. "So...what did you really want to talk to me about?"

"I-I guess I never got the chance to thank you." Well that went in a completely different direction than he anticipated. "For saving me back then, and especially for offering me to stay. I don't know how I can ever repay you..."

Anderson sighed as he put down the cup. "God has saved you, lamb. I'm just his humble tool. And knowing you're thriving is all reward I need, really." He then looks down to your hands, worried as he saw them shaking ever so slightly. "If my presence makes you uncomfortable-"

"N-No! Of course not!" you cut him off immediately, saddened that your reaction caused a misunderstanding. "I'm just a lil' jittery still, because...seeing you, it just...brings back memories of that night."

"Take all the time you need to heal." He briefly puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder before retracting it and you're glad that he is so understanding. "But remember, the Vatican is one of the safest places in the entire world. And...you're part of my flock now, lamb. You're always protected."

"I know that, Father" you respond, "And I'm very grateful." Stirring the spoon in the empty cup, you timidly add "Say, if you're an insomniac like me, we could make this a habit? It was very helpful talking to you."

There was a long pause between your question and his answer.

For a moment he was contemplating to preach at you for even voicing this preposition, concerned for your intentions. But in the end, why not? This was a public space, and as long as it limits to innocent socializing, there was nothing forbidden about it.

This might be a routine worth implementing. A lesser evil surely, if it means keeping him from doing the things he's normally capable of when bored.

"I enjoyed myself as well" he admits, "Let's hope you get some sleep rather, but I'd be glad to see you again."

That aggreement soon evolved into a wonderful friendship, meeting up at the library whenever the two of you were unable to find rest. Which was quite often, mind you.

And the more you got to know about the unusual Paladin, the more he positively surprised you.

Anderson singlehandedly funded this entire orphanage, not keeping a single coin of his earnings to himself. He officially adopted every orphan himself, though it pained you to hear that some chosen individuals would be trained to join Iscariot if they come of age.

He knew everything about each child, spending basically his whole scarce free time caring for them. So even during the day you spend a lot of time together through teaching, everyday tasks, or taking them on trips.

Except for you, the children are the only ones that actively seek his presence. He admires that their spirits are still free of judgement, he once admitted. It seems like his opinion about himself was rather sombre as well, yet he kept any details to himself no matter how relentlessly you pried.

The nights you spent learning from him, oftentimes getting into arguments about how one interprets certain passages of the bible. Or going on strolls through the garden, starting to feel safe again even in the midst of the night.

It was especially enjoyable to listen to the astonishing stories about his everlasting battle against the supernatural. You'd always wait for him to return from each mission, no matter how late, and he figures this must be what it feels like to have a wife to come home to.

At least it's the closest he can get.

As hard to explain as it was, but Anderson actually felt a lot more human in your vincinity.

However it did not go unnoticed how close the two of you had gotten, apparent in how his gaze lingered on you during mass or the way you were drawn to each other, touching 'by accident' conspicuously often.

Were you even aware of this yourselves?

Though for a long time, no one dared to speak up or address the topic. Most were equal parts respecting and fearing the Judas Priest, the infamous Regenerator, God's Assassin. Others, like Maxwell for example, were too corrupt themselves to care whatever Anderson does during his free time as long as he fulfill his job.

If anything, he's glad not to have to hide any bodies anymore.

So you were absolutely flabbergasted when the Reverend Mother inquisitioned about your affilliations with the Paladin, to say the least. To her defenses, she knew him ever since childhood, and during her time at the order she witnessed countless fools starting to harbor indecent feelings for each other.

The two of you were an open book to her, one could say.

And even after assuring that the Priesr was on his best behavior, her warning left a carve in your relationship. "Anderson is a well-respected member of the order, and an exceptional warrior for our faith. I know he can be quite charming, but don't be fooled" she said, emphasizing every word. "Behind the mask there lies a deeply troubled individual, and I am worried for your safety."

Eventually, her words would soon be confirmed to be true when one night, he returned from a mission like so many times before - but this time, his demeanour had changed completely.

