#so foolishly unaware!!!!!!

[alphabetboyluvr]

Can I request jungkook talking about how much he likes byeol to jimin? Or smth that shows jk pining after her heheh

🪩 WORDCOUNT | 827 (i am incapable of keeping things short (!)) 🪩 NOTE FROM HOLLY | i’d argue this is more fawning than pining, but i wanted it to be fairly early on in the narrative!! We have a small time skip during BD #6 - i think it belongs in there!! maybe a little later!! idk!!

🪩 BD DRABBLES MASTERPOST 🪩

“Was different last night, wasn’t it?” Jungkook mindlessly hums as he picks at the leftover pizza on the coffee table. Doesn’t even really want it. Just wants the perfectly circular pepperoni that’s embedded in the top of the slice, but eventually decides against it, knowing it’s been sitting out for way too long. 

“Hm?” Jimin grumbles from the sofa, scrolling on his phone, paying Jungkook very little attention.

Jimin's still a bit hungover, but The Notebook has been watched already, and a Powerade has been inhaled at such a speed Jungkook thought it’d come right back out through his nose. He’s as good as he’ll get for the remainder of the day.

Just back from the gym, Jungkook is in far better shape than Jimin is right now - but it makes sense. He was behind the bar last night, just like he is most nights.

“DB’s glitter,” Jungkook adds, as if that would have been a logical conclusion for Jimin to have reached from his vague questioning. Fails to realise it's only him with the constant thoughts of you. “Was different, wasn’t it?”

Chunkier, he thinks. More noticeable, or at least, easier to count the flecks. 

Still pretty. Always pretty. 

“Y’know, she was joking that it’s a men repellent,” Jungkook smiles fondly, remembering the way you always shine underneath the lights of Dionysus. “How mad is that? Glitter? Men repellent? Makes no sense.” 

He fails to realise that your comments are less about attraction, more about men who like to act without thinking of consequences. Glitter leaves a trace - of which Jungkook’s learned the easy way, his pillows still saturated in teeny tiny sparkles from that one time you crashed in his room. 

Those traces become evidence. Keeps the men with girlfriends away, and warns off the pathetic excuses of men who don’t understand boundaries. Less of man repellent, more of a scumbag barrier.

It’s also fun to be a walking disco ball, which is your primary reason for coating yourself in the stuff, even if the nickname is slightly less than favourable. You give them all glares whenever you hear it, but you only blush when it’s Jungkook saying the magic words.

“Always notice it,” Jungkook continues, a little smile resting on his boyish lips. As he toys with his lip ring, it glistens in the mid-morning light. “Glitter, I mean. Whenever girls come to the bar, now. If they’re wearing glitter, I’m always like, ‘Huh. You’re probably fun.’ Not in, like, a weird way. Just that… maybe they’re like DB. Y’know?”

“Mhmm,” Jimin agrees. “Fun, yeah.”

“No one else wears it better, though,” Jungkook praises. Is utterly lost in memories of you from the night before.

The way you had giggled every time a Purple Starfucker was passed over the bar. The messy space buns you'd had in your hair, and how there was even glitter in them. The pout you'd given him as you'd said goodbye, and the way Danbi had literally dragged you to the door, those cosmic calamities you like to call eyes still on him.

Smiling, as if he's just won an eBay bid for another 'sculpture' to add to his collection, Jungkook mindlessly continues his train of thought.

“DB just… well, she is glitter, isn’t she? Like a… Like a little shooting star. I always think that, y’know. Whenever she’s in the club. Just zooming about like a little shooting star.” 

His smile is so sweet, eyes so sparkly - just like they always are whenever he thinks of you.

“You’ve got a zoom meeting?” Jimin finally looks up from his phone, expression a little vacant. “With who?”

“What?”

“Sorry, were you talking?” Jimin bares his teeth a little awkwardly. Hadn’t been listening at all. Hadn’t even realised he’d been responding.

Had been too engrossed in a 5-Minute Crafts video. Was far more interested in seeing how they’d turn a pair of shoelaces into a pencil - resin is how, and an industrial size drill that no regular household would ever need. Disappointing. Still, he’d watched the entire thing.

“Did you hear anything I said?” Jungkook frowns, yet to realise that it’s a blessing in disguise. Jimin would never let it go.

“...Yes?”

The roll of Jungkook’s eyes is subtle as he heads into his bedroom. Has an assignment to finish off. Can’t be dilly-dallying, fawning over fuckin’ glitter.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls back, just before he turns into his room. “You and DB… that’s like… that’s not a thing, right?”

“DB?” Jimin glances over to Jungkook, curious by his line of questioning. Shakes his head. “Nothing more than what it was.”

“So you guys aren’t, like…”

Hooking up? Mutually interested? Intending on round two?

“Why?” Jimin smirks, not needing him to finish. “You got a crush?”

“No,” Jungkook defends almost too quickly. “Just curious. S’all.”

“No,” Jimin mimics. Jungkook groans, slamming his door shut, which just earns a laugh from his housemate. Doesn’t believe him for a second. “Just curious.”

“SHUT UP!” 

Jimin laughs again, then shakes his head. Is quiet, as he mutters to himself. “Cute.”

[punkshort]

Don't Give Up On Me

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader (materialists)

Summary: Should you give up on the man you love when he disappoints you, or do you give him another chance?

Warnings: language, tons of angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, hurt/comfort, making men beg and cry

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

A/N: sorry if this is premature. I can't help it. If we got his name wrong I'll just go back and fix it later okay byeeee

Tears that have been burning the backs of your eyes for the last two hours finally threaten to spill down your cheeks now that you're in the privacy of his town car.

Harry sits next to you, still talking on his phone like he has been all night while his driver takes you back to his penthouse. It's nestled in the heart of the city with a breathtaking view, but it's the very last place you want to be right now because you know what you'll have to do once you get there.

You're going to end things, once and for all.

It's been on your mind for a while, but you always talk yourself out of it. You make excuses for him, cover for him, and lie to him when you say it doesn't matter, but it does. It really fucking does.

You know he's a busy man. You've always known this. But foolishly, some part of you believed he would change. That after countless fights, he would eventually understand what's important to you, and it wasn't his money or his things — it was him.

All you ever want is for him to just be there when it counts, and he almost always lets you down. But tonight? Tonight was special. He knew it, too. You told him for weeks how excited you were to receive this award for all the hard work at your firm.

When it came time to accept it and give your speech in front of three hundred people, you excitedly climbed to the stage to take your prize. Your eyes swept around the room, searching for the only person you wanted to see, and your heart sunk when you realized he had stepped out of the room to take a work call.

Again.

It was in that moment you decided you wouldn't put up with it again.

The car stops in the usual spot outside his building. The driver opens your door and you slip out with a tight smile. Harry's right behind you, wrapping up his call, but you ignore him. You charge into the lobby and stab at the call button for the elevator. If he notices your anger, he doesn't let on. He laughs to whoever is on the other end while you adjust the strap of your dress with a huff.

Once the elevator arrives, he finally hangs up. You step inside and he presses in the code for the penthouse on the keypad, then the car smoothly lifts. You stare at the screen above the door while Harry scrolls on his phone, still completely unaware when he asks, "What's your boss's name again?"

You clench your jaw and fight back tears before you answer him. He grunts.

"Thought so. Went to Yale with him. Never liked the guy."

Your award feels so much heavier in your hand now. Like it's trying to pull you back down to the lobby and stop you from doing what you need to do. But you adjust it and lift your chin a little higher — you need to do this.

The doors slide open to Harry's massive, extravagant living room. You step out and walk right past it all — past the ornate kitchen, the priceless art, the expensive marble — through the long, perfectly decorated hallway to his bedroom.

You go right to the closet and grab an empty gym bag, tossing your award inside. You hear him somewhere in the room removing his watch, cufflinks and ring while you stuff your bag with whatever clothes you can think of. It's only when you exit the closet and storm into the bathroom that he notices something is wrong.

"What are you doing?"

You sniffle and sweep your toiletries off the counter, tossing them directly into your bag.

"I'm leaving."

Your voice is a little shaky but it sounds better than you expect. He watches you from the doorway as you move erratically around the room collecting your belongings.

"Wh— why?" he finally asks. You're grabbing your things from the shower when you hear it. He sounds sad, and maybe if it were any other day, you would have felt bad. But that day? That day, it just pisses you off.