It was surely not the first time you saw him covered in red, always scolding him that the children might wake and see him this way.

Apprehension crept on you when you saw his broad shoulders having with every breath, and much to your horror you realized it was his own blood this time, pouring out from a gaping wound that reached from his chest to his stomach.

"Anderson!" you exclaimed as if you could physically feel his pain, a mystery to you how he could even stand upright right now. "Shit, what happened?"

"Language" he scolded you and if the situation wasn't so severe, you certainly would've laughed about his priorities. "We need to get you to the infirmary" you order, slipping your head under his arm to support him.

"This needs to be stitched. I already called for a doctor. Lay down." Anderson was amazed how you could keep a clear head all while tending to his wounds with such great skill, but he wasn't complaining.

"How's that even possible?" you utter under your breath, having offered the man a hand while you disinfected the cut. "Certain beings have unique abilities" he grids, flexing his fists in anger. "That bloody cunt...next time I'll make her choke on her own guts..."

You've never heard him talk like that before, but there wasn't much time to process his words since the pressure on your hand increases to a painful degree. And even while temporarily rendered powerless, he was still strong, inhumanly so. "Anderson, it hurts...Anderson!"

Luckily he snaps out of it before breaking your wirst like a twig, shocked with himself as he heard your pained whimpers. Both of you didn't even register the knock on the door, interrupting this moment much to your relief. "Y/N? The doctor you requested is he- uh, is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, thank you" you urge the nun, "Send him in and go back to sleep." She didn't need to be told twice, glad to not be the subject of his wrath.

The medic didn't even have the chance to start his work, a bayonett pointed towards his throat as soon as he had entered the room. "Did I just catch you staring improper at this woman, you imbecile?!"

You want to protest, barely even having explained the situation to the doctor, but the Paladin continues his threats. "I'm sick and tired of this half-assed pretense you people call practicing our faith. I can turn you inside out anytime, so I wouldn't look at her again if you want to keep your head."

Anderson's expression was sinister, fists still balled so tightly that his gloves almost tear. He relentlessly cites bible verses to silence his head, but to no avail. Despite the possible danger, you softly grab his hand holding the blade, looking at him all doe-eyed until he'd surrender the weapon to you.

"Sing for me, would ya'" he asks out of the blue, and you immediately understand that he needs it to remain calm. You choose a religious song, of course, to remind him of his duties.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wrench like me

I once was lost, but now I found

Was blind, but now I see."

The poor doctor was sweating heavily during the whole process, the fact that you never left his side making it even more complicated for him. Anderson had closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of your voice instead of the raging anger inside of him. He wouldn't even flinch as his flesh got poked again and again, and you wondered how much pain a person had to endure to reach this level of unresponsiveness.

"You should leave as long as he can still suppress his bloodlust" you tell the man contradictionary cheerful, "I'll wrap him up. Thank you very much." He flees the scene as fast as possible, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"That was unnecessary and cruel" you scold him as you apply several compresses. He just scoffs bitterly, stubbornly. "Oh please, I know an infidel when I see one" He mentally adds "...and that man was staring you down like a piece of meat." Probably more projection that anything.

"Is that so?" You refuse to look him in the eyes, instead busying yourself with the wound. "Would you have killed me too if you knew I wasn't practicing the religion back then?"

Your accusation send a pang of guilt straight to his chest. Just to imagine harming you makes him feel sick.

"...that's- you're different" he lies, knowing it was absolutely in his range of possibility. You internally groan at his ignorance and hypocrysy. He's such a blockhead sometimes, incorrigible in his ways.

"You're so filled with hatred that you forget the Lord's preachings about forgiveness and love" you state and he narrows his eyes at you. How dare you act like you know the holy script better than a literal priest, the one that teached you no less? "You better shut your mouth now, woman."

Unimpressed by his empty threat, you cross your arms in frustration. "Or else what, you're gonna stab me too?"

"Of...of course not" he mutters, hiding behind the reflection of his glasses as he turns his head away. But you cup his cheek with your hand, gently forcing him to look you into those damn enticing eyes of yours.

"M'sorry" Anderson finally said, unaware that he's leaning into your touch, the stubble of his beard tickling your palm. "I did not mean to scare ya'."

Placing one hand over his heart as you help him sit up, you claim "You could never."

Now that he finally became level-headed again, a tidal wave of shame washed over the Paladin. You were clearly a mess, unable to keep it together any longer now that he's out of danger. Seeing him like this made the flashbacks of your captivity re-emerge, eyes beginning to water as you blink back tears.

Anderson knew how people behaved around him after having seen behind the act. He expected you to flee, to never speak to him again unless necessary, maybe even asking to be relocated...

...but instead you wrap your arms around Anderson's bandaged thorso, sobbing heavily as you listen to his ragged heartbeat.

He's human after all. He does have a heart.

Just needed to make sure.

Both phsyically and mentally exhausted, Anderson put his head atop of yours, huffing quite irritated with himself. You were so small and fragile compared to him, so pure and precious. He cannot bear the possibility of getting you in harm's way. He needs to better himself.

For the Lord, for the orphanage, for you.

"Why did you stay?" he finds himself asking, practically having to tear himself away from your warmth. Shouldn't indulge into the feeling too much.

"Because I care for you, Father" you retort instantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're working hard to protect us, and I'm thankful for that. I can't even imagine what sacrifices you had to make to turn out like this. But I'm sure you'll never hurt me...at least not intentionally."

He looks down to your wrist, already bruising in several colors, and tenderly lets his thumb ghost over it. "Still, that must've been frightening."

"Did you forget how we meet?" you snort way too carefree, "You basically slaughtered your way through ghouls while laughing like a madman. I always knew what you are, Anderson."

"...you got a kind heart, lamb." He resisted to press a kiss atop of your head, still hearing your feeble snivels. You got a different kind of strenght, one that makes you continue no matter the circumstances. He always admired this about you. "Thanks for leading me through these trying times."

"Just like you did for me." Anderson looks at you for a while longer, and he can't help but think your smile is one of god's greatest miracles.

From this day onwards, the bond you two shared grew even tighter.

Anderson was pleasantly surprised that your courage wasn't just pretend, since the way you acted towards him didn't change in the slightest - even after peeking behind his civilized mask.

What bothers him however is the fact that he cannot seem to stop thinking about you, even when you're far away. Each time he saw you his heart would hammer like a drum in his chest, and suddenly he would lose the ability to form any coherent words.

He must be sick, he thinks. But that was literally impossible. Cursed, maybe? Also no.

Actually, he knew exactly what was going on. He was celibate, usually not prone to affections. But then again, you were special - for better or worse.

So a challenge from god to test his resolve, it is.

You on the other hand were blissfuly unaware of the effect you had on him, though sometimes he felt like you're teasing him on purpose. He'd snap at your friendliness out of nowhere, but quickly apologizes as he can't bear to be the reason for your sadness.

"Hey, big guy" you tug on his coat and he finally looks down, looming over you while scowling. "Are you there?"

"Oi" he murmurs, "You're getting a lil' too comfortable, don'tcha think? I'm still an authorative figure."

You half-pout at his harsh tone, but he's probably right. At least in the public you should treat him with the respect a man of his rank deserves. "I'm sorry, Father..."

"It's fine." The Paladin pats your head to reassure you, yet his gaze always wanders back down to your lips, wondering if they're as soft as they look like-

No. Never. He can't.

"I am needed elsewhere" he frantically shakes his head, hurrying without looking back. "Take care, lamb."

Yes, you're but an innocent lamb for he is a dangerous predator. His soul is already doomed to limbo, but he needs to stay away for your own sake.

"What is his deal lately?" you wonder as you look after him, "Did I do something wrong?"

He behaves even stranger than usual. Barely talks, always buried in thought. Winces whenever you touch, as if he just burned himself on a stove - no, like he was just about to put his hand into hellfire itself.

Noticing the bruise that was currently healing stick out from your sleeve, you figure he must still feel bad about what happened. Ever since that night he seemed so distant, but it was obvious that something was eating him away.

Maybe he just needs more time to understand you accept him with all of his facets.