You whirl back around and drop your bag on the floor to pin him with a glare. He's in the doorway still wearing the clothes from tonight: pressed black pants and a crisp white shirt, although now the collar is undone and his tie is abandoned somewhere in his bedroom.

"Why?" you repeat. Your tone is so icy, you hardly recognize it. "You — weren't — fucking — there!"

On the last word, you step forward and shove him. He stumbles backwards a bit, but only from shock.

"Baby—"

You shake your head and lean down grab your bag.

"Don't," is all you say when you brush past him. You throw the bag on your bed, half the contents spilling out, but you don't care. You're shaking like a leaf when you round the bed to your side and begin to grab your things from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry," he says softly from the other side of the room. You ignore him and keep working. "It was important. I told you—"

"And this was important to me!"

You snap your head up to yell at him with tears streaming down your face. His expression falls and he reaches out, but you take a step back.

"You're right. I'm — I'm sorry. I'll do better, I prom—"

"No! I'm done! I'm tired of having the same fights with you. I was so fucking stupid to think you'd ever choose me over... over all this."

You gesture broadly around his room but you mean his penthouse in general. He gets it. It's not the first time you've fought over this.

He watches you quietly while you continue to pack with shaky hands. When you're nearly done, he speaks again.

"I do want you," he says, "more than all this. I just — I want to make sure we're comfortable. I want to make sure we have enough so you never have to work again—"

"But I like working! I love what I do! I've never wanted to quit, I've never wanted anything from you... not your money or your cars or your clothes. I just..."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I only ever wanted you," you mumble.

You bury your face in your hands as he crosses the room. You feel him standing in front of you and you know deep down, you're done for.

But still, you try.

"You have me," he says. His hands gently slide up and down your arms, but you keep your face hidden in your palms. "It won't always be like this. It's the busy season, that's all. It's... it's temporary. And then we can do whatever you want. We can go to Paris or Italy or Bora Bora... anywhere. It's up to you."

He takes another step closer and carefully plants a kiss to the top of your head. And you fucking let him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he breathes. Your hands drop to your sides. "I should've been there, you're absolutely right. I'll never do something like that again, you have my word."

You sigh and finally tip your chin up to look him in the eye. It's kind of not fair how handsome he is on top of everything else: a thick head of wavy dark hair, gorgeous brown eyes, a greying beard he's self-conscious about but you find absolutely endearing. If there was one man on the planet who had it all, it's Harry Castillo.

He gives you a small smile and pinches your chin between his fingers when he sees your resolve crumbling.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks.

You take a deep breath and try to scrape together what dignity you have left.

"No," you reply. His smile falters but otherwise he doesn't move. You take a step back but it's not far enough.

"I told you. I'm done."

Right when you go to turn and pick up your bag, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Please," he begs, gazing up at you from the floor. Your eyes widen with shock at this man who is quite literally worth billions falling to his knees, pleading with you to stay. "Don't go. I'll do anything. Please, I-I can't — I won't be —"

"Harry—"

"Please," he says again, urgently. You see his throat bob and his eyes fill with tears. "I'll do whatever you want. I-I just— I don't think I can do this—"

He swallows and presses his face against your stomach. His eyes slide closed and he breathes in deep while you're still struggling to catch up.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, but this time, his hands tighten around your waist. His jaw falls open and he mouths at your middle while a tear sneaks down his cheek.

It shouldn't affect you. You should push him away, take your bag, and go. Instead, you find yourself leaning forward into his hold.

"Harry..."

Your voice holds no conviction. His hands begin to move. They slide down your legs and push up the hem of your dress. He leaves feverish open mouthed kisses across your clothed stomach and over your hips. Your eyes fall shut and you gasp when his palms slide up your bare legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress until his fingers grab hold of your ass and he gives you a rough squeeze.

"Please," he's murmuring, over and over. Your jaw is slack and you give in. You just fucking give in when he pulls down on your panties until they drop to the floor. With shaky legs, you step out of them and crack open an eye when he tosses the lace over his shoulder.

You're weak. You know that. But you really thought this time was the last straw. Instead, he somehow has you underneath him once again. Your dress is in a sad little pile on the floor, along with his pants. His tongue is dancing hungrily with yours as you push his shirt over his shoulders.

You know you should have stood your ground, but you also know he's hurt. He's so broken and you want to fix him. You want to be the one who shows him what it's like — what it could be like. You want to prove that love can heal old wounds and can be beautiful, if you let it.

He groans when he first enters you. It's low and deep and it makes you gasp. His teeth graze your jaw and he whispers everything you want to hear: that he loves you, that he would do anything for you, that he's sorry. You let those words fill you up and mend the wounds he caused, just like all the other times before.

"Never again, okay?"

You nod and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. You say his name with a breathy moan and his hips flex faster, deeper.

"I can be good for you. I— I — fuck—"

He pushes your knees to your chest and you cry out. The angle is so much more intense. It has you clawing at the sheets and mumbling unintelligible curses under your breath as he splits you open, reminding you just how good it can be.

"I won't hurt you ever again," he babbles. Your chest aches. Your eyes water. He keeps fucking you so deep that it has you making noises you never heard yourself make before.

"I don't think — don't think I can d-do this without — you," he groans into your neck. Your nails scrape down his back. You throw your head backwards into the sheets and let him do what he does best: make you feel good and forget all the pain.

His mouth finds your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You moan and his tongue slips inside, licking past your teeth. He's so close. Your bodies practically melt together as one with each steady rock of his hips.

"Feels good, right?" he groans into your mouth. You nod and gasp when the muscles in your stomach begin to pull.

"Yes," you whine, all earlier anger forgotten.

"Yeah, I know," he coos. His hips snap faster, cock plunging deeper until the room is filled with your helpless moans and the sounds of your soaked pussy gushing all around him. He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when you clench tightly around his thick cock.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks. You whimper, cheeks blazing hot and body slick with sweat. He chuckles breathlessly and continues to drive himself into you, over and over. "Yeah, c'mon, it's alright. I wanna feel it — I need to feel it. C'mon, baby, just—"

Before he can finish his sentence, your muscles spasm and you scream out his name. A litany of curses falls from your lips as you pulse around his painfully hard length. He grinds his teeth and keeps fucking you through it until your body goes limp and you melt into the silk sheets.

His arms circle around you and he really begins to fuck you — hard. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt until his cock swells and he comes inside you with a loud, strangled groan.

He collapses on top of you in relief. He occasionally jolts forward, giving you more of his release with each weak roll of his hips until he's spent. His head falls to your chest and he closes his eyes to catch his breath. Your fingers come up to gently rake through his hair and you lay just like that, silent and panting for air while his cock softens inside of you.

"I mean it," he rasps. You peel your eyes open and stare at the ceiling. He presses a soft kiss in the spot between your breasts when he says, "I'll be better. I won't fuck up again. Please, just — just don't give up on me."

Your arms coil around his neck and you hold him close as tears fill your eyes, now for an entirely different reason. You know he's been hurt before. Know what he went through and how badly she broke his heart.

But to his credit, he didn't give up. He kept searching for love, despite it all.

Nobody's perfect. You're far from it. But you know Harry has a good heart. He just needs a little extra care to heal it.

"Okay," you whisper.

You feel his grateful, hot tears pool silently against your chest and you hold him a little tighter.

Everyone makes mistakes, you think. Even the ones who love you the most.

It'll take time. It might hurt. But you'll keep trying. Because what happened wasn't his fault, and you both deserve to have a happy ending.

Some people just have to work a little harder for it.

[mariasont]

hii, i love how your brain works so muuuch! this is my first time requesting something, but could you maybe write a story where reader is pretty intelligent and in a relationship with hotch, and they both get invited to dinner at readers house, but her whole family is also really smart and a bit condescending to reader (maybe because she's the youngest sibling or something?) and she feels inadequate but hotch notices and reassures her/defends her? if you can't or you want to take the story in a different way it's totally okay, i would love to read whatever you write!

Sum of Their Expectations - A.H

hotch had thought meeting your family was just another formality, an inevitable step in your relationship. but after an evening with them he realizes two things — they will never deserve you, and you will never have to face them alone again.