Anything but acknowledging what turmoil was going on in both your hearts, huh?

It wasn't until a few weeks later, after a particulary bad day, that Anderson would give in to his wish to see you. Another mission had gone south, and talking about it was probably a better way to vent than sticking his bayonett into some poor half-wit.

When he entered the library however, the room was dark and empty. Can't blame you after how he treated you formerly.

He opted to accept your offer to just knock at your door whenever he's in need - something a man of faith like himself would usually say to his believers. It was nice to be at the receiving end for a change, knowing a gentle soul like you wouldn't deny him your help even after he wronged you.

Only when he stood in front of your room he noticed the time - 1am already, middle of the might. You're probably asleep, he shouldn't bother you-

Shuffling from the inside, almost inaudible but not to his keen senses. So you're awake. Good. But just when he was about to knock, the sound of muffled moans reached his ears.

Oh.

Ohhh.

Well, you aren't at fault here. You were raised by heathens, never teached properly. He should leave - no, kick in your door and tell you that this is unacceptable. Or should he tell the nuns to have a talk between women? But then he'd have to explain why he was there in the first place.

"An-der-son...mhh...plea-ah!"

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like a hammer right to his forehead. He fled the scene in an instant, already feeling guilty for eavesdropping, but the sound of your voice moaning his name continued to echo in his head.

"Fuck" he groaned, cupping his erection through his pants as he laid stiffly on his bed. It's been three cold showers but he was still rock hard, and slowly bur steadily his rationality made space for something more primal. He grips the sheets tight, feverishly trying to keep himself from committing a grave mistake.

There certainly wouldn't be a way back once he gave in to those urges.

The church had ingrained to him that lust was something wrong and dirty. He remembers like it was yesterday that the nuns would regulary check whether his and the other children's hands stayed above their blankets all night.

It's been decades without this sinful deed and while yes, he is not immune to temptations, his will had always been stronger than his flesh.

Until now.

None of it was important to him at that moment. He was aching to be touched, no matter how.

With a shuddered breath he freed his cock from it's confines, a whimper he didn't even know he could vocalize escaping his throat. He fiercely grabs the shaft, the angry tip already red and leaking precum.

Anderson is rough with himself, a mixture of inexperience and shame rushing him to make things quick. His mind wanders back to the way you practically begged for him to fuck you, and he'd be lying if the said it was the first time he had entertained such thoughts.

As he strokes himself, his fantasies wander back and forth between sheer worship and concerning punishment, making path for another kind of obsession that would be even harder to overcome than his bloodlust.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to choke you.

He wants to explore every inch of your body. He wants to cover it in whips and bruises.

He wants to make you feel good. He wants to make you repent.

He wants to hear you moan. He wants to hear you scream and beg for forgiveness.

He wants you to never leave his side. He wants to kill you for doing this to him.

He wants to you to be his in every way possible.

He wants-

Anderson utters vile curses as he came, hips bucking into his flexed hand as he covered his fingers, thighs, stomach up to his chest in his spent.

After the waves of his intense orgasm ebbed down however, there is nothing left but emptiness.

He is exasperated, feeling a million things at once: Anger, confusion, shame, loneliness. He should be more worried to have betrayed his oath, but all he could think of is how painfully he misses your warmth.

He hugs his pillow as he mutely weeps himself to sleep.

Several months later, a few days before christmas eve, Anderson was called to an emergency as a demonic entity was causing mayhem at a nearby town.

Why did it have to be an Incubus of all godforsaken things?!

With everything that has been happening as of late, he was rather vulnerable to the fiend's powers. But he'd be damned to refuse an opportunity like that - especially since his mind couldn't conjure any believable excuse that wouldn't at least partially reveal his dirty little secret.

Cutting you out of his life had felt like removing a tumor, slowly corrupting him from the inside but still being a part of himself.

And it grew back even stronger.

The only times he allowed himself to be around you these days was when the orphans were present. He was civil but reserved towards you, and while you never quite understood what you did to deserve such treatment, you never dared asking either.