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: toxic family dynamics, self-worth issues, verbal and emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort, happy ending! a little hint to their being an age gap but wc: 1.5k

You were always the sun in any room. Aaron had learned that early, long before he ever kissed you, before he let himself admit how much he wanted to. You were warmth and sharp wit, laughter wrapped in resilience. A person who could mold tragedy in your hands and soften its jagged edges, who could make a stranger feel like they belonged. You are brilliant, too, effortlessly so, in a way that never felt like arrogance. And yet, at this table, surrounded by the people who should know you best, you are quiet. 

You look small. He had never seen you try to take up less space before, had never seen your hands tremble when you reach for a glass of wine.

And he had never, never felt the kind of anger he was feeling now. This anger was different. It was personal.

This was anger with nowhere to go but toward the people sitting across from him, completely unaware he was already deciding exactly how he was going to make them regret underestimating you.

“She’s always been a bit of a dreamer,” your mother says, swirling her wine in slow circles. “Never really settled on what she wanted to do. But I suppose some people just take longer to figure things out.”

Aaron’s grip on his fork tightens, the pressure building until he swears he can fill the silver bend. He wonders if they even listen to themselves. If they realize how easily they strip you down, whittle you down to something unfinished. As if you are lost. As if you have not created a space for yourself in a world that demands proof of existence, proof of value, at every goddamn turn.

You laugh, but it’s not real. It’s that too-bright, too-sharp laugh that he’s heard you use only when you’re uncomfortable, when you don’t want to cause a scene. And he sees it — your fingers, the way they pick at the edge of your napkin, twisting and twisting until the fabric begins to fray. You also do that sometimes, when you’re nervous, but it’s frantic now.

He covers your hand with his own. His grip steady and grounding. The way he hopes to be for you. And when your eyes finally lift to his, something splinters inside him. 

You look ashamed.

Ashamed. Like you are the one who has done something wrong. Like their careless words, their thoughtless cruelty, are yours to answer for. 

The creeping anger that has been simmering in his veins sharpens into something lethal.

Because you had told him you didn’t want to come. 

Not in words, not directly. But you had given him plenty else — the slight pause before answering, the too-quick way you brushed off the suggestion, the way you changed the subject as if the thought of it left a bad taste in your mouth.

He had thought — foolishly, selfishly — that it was nothing more than the usual reluctance that came with family. That maybe it was the age difference, or his job, or the natural intimidation that came with being in a relationship with someone like him. And he had assured you that all families had their dysfunction, that he wanted to meet yours, wanted to understand the people who had shaped you.

He had even dared to picture them as the ones he would ask for their blessing one day, imagined the moment when he would look them in the eyes and promise them that no one — no one — would ever love you like he did. 

Now, all he can think is that he should have listened. That your reluctance wasn’t just shyness or discomfort — it had been foresight. And he had ignored it.

“And then, of course, she’s always been a bit… sensitive,” your mother muses again, dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth, eyes flicking toward you. “Not always the easiest to reason with, you know. I imagine that must be frustrating for you, Aaron, given your line of work.”

“She’s not difficult to reason with,” he says, gaze like steel.  “She just doesn’t cater to people who mistake condescension for conversation. I imagine that must be frustrating for you.”

Your father barely begins to form a word before Aaron moves.

It’s not rushed. There’s no aggression in the way he stands, no dramatic scrape of his chair against the hardwood, no flash of temper. The cloth from his lap is placed neatly onto the table, then, without a word, he reaches for your jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he says. “It’s a shame the company didn’t live up to it.”

His tone is mild, almost polite — but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it, a sharpness so cleanly delivered it might almost take them a moment to realize they’ve been cut.

You move too quickly, nearly knocking your chair in your rush to follow him. Your hands are unsteady as you smooth down your jacket, blinking rapidly, breath uneven. You’re embarrassed. Still trying to hold it together. Still trying to make it easier for them.

He waits just a second, just long enough to see if anyone at this table will reach for you, will say something that resembles an apology, will make any effort at all to fix what they’ve done.

No one does.

He exhales slowly, his patience burned to embers. 

“It’s a remarkable thing,” he muses. “To sit across from people allegedly so intelligent and see just how little they understand.”

He doesn’t stay long enough to watch the words land. He’s already turning away, already steering you toward the door, already making sure you never have to sit at this table again.

The air outside is still, cold enough that your breath fogs in front of you, but you don’t react to it. You just stand there, shoulders drawn up, arms wrapped around yourself, staring down at the pavement.

You swallow hard, glance up at him, then back down again. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s a whisper, small and broken, and when you glance at him again, your expression makes his stomach plummet. “I didn’t mean to drag you into all that.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away. He can’t.

Because this isn’t you.

The person he loves is all light. You’re the one who insists on adding extra sugar to his coffee because he works too hard to drink something that bitter. The one who gets excited about little things – new stationery, a good book, the way the leaves change in the fall. The one who somehow makes him smile more than he ever thought possible.

He wants to turn back, wants to go inside and say something that will make them feel even a fraction of what they made you feel.

But you need him more than his rage does. 

“Hey.” He waits until your eyes meet his. “You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe them anything either.”

Your breath is uneven. “I just —”

Aaron nearly speaks, his throat tightens with the effort of holding himself back. Because he already knows what you’re about to say. He knows you’ll try to justify their words, to explain away the way they made you feel.

He wants to stop you before you do it, to tell you that you don’t have to make it more bearable for them.

But then he remembers how many times they spoke over you tonight. How many times they disregarded your words, your voice, your feelings.

He won’t be another person who does that. So he presses his lips together, forces himself to wait, and listens.

“I just didn’t want you to see that.” Your fingers twist at the hem of your sleeve. “I didn’t want you to see them like that.”

Aaron moves before you can pull away, hands gliding down your sides as he gathers you against him, pressing you into his chest. His lips find your forehead, lingering there as he inhales deeply.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “There is nothing about you I would ever want to unsee.”

You sag into him, fingering the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“This isn’t about you,” he says simply. “It never has been.”

You tense slightly against him, and he softens his tone.

“Your parents — people like them — they don’t see you as an individual. They see you as a reflection of themselves, an extension of their own achievements, their own expectations. And when you don’t fit into that mold, they don’t adjust their perception — they try to change you instead.”

His hands slide back up, cradling your face. “That’s their flaw. Not yours.”

A shaky breath escapes you, and you offer a weak, tired smile. “I wish they could see me the way you do.”

“They should.” Aaron’s grip tightens, not harsh, just sure. “But their failure to do so doesn’t make you any less incredible.”

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. “You know, you keep complimenting me like this, and I’m going to start thinking you have a thing for me.”

He laughs at that.

“If you’re done questioning my affections,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “I’d like to take my very incredible girlfriend home now.”

And when you huff a small laugh, squeezing your fingers around his lapels once more, he thinks — yeah. That’s better.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[batmanlovesnirvana]

‘marriage of convenience.’

BRUCE WAYNE X FEM!READER

ONE SHOT | smut, minors DNI.

synopsis : In a marriage of convenience, emotions were never part of the plan, yet they’ve begun to surface. You’ve always wanted to be a mother, but uncertainty hangs in the air. Your husband has four sons … why would he want another with someone who was never meant to stay?

A/N: This one’s a bit longer because I’m focusing on building up the pace, but I promise it’s worth it … or at least, I hope so! I didn’t specify which version of Bruce Wayne I used, so feel free to picture your favorite! I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but I’m a sucker for this plot, and I haven’t seen many similar ones with Bruce, sooo… here we go I guess ? Also, English isn’t my first language, so apologies in advance for any mistakes <3

THE MASTER BEDROOM felt both too big and too small at once, filled with walls of unspoken words and silences that grew louder each night.

Nine months had passed since you’d agreed to this marriage with Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s most enigmatic billionaire by day and its silent guardian by night. He had told you his reasons, vague as they were, and you had yours.

Still, it was a marriage of convenience — a carefully orchestrated arrangement that left you perpetually feeling out of place, knowing it could end at any moment.

It wasn’t as if you’d come from wealth, either. Your life before Gotham was modest, middle-class, and worlds away from Bruce’s fortune and the grandeur of Gotham’s elite.

This marriage was supposed to be a shield, a calculated protection from some gang’s threat, leaked just enough to the Justice League to ensure Bruce’s intervention. Beyond that, the reasons were murky, known only to him.

But hey, you were married to a billionaire, at least for now. If nothing else, it would make for one unforgettable line on your résumé.

Through the vanity mirror, you watched him, absorbed in his meticulous ritual of dressing for the gala. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as he adjusted his cufflinks with a focus that held you captive every time.