Deep inside you had a feeling what this was about, but there was nothing you could do or say to return things to how they have been between you.

There's lines one simply shouldn't cross.

Not that you ever intended to, you were happy as things were. But you both had stepped foot into dangerous territory, gradually overstepping the limits that were acceptable.

And truth be told, Anderson still did.

The fact that you were still so sweet and caring towards him despite all of his shortcomings, all the pain he had caused you, it was eating him alive.

And made it impossible for him to stay away.

At least from afar he would seek out your presence, lingering in the shadows or keeping watch over you from the security of his own room. Though he told himself it was just to assure your safety, he felt guilty each time certain urges would overcome him as he spied, becoming more and more depraved in his attempts to feel close to you.

Anderson rubs his temple as he prays the undignified thoughts away, grabbing the small worn-out bagpack he'd always take to missions with him. He sighs in selfy-pity, finding a box with christmas cookies inside. There's a post-it with your handwriting attached to it, something about how it's a present from the children rather than yourself.

What a convenient lie, he thinks.

He takes one out and treats himself, mentally preparing - rather about having to spend the holidays with you than the upcoming fight. But then the loud beeping on his cellphone tears him away from his thoughts, and he freezes as he sees the name on the display.

It was you. A video-call even. Bloody hell.

Now he was glad that you had showed him how to use this fancy new device, instantly shutting off his own camera to not let his guard down.

"Hello? Anderson?" The screen freezes due to bad connection, but eventually it works. You were wearing a santa-hat, one of the infants on your lap waving at him. He can't help but smile at the endearing sight. "Yes, I'm here" he says in a nonetheless harsh tone, "Take that ridiculous thing off of your head. It's blasphemic."

"Well..." quite timid, you rub the back of your head as you point to the baby. "He just has a hard time sleeping, that's all." It sounds like some cheap excuse to call, but he knows you're being genuine. "Calls out for his 'dada' all the time" you chuckle to cover up your hurt pride. After all, you're with the children 24/7 and yet they're way more attached to their beloved Paladin. "Thought seeing-" you stare at the black screen kind of disappointed, "...or hearing you might help him settle."

You overexaggeratedly roll your eyes at the man. "Oh c'mon, don't be such a kill-joy. It's for the kids!" Oh he's had it with you and your flowery nonsense. Last time you almost made him feel bad for some damn protestants, that's how good you were at defending your naivety. "And what'r ya' doing up this late?"

"I hope I didn't disturb you?" Your eyes widen in bewilderment for a fraction, lips forming an O. "Ye' weren't."

"He'll get used to it over time" Anderson states objectively, "You should've seen Maxwell when he was that age. Was carrying that lil' lad for years, clingy one he was."

"Seriously?" You smirk mischievously, having found something to tease your annoying superior with. "I will never let him live this down."

You surrender your phone to the young boy, smiling dreamily as you hear Anderson half-chant to him in that gruff voice of his until it stopped being entertaining for the child. "I'll try bringing him to bed now, but are you free after?"

Anderson pauses for a while. "You should really go to sleep, lamb. You're overworking yourself."

"Just a few minutes, I promise. I don't want to rob you off your well-deserved sleep either" you wink, not knowing he'd rather stay awake than to be haunted by you in his dreams. It takes you longer than anticipated, though, but Anderson was rooted on spot until you called once again. A mere voice-call this time. That's better, easier if he doesn't have to look at you.

"Thanks for waiting" you greet him, but he brushes it off. "Enough chitchat. What do you want?"

There's a crack in your voice at the sharpness of his words, at the edge with which he chooses to speak. "I...figured after all this time, I deserve an answer to why we've drifted apart."

Anderson lets out a short, ragged breath. "Are- are you alright?" you ask, and it somehow enrages him even more. Why are you continuing to make it so hard for him to do the right thing?! He huffs, voice gravely. "Ya neednt worry 'bouta wrench like me."

"And yet I do" you insist, voice a lot smaller when you ask "So, what did I do wrong?"

"I don't think you could ever do something wrong" he admits softer now, insides churning at the saddened crack in your voice. "Even if you wanted to."

"Then why-" Stopping yourself from saying something unwise, you bite your bottom lip. "I miss you, Father. That's all."

It takes everything in him not to whine at the statement, to break down and confess that you're actually the most important person in his entire life. "I miss you too, ya' know?"

He hears you choke on a sob and clutches the phone tighter, clearing his throat in hopes you don't notice how his own voice is wavering. "Really, dear, you did nothing wrong" he repeats, the nickname leaving his lips faster than his mind can catch up on. "I haven't been myself lately" the priest admits an almost-truth, "Thought you were better of without me burdening you."

"When you offered me to stay at the orphanage back in the day, you said the choice was mine. And now I choose you again." You're fully aware how wrong this sounds, but couldn't care less. "You don't have to go through everything alone, Anderson. Let me be at your side."

"I'm a complicated person, Y/N" he argues, dreading that this won't be the last time he'd deliberately hurt you. "Oh, I know that. That's why I like you, after all. You're authentic, and passionate, and have a kind heart. Isn't that all that counts?"

"...I will be done with my work soon, if everything goes as planned. Back home around midnight." You internally jubilate at his subtle compliance. "And I will be here waiting for you, of course."

Anderson's lips tug into a hopeful smile, shoving all concerns into a dark corner of his mind. Oh, how he's missed your voice, your benevolence, your everything. "Yeah, that would be great."

It's alright - the two of you would rather have each other platonic than not at all.

What could possibly go wrong?

[oldiesstationlover11607]

YESS I would love a vampire!tøp fic!! You can have free rein over the plot n what not, I just request that it be Reader x Twenty One Pilots rather than a specific member :)

Real Thing - Vampire!Tyler Joseph + Josh Dun X Reader

Warnings: Vampire stuff, blood, possessive tyler and caretaker josh (i love this dynamic so much hehe)

Word Count: 2211

A/N: I've been looking forward to this :) - def get in those other halloween requests before the month is over!!

Part 2

We were running. The alleyways blurred past us, wet pavement glistening under the dim glow of the streetlights as we darted through the shadows. Tyler was laughing, that wild, reckless sound echoing behind me as his boots slapped against the concrete. Josh was ahead of us, his backpack bouncing against his shoulder, a look of calm determination etched across his face as he led the way.

“Come on!” Tyler called out from behind, his voice carrying over the soft patter of the rain. “You gotta admit, that was fun!”

I didn’t respond, my breath catching in my throat as we turned a corner and sprinted into the open street. The blood bank alarm was still ringing faintly in the distance, a reminder of how close we’d cut it this time. My heart pounded, but not from exhaustion. It was the thrill, the rush of it all—running through the city like this, knowing we’d just stolen something essential to our survival. Something dangerous. And the hunger, always gnawing at the edges of my mind, made everything sharper.

“Fun?” Josh shot back over his shoulder. “You almost got us caught, you idiot.”

Tyler skidded to a stop beside us as we ducked into the alley behind the convenience store. He leaned against the wall, hands on his knees, laughing and shaking his head. “Come on, admit it. You love this life.”

Josh didn’t respond, just dropped the backpack with a sigh and leaned back against the fence, letting the cool night air calm him down. I slowed my steps, catching my breath, feeling the sweat mix with the rain on my skin.

Tyler wiped at his chin, his grin wide and mischievous, blood smeared from the earlier frenzy. “See, no harm done. Now we’ve got enough to last for days. So relax, both of you.”

I watched Josh as he crouched down and unzipped the bag, pulling out a few packs and checking them carefully, like he always did. He didn’t trust anything until he’d inspected it a hundred times. His focus was so intense, his hands moving with a kind of precision that seemed at odds with how exhausted he looked.

Tyler was watching too, that smug look still on his face, arms crossed as he lounged against the wall. “You know,” he said, his voice teasing, “if you weren’t such a stick in the mud, Josh, you might actually enjoy yourself once in a while.”

The night was thick with the scent of the city—the mix of rain-dampened pavement, gasoline, and something darker that always hovered just at the edge of my senses now. I never noticed it before, but that was before everything changed. Now, everything felt sharper, more intense. The world was louder, brighter, and somehow… emptier.