The tailored suit framed his broad shoulders perfectly, narrowing to his trim waist, offering fleeting glimpses of the muscles shifting beneath his skin. His jaw was set, and a few unruly strands of dark hair fell just above his eyes as he tightened his tie.

Those blue eyes. God, they were enough to undo you.

You forced yourself to look away, turning to your own reflection, hoping it would quiet the ache swelling in your chest.

But it didn’t.

No matter how often you told yourself you were fine with the space between you, a quiet longing lingered—a need to be more than just an arrangement, more than a convenience.

The feeling ran deeper than you’d ever admit—far beyond the desire you tried to bury.

You wanted him to want you—truly, fully, unreservedly, and completely.

Foolishly, you even dreamed of children. His children. But you reminded yourself it was just that—a dream. He already had five sons, and one day, he’d likely find someone better suited to his world.

You swallowed the ache and tied the silk robe firmly around your waist, applying a final touch of red lipstick and smoothing your glossy hair into place.

The dress, lying in wait on the bed, was a sleek masterpiece that clung to every curve. You couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of his reaction, even if it was silly. Ridiculous, you scolded yourself. Pathetic, really, to hope he might notice.

With a nervous breath, you slipped off the robe and began to step into the gown, unaware that he was watching, his gaze tracing your every movement.

Bruce adjusted his cufflinks, stealing a glance from the corner of his eye as you bent down, the delicate fabric of your lingerie tracing every curve. The lace hugged your body perfectly, emphasizing the soft curve of your hips and the tempting line of your back. His fingers paused, the tightening in his chest mirrored by a tension lower that was hard to ignore.

With a clenched jaw, he forced his gaze away, willing himself to focus elsewhere—yet the image of you lingered, vivid and consuming, stirring something he’d long buried, something he wasn’t sure he could ignore much longer.

Finally, you slipped into the dress, smoothing it over your curves before looking up to meet his gaze in the mirror.

The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable; his usual restraint had slipped, revealing a raw hunger that sent a thrill through you.

His gaze traveled slowly, savoring the way the fabric hugged your silhouette, lingering on the curve of your hips, the bare expanse of your collarbone, and the soft line of your chest.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened, and you felt the weight of his attention like a touch, his restraint fraying at the edges.

Your breath caught as you held his gaze, the tension between you thick and electric, an unspoken pull that left your heart pounding. You’d never felt his eyes on you like this—an intensity that thrilled and unsettled you, setting every nerve alight.

Bruce looked away abruptly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his gaze dark with something he clearly fought to contain.

Yet you could still feel the heat of his gaze lingering on your skin, and a forbidden question lingered in your mind—what would happen if he finally let himself surrender?

You tried to ignore the thrill that raced through your mind, focusing instead on slipping into your dress. But as you reached behind to pull up the zipper, your fingers faltered.

Clearing your throat, you took a steadying breath. “Could you, um… help me with this?”

In a few long strides, Bruce was behind you, his presence filling the mirror as he met your gaze. He reached for the zipper, his touch feather-light, and the brush of his fingers against your bare back sent an involuntary shiver through you.

His movements were unhurried, almost tentative, as if savoring the excuse to be this close. His fingertips lingered a fraction longer than necessary against the base of your spine, rough yet gentle, leaving warmth in their wake.

You couldn’t help the subtle arch of your back at his touch, pressing just close enough that your bodies brushed, igniting a spark that flared dangerously between you.

His breath ghosted against your neck, his eyes lowering to the bare skin exposed before him. And for a breathless moment, his hands lingered, hovering near your shoulders, as though wrestling with the urge to pull you closer.

Then, he stepped back, clearing his throat, the moment dissolving, leaving an ache in its place.

The two of you had never been intimate. On nights when he wasn’t patrolling, you shared a bed, but there was a boundary neither of you had dared to cross.

You had never… been with anyone, and while you weren’t ashamed of your virginity, it was a private matter, something you didn’t feel ready to share with him.

As for Bruce, once Gotham’s most eligible playboy, he’d shed that image completely since the marriage—a surprise to the public, but a quiet relief to you.

Yet, a small part of you wondered if he’d been with anyone else since you’d exchanged vows. The thought tightened your chest with a pang of jealousy you tried to ignore, a feeling that only grew stronger as the months went on.

“You look… breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice rough, as though he had to push the words past some unseen barrier. His warm breath brushed against your neck, and a shiver trailed down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

The sincerity in his tone pierced through the walls you’d carefully constructed, the tenderness resonating deeper than you expected.

“Thank you.” Your voice sounded softer than you intended, and you turned from the mirror to face him, finding his face only inches away from yours.

You let your hand drift to his shoulder, where he’d been wounded just the night before—a jagged slice you’d barely managed to patch up in the early hours before dawn, despite his protests. The paramedic in you had insisted on cleaning and dressing it properly, even if he brushed off your concern.

Absently, you brushed your fingers over the clothed spot, feeling the muscles flex beneath your touch as you assessed for any tension or pain. “And you… you don’t look too bad yourself,” you managed, offering a soft smile.

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile—the kind he usually reserved for his family—and warmth blossomed within you. You felt… safe, desired in a way that transcended the formalities of your arrangement.

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, your fingers lingering as they traced small circles over the fabric.

“Almost healed,” he replied, his eyes softening. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture so tender it nearly unraveled you. The warmth of his fingers sent a thrill skittering across your skin, lingering long after his hand fell away.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the unsaid words that hung between you.

For a heartbeat, you almost dared to believe that he felt something deeper too. But then he stepped back, creating a measured distance that returned him to the safety of formality, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

You stepped back as well, the warmth of his touch still imprinted on your skin, and took a shaky breath. "Well, we should get going," you said softly, striving to regain your composure, to suppress the surge of longing that clung to every part of you he’d touched.

But Bruce held your gaze, the tension in the air so thick you could almost taste it.

He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it, casting one last lingering glance over you before slipping on his suit coat. "Of course," he replied, his tone as stoic as ever, as if nothing had happened. "Tonight is important."

With a final breath to steady yourself, you began to put on your high heels, fastening your earrings and necklace before spritzing on a hint of perfume. As you donned your fur coat and grabbed your clutch, you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Bruce was waiting by the door, his posture relaxed yet alert, a man ready for the evening’s demands.

You stepped beside him, and for a moment, you both stood silently, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, as if the night held the potential to change everything.

The grand staircase was silent as you descended, the soft tap of your heels against the marble echoing through the empty expanse of Wayne Manor.

With Alfred away visiting family in England and the boys off with friends, the mansion felt hollow tonight, every corner draped in shadows and stillness.

Outside, Bruce’s sleek sports car waited, polished and gleaming under the foyer lights.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you, his eyes catching yours with a warmth that made your stomach flutter.

You slid into the car, smoothing your dress as you settled in, and he rounded the vehicle to take his place behind the wheel.

As the engine purred to life and Bruce eased onto the long driveway, the question gnawed at you again, sharper this time.

It had been weeks, maybe even months, building inside you—a silent hope that had somehow turned into a constant hum in the back of your mind.

You wanted to ask him about children, about whether he’d ever want to start a family. The words hovered in your chest, heavy as stones, weighing down your heart until they ached.

You could almost hear his answer, feel it—a quiet, certain yes. But in that silent, unspoken response, there was a sharp edge that you couldn’t ignore. He’d want children, maybe even a family, but he wouldn’t want it with you.

You glanced at him, fingers twitching nervously in your lap as you wrestled with the words caught somewhere between your mind and your heart.

The steady hum of the engine filled the silence, but the air between you felt charged, thick with all the unspoken questions.

Bruce’s gaze flicked your way, almost as if he could sense something lingering on the tip of your tongue. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, familiar rumble beneath the car’s gentle purr.

You swallowed, drawing in a shaky breath as you tried to steady your thoughts. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “It’s a big night. But I’ve seen you handle bigger.”

His confidence in you tugged a small smile from your lips, but the question still gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

Did he want a family? Could he imagine your family, a future with you? No. That was foolish.

This was a marriage of convenience—a choice made in the shadows, under false pretenses.

Besides, he had enough wards, allies, people to worry about already. A baby? Your baby? That would be a first, and a step he’d never take with someone like you.

The car glided down Gotham’s dimly lit streets, streetlights casting fleeting golden beams across the quiet interior.