I leaned back against the fence, letting the cool night air brush against my skin. Josh sat next to me, his backpack propped between his legs. I could hear the faint slosh of blood packs inside as he shuffled through them, pulling one out, inspecting it, then sliding it back in. His fingers worked with a strange precision, too controlled for how casual he looked. A light breeze tugged at the edges of his cap, making the red strands of his hair float in the air. 

Tyler sat across from us, lounging on the pavement with his legs sprawled out like he owned the place. There was blood smeared across his chin and hands, drying in the cool air, and yet he was looking at Josh with this pout, his arms crossed like a petulant child. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Come on, man,” Tyler drawled, his voice dripping with that cocky arrogance I’d gotten way too used to. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smearing the blood even more. “You’re hogging it all.”

Josh raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, knowing grin. “You’ve got plenty,” he said, nodding toward Tyler’s blood-smeared face. “Looks like you couldn’t wait.”

Tyler, completely ignoring the fact that he looked like a mess, just shrugged. “I’m just making sure I don’t starve out here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Starve? You literally ate like… twenty minutes ago.”

Tyler flashed me a grin, his fangs just barely visible behind his lips. “Yeah, but I’m a growing vampire. Besides…” His voice dropped, lower, almost teasing. “You know it’s my job to take care of us all. Specifically since I made you.”

“Made me?” I shot back, eyebrows raised. “Please. You sound like Frankenstein.” But my heart sped up slightly, and I knew he could hear it. Tyler always had that effect on me, ever since the night he turned me. And he knew it.

Tyler’s grin only grew wider as he watched my reaction, eyes flicking to my pulse like he could hear it thrumming beneath my skin. “You should be grateful,” he added with a wink. “I made you strong. I made you… more.”

Josh, always the quieter one, shifted beside me. He pulled out a blood pack, his gloved fingers running along the edge before he tore it open with a quick, practiced motion. He handed it to me without a word, his eyes meeting mine for a second. His gaze was intense, but soft, in that way Josh always was. Unlike Tyler, he didn’t brag. He just was.

“Here,” Josh said, his voice low, and as he handed me the bag, his fingertips brushed mine. He always had this way of making everything seem easier, less overwhelming, like the hunger wasn’t about to consume me whole. Tyler had the power, but Josh had the control.

Before I could take the bag, Josh’s hand moved toward my neck, fingers ghosting over the pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t move. His lips were suddenly there, pressing softly against my skin, his breath warm despite the coolness of the night. His teeth dragged lightly along my neck, the sharp tips grazing my skin—not enough to break it, just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Josh…” I whispered, but he didn’t pull away immediately. His lips lingered, a quiet reminder of what we were. What I was. Except I was already turned, already claimed by the darkness, so the sensation was more taunting than anything.

He pulled back just slightly, his breath teasing my skin as he murmured, “You need to eat.” His lips quivered into a faint smile as he handed me the now-opened pack of blood. “Here.”

I took the pack from him, feeling the cool liquid shift inside. My throat burned in anticipation, but I hesitated, caught between the odd pull of Josh’s lingering touch and the hunger that gnawed at the back of my mind. I pressed the plastic to my lips, taking a slow sip. The taste flooded my mouth—rich, metallic, more familiar than it should have been by now. But it wasn’t just hunger that kept me grounded here.

Tyler was watching us, his smirk still plastered across his face, though there was something more dangerous behind his eyes now. Possessive, almost. Like he was reminding himself that, no matter how close Josh got, I was still his first. Tyler leaned back, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, his gaze drifting to the half-empty blood pack in my hand. His tongue ran over his lips, and his fangs caught in the dim light of the streetlamp overhead.

“Don’t you miss it, though?” Tyler mused, wiping at his mouth again, though the blood just smeared further. He wasn’t even trying to clean it off anymore. “Fresh from the source? There’s nothing like it. This stuff,” he waved a hand lazily at the pack in my hand, “it’s just… not the same. It’s like drinking stale water compared to a full-on rush.”

Josh let out a quiet sigh, pulling another pack from his bag. His fingers tore the edge open with the same smooth precision, but there was tension in his movements now, subtle but noticeable if you paid attention. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re trying to avoid killing people, remember?”

Tyler rolled his eyes, but there was something darker behind them now, a flicker of irritation. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He glanced up at the night sky, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not tempting. All that warmth, that heartbeat, the way it pulses right under your skin…” He trailed off, eyes unfocused, clearly lost in the memory.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words press against the back of my mind. That craving, the raw hunger—it was always there, just beneath the surface, no matter how much blood we drank from the packs. The thirst for something fresher, more alive, gnawed at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Tyler knew it too. He lived for that temptation, always testing the line between control and indulgence.

But Josh? Josh was different. He wasn’t driven by the same hunger that Tyler was. He had control, a balance I hadn’t quite mastered yet.

“Look,” Josh said, breaking the silence. His eyes flicked to Tyler, then back to me. “Stealing from blood banks isn’t glamorous, I get it. But it’s the next best thing without leaving a trail of bodies behind us.” His voice softened, almost like he was trying to ground us both. “We’re not monsters.”

Tyler snorted. “Speak for yourself, man. When was the last time you looked in the mirror?”

I cackled, unable to keep it in. Josh’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he shifted his weight and sat back against the fence, watching me carefully as I took a slow sip from the pack. His eyes lingered on the way my throat moved, the way my lips parted just slightly, savoring the taste even though we both knew it wasn’t the same from a bag.

Tyler leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You know, I bet she’d feel the same way if she tasted it straight from the source. Right?” He cocked his head at me, his eyes narrowing in a mix of curiosity and challenge. “You’ve never actually fed like that, have you?”

I hesitated, my grip tightening around the blood pack. I hadn’t. Not yet. And he knew that. The thought of sinking my teeth into someone, feeling their pulse under my mouth, the heat of their blood rushing out in a torrent—it terrified and intrigued me in equal measure.

Josh’s hand rested on my shoulder before I could even respond, his touch grounding me, his fingers gentle but firm. “She doesn’t need to,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “We’re not going down that road.”

Tyler’s eyes darkened, his lips twisting into a smirk. “You’re so righteous, man. Always trying to play the good guy.” He leaned back again, arms stretching out behind him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “But it’s in us. You can’t deny it forever.”

“Maybe not,” Josh replied, his voice steady. “But I’m not giving in, either. We don’t have to.”

The tension between them crackled like electricity, a quiet battle of wills that hung heavy in the air. I stayed quiet, caught in the middle, unsure of where I stood. Tyler’s words, his cocky grin, they all called to something deeper inside me, something primal that I wasn’t sure I could ignore forever. But Josh’s calm, his unwavering control—it felt safer. It felt right.

Tyler finally broke the silence, chuckling softly under his breath. “Fine, whatever. You two keep playing the saintly vampires, stealing from blood banks, pretending you don’t want more. But one day…” His grin widened, eyes gleaming with something almost predatory. “One day, you’ll both realize you’re still hungry.”

Josh didn’t respond, just handed me another blood pack, already opened. His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I could feel the weight of his quiet promise. He wasn’t going to let me slip, no matter how strong the temptation got. He was determined to keep me grounded, even if it meant fighting Tyler’s influence every step of the way.

Tyler stood up, brushing the dust off his jeans, still wearing that smirk like a mask. “Well, if you two are done being boring, I’m gonna head out. See if I can find something a little more… exciting.” His gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer before he turned on his heel, hands stuffed in his pockets as he sauntered off into the night.

I watched him disappear into the shadows, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy fog. The hunger inside me stirred, restless, but I pushed it down, swallowing hard against the urge to follow.

Josh sighed, shifting beside me, his gaze softening as he watched Tyler’s retreating figure. “He’s always like that,” he said quietly. “Testing boundaries. But you don’t have to follow him.”

I nodded, but the hunger still gnawed at the edges of my mind, a constant reminder of what I was now. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I knew Tyler was right about one thing.

I was still hungry.

//

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