You could feel your heart pounding as you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

The question sat heavily in your chest, fragile and vulnerable. But after so many months of holding it back, you took a deep breath and let the words rise to the surface.

“Bruce…” His name came out as a whisper. You glanced at him, then away, focusing instead on the blur of city lights slipping by outside. “Have you ever thought about… having more kids?”

For a moment, silence filled the car, pressing thick and tense between you.

Bruce’s gaze stayed focused on the road, his face unreadable, shadowed in the dim light. As the seconds dragged on, you started to regret even bringing it up. But then he spoke.

“I didn’t think you’d want to bring that up,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur. “I thought you were… okay with how things are now.”

You hesitated, his answer making your heart clench, but you knew you couldn’t leave it there.

Summoning a shaky breath, you pressed on. “I am, really. I love the boys—each of them. They’re a part of my life in a way I never thought possible,” you said softly, fingers nervously tightening around the fabric of your dress. “It’s just… they know about us. They know this marriage is… part of the mission. And because of that, I think they’ll always see me as someone—” you struggled, searching for the words. “As someone useful, not… someone who matters.”

Bruce’s gaze flicked briefly to you, the hardness in his eyes easing as he listened.

“I know they care about you,” he said quietly, but there was a trace of hesitation in his voice, as if even he was aware of the boys’ guarded reserve, that shield they’d learned to hold around themselves.

“I know they do,” you replied. “They’re so much like you, in that way.” A faint, sad smile touched your lips. “They’re protective, and closed-off, and brave, and so loyal it hurts to watch sometimes. They’d die for you, you know?” You paused, swallowing against the ache in your chest. “I’ve tried to reach out, to be there for them… but I’m not sure they see me as someone important. Just another piece in this game. And I understand that.”

The words lingered between you, exposing the silent ache you’d carried. “But there’s a part of me that still wants…” You trailed off, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks as your heart willed you to continue.

Clearing your throat, you pressed on, “I guess I’ve always thought about… starting something like this, but from the beginning. A chance to be a mother… for real.”

The quiet that followed was painfully raw, every second stretching as you waited, almost afraid to look his way.

But when you did, his expression was softer than you’d ever seen, as if he understood, maybe even felt the same longing.

“I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice gentler, with a kind of unspoken apology in his eyes. He reached over, his hand covering yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. “I thought maybe I’d assumed too much—that this marriage, this… arrangement, would always keep us in that gray space.”

Your fingers tightened around his hand, your pulse thundering as you tried to process his words. “So did I… but it’s hard not to think about it now.”

Bruce turned, his eyes catching yours, and in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, you glimpsed something rare—vulnerability in his usually guarded gaze, a hint of the man beneath the mask. “And… if I told you I’ve been thinking about it too?”

The weight of his confession settled between you, mingling with the warmth and hope rising in your chest. Your breath caught, surprised by the honesty of his admission. “Really?” you whispered, the disbelief blending with the gentle swell of emotions you’d kept buried.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, softening the edge of his stoic expression. “I didn’t think… I’d ever get to look beyond the mission. But it’s different now. Since marrying you, I keep thinking of… things I’d given up on before. It’s just… complicated.”

Your heart ached with the longing you’d tried so hard to suppress. “I know it is,” you replied, fingers clutching his hand a little tighter. “We’re not exactly a picture-perfect family. But I see the way you are with the boys, the way you protect them, how you’re there for them in every way you can be. You’re a good father, Bruce. And I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have that with you—to build something real together.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze darkening, his jaw tightening in thought. “I worry… what that means for us, for the boys, for everything. This marriage—it started out as a convenience, a front. And I don’t want to complicate things more than they already are.” His voice was almost pained, a weight in every syllable. “But… if we had a child, if we took that step—it would change everything. And I have to consider… the risks that come with that.”

You felt a thrill of excitement mingled with a pang of fear, both feelings clashing within you. “Maybe change is exactly what we need,” you said, your voice gentle but sure. “I’d never want you to feel trapped or forced into anything, Bruce. I just thought…” You paused, a blush heating your cheeks. “I just thought that maybe, there was a way for us to make this real, to make it work.”

His gaze lingered on you, searching, as if weighing his own feelings, his fears. “You really want this?” he murmured, his voice husky, a bare whisper that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, feeling the intensity of your own need to finally say it out loud. “More than anything,” you confessed, the words tumbling out, almost desperate in their honesty. “I want that with you. I want to build something, something that’s truly ours. Not part of a mission. Not for the sake of appearances… but because I love you.”

He looked at you then, and you saw something in his eyes soften, his own defenses melting as he held your gaze.

For a moment, the man you saw wasn’t Batman or the elusive billionaire, but someone who was deeply, painfully human, someone who loved fiercely but carried the weight of the world.

“I’ll have to think about it more,” he finally said, his words almost apologetic, but not without warmth.

Your heart sank a little, but you understood.

Of course he wasn’t going to say he loved you. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. He was restraining himself, caught in some inner struggle—or maybe he was just angry. Angry at you, at what you’d said.

Guilt washed over you, but you understood. Yes, you understood. His life, his choices—they were unlike anyone else’s, and you couldn’t blame him for thinking twice.

“I know, Bruce,” you said softly, guilt threading through your voice. “I didn’t mean to bring it up now, of all times. You’ve got enough on your mind. I just wanted to know… just to see if maybe…”

He didn’t respond right away, his silence heavy with unspoken words.

You turned your gaze out the window, watching the city streets pass by as the car glided closer to the hotel where the gala awaited.

The flickering lights of Gotham washed over the sleek streets, gilding the world outside in a golden glow, the perfect contrast to the raw ache in your heart.

Bruce’s hand never left yours. He gave a small squeeze, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes, as if to say, I know. 

The warmth of his touch felt like a quiet promise, reassuring even in the silence.

You found a moment of solace at the bar, the cold glass of water refreshing against your lips amid the gala's chaos.

As you took a sip, your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the crowd mingling and laughing, their voices blending into a dull hum that felt both comforting and overwhelming. Bruce was deep in conversation with the Wayne Enterprises board, his brow furrowed in concentration, clearly weighing matters far more serious than the evening's festivities.

You tried to shift your weight to ease the ache in your ankles from the high heels, but the discomfort only deepened as the evening wore on. Just as you were about to take a moment to breathe and steady your nerves, a man approached you—confident, charming, and entirely too close for comfort.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, leaning casually against the bar, a grin spreading across his face. His eyes roamed over you, assessing and appreciative, and you felt a knot of discomfort tighten in your stomach.

“Actually, I—” you began, but he cut you off, undeterred.

“Oh, come on. You look like you could use some company,” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile that only made you feel more uneasy. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?”

You forced a polite smile, trying to convey your disinterest without sounding rude. “I’m not alone; I’m here with my husband,” you replied, fidgeting with your diamond ring—Bruce’s mother’s signet—its intricate design sparkling under the dim lights. The ring felt like a reminder of your bond, a talisman against the unwelcome advances of strangers.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “Surely he wouldn’t mind you having a little fun. It’s a party, after all.”

A small flush crept up your neck at his suggestion, and your smile faltered. “I really don’t think so. He’d prefer I keep to myself,” you said firmly, hoping to end the conversation.

Just then, you caught sight of Bruce looking your way, a flicker of concern in his eyes as he scanned the crowd. Your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of him, a silent reminder of why you were here.

The man followed your gaze and smirked. “Seems your knight in shining armor is watching. How sweet.”

“Actually, it’s called being a good husband,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended. You felt a rush of protectiveness over Bruce and your relationship, wanting to assert that bond against this unwanted attention. The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “I’ve seen you with him. You deserve a little fun tonight. I bet he doesn’t appreciate you like he should.”

Your heart raced uncomfortably. “No, really. I’m happy,” you insisted, attempting to keep your tone light. But the way he watched you felt invasive, and you were suddenly aware of how your ring gleamed—a reminder of your commitment amid the tension in the air.

“Let’s have a drink together. What’s the harm in a little fun?” he pressed, inching closer, his flirtation becoming bolder. You laughed at his joke, but it felt forced, a smile painted on your lips while your stomach twisted in knots.

Across the room, you could feel Bruce’s presence. When your eyes met, you saw the tension in his posture, his jaw clenching. The flicker of jealousy in his gaze sent a rush of warmth through you, reminding you of the complex emotions swirling around you.

Just as the man leaned in, brushing against your shoulder, Bruce appeared at your side, his voice smooth but edged with something darker. “I think she’s fine,” he said, making it clear he wasn't in the mood for debate.

You turned to Bruce, relief washing over you at his intervention. He positioned himself between you and the man, his body radiating authority and unyielding strength. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone leaving little room for interpretation.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. “Just having a conversation with this lovely lady,” he replied, struggling to maintain his composure, but you could see the flicker of fear in his eyes.

Bruce leaned in slightly, his voice low and serious, a chill settling in the air. “You’re talking to my wife. I’d recommend you keep your distance.”

The man hesitated, the bravado fading as he glanced nervously between you and Bruce. "Should I repeat myself?" His voice quivered, and you caught a hint of the intimidating Batman lurking beneath Bruce’s polished exterior.

“Of course not, Bruce,” the man stammered, gulping as he fumbled with his suit.

“It’s Mr. Wayne to you,” Bruce replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the intruder. “Your name?”

“Uh—sorry?” the man said, clearly flustered.

“Your name.”

“Jack Laurent, sir.”

Bruce hummed, his dark stare analyzing him as if he could pierce through to the man’s very soul.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jack retreated into the crowd, a forced smile plastered on his face. As the tension dissipated with his departure, Bruce turned to you, his expression softening but still protective. “You okay?” he asked, concern threading through his voice.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper at his instinct to shield you. “Yeah, just trying to find a moment to breathe,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "But I think you scared him off." You laughed lightly, trying to ease the lingering tension.

Bruce stepped closer, his presence wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. He grasped your bare shoulders delicately, as if you were made of porcelain. “I don’t care about him or anyone here,” he said, pulling you closer and searching your eyes with an intensity that made your heart race. “I just need you to be alright.”

You let out a breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” you replied softly, slowly bringing your hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes at the contact, savoring the warmth, and your heart swelled with appreciation. “It’s just...sometimes it’s hard to remember that in a place like this.”

Bruce nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring. “You belong here just as much as anyone else. And don’t forget, I’m always just a few steps away.”

The tension in the air slowly melted away, and the chaotic buzz of the gala faded into the background. The music shifted to a slow, melodic tune, wrapping around you like an embrace, inviting intimacy amidst the sea of glamour.

“So, Mrs. Wayne, would you like to dance?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

You nodded, your heart racing at the prospect. “Of course, Mr. Wayne.” You smiled, feeling a warmth blossom within you as he extended his hand, palm up, inviting you closer.

When you placed your hand in his, a spark ignited within you, sending a thrill coursing through your veins. He led you to the center of the ballroom, where couples swayed, lost in their own worlds, oblivious to everything but each other.

In the heart of the dance floor, Bruce pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back, guiding you against him. The warmth radiating from his body was intoxicating, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, syncing with the rhythm of the music.

As you began to sway together, his fingers lightly brushed the curve of your waist, igniting a trail of warmth in their wake. Leaning in, you could feel his breath against your ear as he whispered, “You look stunning tonight.”

The compliment sent a delightful shiver down your spine, and you met his gaze, searching for the sincerity in those deep eyes. “I know, you already told me,” you teased, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating deep within you, revealing a smoldering intensity that stirred something primal and aching inside. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you smile,” he replied, his voice low, laced with a hint of mischief.

“But, thank you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as he guided your movements across the dance floor. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the palpable chemistry crackling in the air.

With each step, his touch grew bolder, fingers grazing your skin just a bit longer than necessary. It was electric, a tantalizing connection that made your heart race. The tension between you thickened, almost tangible.

As the song swelled, he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together, and you felt the comforting heat radiating from him. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking gently across your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, your pulse quickening in response to his nearness.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing your forehead, sending a shiver of excitement through you. The protective warmth of his embrace enveloped you, making you feel safe yet utterly exposed.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s more than okay.”

The music wrapped around you like a warm, irresistible tide, drowning out everything else. In that moment, it was just you, Bruce, and the rhythm. His presence was a force, drawing you in, and his gaze—filled with longing, affection, and something deeper—held you captive.

You broke away from his intense stare, suddenly aware of the warmth spreading through you, and cleared your throat. “Bruce, I… I wanted to apologize. If I made you uncomfortable in the car earlier, that wasn’t—”

But he cut you off, his voice calm yet unyielding. “You didn’t.”

Surprised, you looked up, your brows furrowing. “What?”

He clenched his jaw, the words seemingly heavy, as if pulling them from some hidden place within. “I’m not great with words. But… I love you too. And I want more than anything to build a life with you. Children, a family… all of it.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your body still in his arms. “You… you do?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

In response, he placed his hands on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. “You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, unguarded honesty that sent warmth flooding through you, leaving you feeling both safe and seen.

As the song slowed to its final notes, he pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist. His mouth lifted in a rare, tender smile as he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Stepping through the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, the lively echoes of the gala faded away, replaced by the soft, ambient hum of the house settling into the quiet of the night.

It had been a long evening, filled with mingling and the subtle games of socializing with Gotham’s elite.

The air between you and Bruce buzzed with unspoken tension. His hand rested possessively on the small of your back, guiding you up the elegant staircase. Each step was a silent promise, building the anticipation and drawing you both toward the inevitable culmination of the night’s charged atmosphere.

When you finally reached your bedroom door, he paused, turning to face you. The moment hung in the air, electric and charged, as he searched your eyes for something—an answer, perhaps. The world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you suspended in this intimate space, heartbeats synchronized in the dim light.

Before you could catch your breath, he pushed the door closed behind you, the soft click resonating like a heartbeat in the silence of the room. He stepped closer, invading your space with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. The flickering candlelight danced across his features, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the depths of his darkened gaze, making you feel both exhilarated and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, thick with desire and restraint.

The question hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver racing down your spine. It was raw, honest—an invitation that ignited something deep within you.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely escaping your lips as the weight of his gaze enveloped you. The rest of the world blurred away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this cocoon of intimacy.

In an instant, he closed the distance between you, pressing your back against the cool wooden door. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and you felt his breath ghosting over your skin, igniting every nerve ending in a fiery dance of longing.

He leaned in, capturing your lips with his, and the kiss ignited like a wildfire—fierce, consuming, and utterly intoxicating.

His lips were warm and insistent against yours, each press sending surges of electricity coursing through your body.

You melted into him, hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was this moment, the exquisite collision of your mouths.

Bruce’s hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss, a gentle possessiveness that made your heart race. Tongues danced, exploring and intertwining as if they were fighting for dominance, enveloping each other in a sweet battle that fueled the fire of desire.

The sensation sent shockwaves coursing through you, awakening a hunger you hadn’t fully realized was there. You responded in kind, kissing him back with equal fervor, your lips moving in a rhythm that felt both familiar and entirely new.

The weight of his body pressed against you, grounding you while his kiss transported you to a realm of dizzying exhilaration.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, a potent energy that fueled the fire building within you. The kiss grew more passionate, a fusion of longing and urgency, as if you were both trying to reclaim something that had long been held back.

Every touch, every movement, felt like the unveiling of secrets long buried, a revelation of what had been simmering beneath the surface.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for air, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice rough, laden with unfiltered emotion.

The vulnerability in his admission sent a thrill through you, a delicious mingling of excitement and certainty that surged through your veins.

“Me too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible yet brimming with honesty. The weight of those words hung between you, binding you together in a shared moment of understanding that transcended the chaos of the outside world.

Bruce stepped back slightly, just enough to trace a finger along your jawline, the touch featherlight yet electrifying. “I never wanted to rush you. I just needed to make sure you felt safe… wanted,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, filled with a sincerity that made your heart swell. Each word was a testament to his care, each glance a reminder of the bond you shared.

“Being here with you feels safe,” you admitted, leaning into his touch, craving more of that intimate connection. “It feels right.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, transforming his fierce demeanor into something tender.

He leaned in again, this time pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a promise wrapped in affection that made your heart flutter. “Then let’s make this moment last,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, igniting a yearning that simmered just beneath the surface.

His lips were back on yours in an instant, and you surrendered to the moment, letting the world around you fade away once more. The warmth of his body enveloped you, drawing you into a cocoon of desire and urgency, each kiss igniting flames of longing that spread through you like wildfire.

With a gentle yet deliberate touch, he slowly unzipped your dress, the fabric slipping away to pool at your feet, leaving you clad only in your strappy heels.

The cool air brushed against your skin, causing your nipples to harden in response, the sensation electric and thrilling.

You felt exposed yet liberated, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

His gaze darkened as he drank you in like a man starved, his fingers trailing down your abdomen, teasingly exploring the curves that he found so captivating.

As his hand glided over your hips, he softly brushed against your nipple, sending a shockwave of sensation through you.

The unexpected contact made you gasp, your head tilting back instinctively, exposing your neck and inviting him closer.

His breath hitched at your submission, the hunger in his eyes intensifying as he inched even closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your skin.

You could feel the tension crackle in the air between you, thick and intoxicating, enveloping you both in a heady mix of desire and vulnerability.

He cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, eliciting a shiver that danced down your spine.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as desire ignited within you, flaring to life like a match struck in the darkness.

The sound seemed to spur him on, a silent encouragement that sent him deeper into this intoxicating exploration.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in, his lips grazing your neck as he trailed soft, tantalizing kisses along your collarbone. Each kiss sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, and you tilted your head to give him better access, the soft whimpers of pleasure escaping your mouth only fueling his hunger.

The weight of his body pressed against you grounded you in this shared moment while your hearts raced in sync, every pulse resonating with the urgency of your connection.

His lips continued their tantalizing journey, exploring the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispered words that sent shivers through you, igniting a fire deep within.

Each kiss grew bolder, more urgent, as if he were claiming you, marking you as his own.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, a magnetic pull drawing you even closer, making it impossible to resist. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you pulled him in, craving more of his touch.

He responded instantly, his hands roaming lower, tracing the curve of your waist before grasping your hips, anchoring you in place as he deepened the kiss.

The taste of him was intoxicating—warm and addictive, leaving you breathless, desperate for more.

With a sudden, bold movement, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he pressed you against the wall, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating between you.

You could feel his heart racing, matching the tempo of your own. Every brush of his skin against yours sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, caught in the whirlwind of desire and longing.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending waves of anticipation crashing over you.

The world outside your little bubble faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you enveloped in this heated moment.

You locked eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable, and with a breathless whisper, you revealed your deepest desire, surrendering to the passion that had ignited between you.

“Take me,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper but heavy with longing.

The air around you crackled with anticipation as his eyes darkened, a primal hunger evident in his gaze. With a swift, possessive motion, he captured your lips again, the kiss igniting into a fiery dance of tongues and breathless gasps.

His hands roamed eagerly over your bare skin, exploring every inch as he savored the taste of you.

You could feel him growing harder against you, and it only heightened your desire, stirring an insatiable craving that drove you both deeper into the moment.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, but all he found was unyielding need reflected back at him.

A smirk curled on his lips, playful yet dangerously seductive. “I want you to feel everything,” he promised, his voice a low rumble that made your pulse quicken.

“Everything,” you echoed, the weight of that word hanging between you, filled with the promise of what was to come. His hands tightened around your waist, and you felt an exhilarating rush of anticipation flood through you.

With each passing second, the tension between you escalated, pushing you both to the brink of surrender.

His hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you to the bed. You fall back onto the soft sheets, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure through you. He hovers above you, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you like a warm embrace, and you can’t help but arch against him, craving his touch.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, leaning down to trail kisses across your collarbone, his warm breath fanning against your skin. He pauses, lingering at your breast, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking gently as you gasp and writhe beneath him. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, unraveling you further.

“More,” you plead, your voice thick with desire, and he responds instantly, shifting lower, his kisses trailing down your abdomen, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You can feel every nerve ending awaken, every touch igniting a longing deep within you as you surrender to the intoxicating sensations washing over you.

He pauses, looking up at you, a devilish grin on his face. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” he teases, before continuing his descent, ready to explore the depths of your desire.

The air around you crackles with tension, your heart racing as anticipation coils tightly in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and raw yearning.

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and heat, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna put a baby inside of you,” he growls, the primal intensity of his voice igniting a fierce longing deep within you.

The sheer audacity of his claim leaves you breathless, every part of you alive with the possibilities of what’s to come.

You can hardly process the weight of his statement, the idea swirling in your mind, feeding the fire of your desire.

The thought alone sends a surge of warmth through you, making your cheeks flush as the heat between you builds, wild and untamed.

Your heart races, a blend of exhilaration and raw anticipation thrumming through your veins. His words are bold, stirring something deep inside you, a desire so potent it’s almost overwhelming.

“Do you want that?” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the haze of your desire to reach the vulnerable truth beneath. His question feels like an invitation, a daring challenge, as his thumb brushes over your cheek, grounding you in the moment. The tenderness in his voice only intensifies the intimacy, and for a heartbeat, you feel a depth that goes beyond passion—a need that borders on devotion.

“Yes,” you answer, barely more than a breath, but thick with longing. The simple word hangs in the air like a spark, lighting a fuse neither of you can ignore.

A slow, almost triumphant smile curves at his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth with a kiss that’s searing, consuming. His hands slide to your hips, his grip firm, possessive, sending a thrill down your spine as he presses you closer.

“Then let’s make it unforgettable,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and low, each word vibrating through you as he begins to move, each movement slow, intentional, every thrust deep and consuming.

He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every shiver, every gasp that slips from your lips as he drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In a playful moment, you pause him, a spark in your eyes as you lean in to trace your lips over the faint scars that line his chest, each one a silent testament to battles fought and endured. Your kisses are warm, gentle, and when you murmur, “You’re so beautiful,” the words come from a place of pure sincerity.

You can feel his breath hitch as your lips trace his skin, the depth of his groan telling you he feels it too, letting you both linger in this exquisite, vulnerable intimacy.

His breath hitches, caught off guard by your tenderness amidst the raw intensity of the moment.

You let your hands roam over his defined torso, tracing the contours and dips, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. The warmth radiating from him envelops you, fueling your desire.

With a bold move, you grasp the waistband of his briefs, teasingly tugging them down.

His length springs free, a glorious sight that takes your breath away. You bite your lip, heat pooling in your core as you admire the raw masculinity before you. He’s impressively big, thick and hard, with veins running along his length—a striking reminder of just how much he wants you.

He watches you with hooded eyes, a mix of confidence and need in his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the heat and strength beneath your touch.

His jaw tightens, a low, breathy groan escaping as he watches you, eyes dark with desire.

Slowly, you begin to move, each stroke slow and deliberate, savoring the connection, letting the intensity build between you with every deliberate touch.

Then, with a teasing smile, you lean forward, your soft lips hovering just above him. The anticipation hangs thick in the air, charged with desire as you take a moment to savor the view. He’s so big and long, and the sight of him sends a thrill of excitement through you.

With a playful flick of your tongue, you tease the tip, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation sends shivers coursing through your body, igniting your own hunger. You wrap your lips around him, taking him in slowly, your mouth fitting him perfectly as you begin to move.

He groans, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you, urging you to continue. The warmth of your mouth envelops him, each movement eliciting a wave of pleasure that sends him spiraling deeper into the moment.

You feel his hands thread through your hair, guiding you as you take him further in, savoring the taste and the way he feels against your tongue.

You lock eyes with him, the heat of the moment intensifying as you push yourself to take him even deeper, your lips gliding over his length in a rhythm that builds both your desires.

He watches you with a mix of awe and lust, every thrust of your mouth sending him closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” he encourages, his voice low and rough, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

You take him deeper, unyielding, letting the sensation of him fill you completely. You don’t care if you gag; the thrill of taking him entirely fuels your desire, and you want him to see just how far you’re willing to go for him.

His eyes widen as he watches you, the lust in them igniting a fire within you that makes you crave him even more.

As you push your limits, you feel him tense beneath you, the undeniable signs of his release building.

“I’m close,” he warns, his voice a low growl, but you only increase your efforts, sucking harder, your mouth gliding over him in a frenzy of pleasure.

Your other hand sneaks down, slipping beneath the waistband of your wet panties, your fingers finding your slick heat. You touch yourself, the combination of sensations sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

His breaths quicken, the sight of you pleasuring yourself while taking him deeper pushing him to the brink.

“Yes,” he gasps, and with one final thrust of his hips, he explodes, warmth flooding your mouth and throat.

You swallow instinctively, looking up at him through lust-filled eyes, and you can feel the overwhelming rush as more of him spills forth, dribbling from your lips.

You keep your eyes locked on his, the connection electrifying as you revel in the moment. There’s so much cum that it spills over, dripping from your mouth, a visual testament to the intensity of your shared pleasure. You can see the mixture of awe and satisfaction in his gaze, and it only heightens the fire within you.

With a satisfied smirk, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, savoring the lingering taste of him and the thrill of the moment. But before you can utter a word, he grips your elbows, effortlessly pushing you back onto the mattress. His lips find yours again, this time with a roughness that sends a jolt of electricity through you. It’s primal, a clash of teeth and tongues, raw and unfiltered, leaving your lips bruised but you find you don’t care. There’s something intoxicating about his urgency, something that awakens a wildness in you.

He pulls back, his gaze piercing as you gasp for air, your heart racing. “Do you want a baby?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his fingers trailing across your stomach with a rough tenderness that sends a shiver through you. Heat floods your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. But he gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me,” he urges, his intensity igniting something deep within you.

After a moment of contemplation, you whisper, “Yes.” The word hangs in the air, heavy with possibility and charged with electricity. Without hesitation, he quickly pulls your panties down, the suddenness of his action catching you off guard and leaving you breathless.

As his fingers glide through your folds, a moan escapes your lips, and you arch your back instinctively. “Bruce,” you gasp, reaching up to cradle his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair. The way he teases you makes it hard to think clearly.

“Bruce, I—” Another moan escapes you as he applies pressure to that sensitive bundle of nerves, making it impossible to finish your sentence. “I’ve never done this before,” you finally admit, your voice trembling.

He pauses at your words, concern flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry if you’re not ready—”

But you cut him off, urgency flooding your voice. “No—I want this more than anything.”

He softens, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before trailing down with warm kisses and the teasing flick of his tongue, exploring the valley between your breasts and moving down to your stomach.

Before he enters you, he shifts his position, lifting your legs and resting them on his shoulders.

The new angle sends a thrilling rush through you, completely exposing you and making you feel both vulnerable and electrified. You meet his gaze, a mix of hunger and desire burning in his eyes as he prepares to take you in every sense.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you feel the heat radiating from his body, drawing you in closer.

He lowers himself, pressing a soft kiss just above your thigh, teasingly inching his way toward your core. The anticipation is nearly unbearable as he inhales deeply, savoring your scent, and you can feel your body responding instinctively to his presence.

“Please,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need as you arch your back, trying to pull him closer. The heat within you builds, desperate for his touch. “I need you...”

With a wicked grin, he finally gives in, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like a decadent dessert. The sound of him savoring you vibrates through your core, eliciting a loud moan from your lips that surprises even you.

He licks with the fervor of a man starved, drawing on your most sensitive spots with a precision that drives you wild. Each flick of his tongue sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy, your body instinctively arching and grinding against his mouth, hungry for more. He grips your thighs firmly, anchoring you in place as he devours you with an insatiable hunger, as if it’s the first time he’s ever tasted something so exquisite.

“God, you taste incredible,” he growls against you, his voice muffled yet filled with raw desire.

The heat within you rises, your fingers tangling more tightly in his hair, pulling him closer as you push him deeper into your core. He responds eagerly, teasing your entrance with his tongue, and you cry out in pleasure, coiling tighter with every movement he makes. The world around you fades, leaving only the intoxicating sensations of his mouth and the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

Your breathing quickens, each gasp mingling with soft cries as you surrender completely to the waves of ecstasy washing over you. The tension builds within you, the edge of release drawing nearer with every flick and swirl of his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice thick with need as your body thrums with anticipation, ready to shatter into a million pieces under his touch.

He watches you with hungry eyes as he slips one finger inside you, filling you in a way that sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You gasp at the sensation, instinctively grasping his wrist, your back arching as your hips grind against his hand.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. He begins to work his finger deeper, curling it to find that sweet spot within you. The pressure builds, and the pleasure intensifies with each thrust.

Just when you think it can't get any better, he adds another finger, stretching you further. Your breath catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. “You’re so tight,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire, and you can’t help but moan in response, guiding his hand deeper, craving more.

With a deliberate rhythm, he begins to thrust his fingers in and out, finding a pace that makes your body sing. Each stroke pushes you closer to the edge, heat pooling low in your belly as you bite your lip, trying to hold back the cries threatening to spill forth.

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more, and he responds instantly, slipping in a third finger, filling you to the brim. The combination of his mouth on your sensitive skin and his fingers working you expertly is almost too much to bear.

“Let go, baby,” he urges, his voice deep and smooth as he continues to curl his fingers just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, the tension winding tighter until you feel like you might burst.

With every thrust of his fingers, you get closer and closer, the room spinning as you lose yourself in the moment. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your body trembling under his expert touch.

“Good,” he growls, his fingers quickening, pushing you over the edge with a final, delicious thrust. You shatter, a moan escaping your lips as pleasure explodes through you, sending you spiraling into blissful release.

“That's it, let it all out,” he murmurs, satisfaction evident in his voice as he watches you ride the waves of ecstasy, your body writhing beneath him.

As you come down from your high, he pulls back, his fingers slick and glistening as he wipes them on your thigh, a smug smile playing on his lips. The hunger in his eyes tells you that this is just the beginning of what’s to come.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied grin. The sight of him savoring you sends a rush of heat through you, reigniting the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

Then, with a deliberate motion, he takes a pillow and slides it under your hips, angling your body just right. Anticipation builds within you as he positions himself, the tip of his length teasingly pressing against you. You catch your breath, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through you.

“It’s gonna hurt at first,” he says softly, his gaze locking onto yours. You nod, breathing heavily, and he takes one of your hands in his, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “You tell me if you want to stop.” You respond by leaning in and kissing him deeply, reassuring him of your desire to continue.

With that connection, he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you in a way that makes you gasp. It’s hard and intense, and he’s not even halfway in yet. Every inch of him fills you, the sensation of his size and the texture of his veins overwhelming as he sinks deeper. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Taking both of your hands, he pins them above your head, his grip firm yet tender as he leans down to kiss you. The kiss ignites a fire within you, and you lose yourself in the taste of him. As he continues to push into you, a mix of pain and pleasure washes over you. You know your body needs to adjust, but the feeling of him filling you is intoxicating.

“Just breathe, it’s okay,” he whispers against your lips, and you nod, focusing on his soothing voice as he finally buries himself completely within you. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel so full, and he pauses for a moment, allowing you to acclimate to his size.

As he kisses down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin, the pain begins to fade, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure that courses through you. His movements are slow and deliberate, drawing out the sensations as he starts to move, each thrust igniting sparks of ecstasy within you.

The rhythm builds, and you can’t help but let out an echoing moan, the sound reverberating in the expansive room. “That’s it, let me hear you,” he encourages, his voice a low growl as he picks up the pace, the rhythm of flesh against flesh echoing around you.

You arch your back, surrendering completely to the pleasure, the initial discomfort forgotten as you lose yourself in the sensations he’s creating. It’s almost overwhelming; each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your body responding instinctively, craving more, needing more.

At first, his movements are slow and tender, each thrust deliberate as he savors the connection between you. He watches your face closely, absorbing every expression and sigh that escapes your lips. The intimacy of the moment feels almost sacred, wrapped in the warmth of his body.

But as the rhythm continues, the tension builds. You feel heat rising between you, a pressure that intensifies with each gentle thrust. The sweet pleasure begins to intertwine with a growing need for something more. You grip the sheets beneath you, your body tightening around him, silently urging him to go deeper, to give you more.

And just like that, he shifts gears.

The slow, romantic pace is replaced with something far more primal—animalistic even. He thrusts harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. The headboard bangs against the wall, the intensity echoing your rising desire.

Your breath hitches as each thrust sends jolts of pleasure mixed with a delicious edge of pain coursing through you. You can feel the raw power in his movements, the way he claims you completely. Each time he fills you, it’s overwhelming, and you gasp and moan, lost in the storm of sensation.

“Just like that,” he growls, his voice low and rough as he drives into you with urgency, his grip on your wrists tightening. One of his hands glides to your chest, grasping one of your breasts and squeezing, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It’s too much, yet not enough, and you can feel his heart racing, matching your own as he loses himself in the moment.

Your body instinctively arches to meet him, craving every thrust. The sensations blur the lines between pleasure and pain, leaving you caught in their throes, every cry and moan spilling from your lips unbidden.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks into you with increasing ferocity. You feel heat pooling deep within, the familiar pressure building as he takes you higher and higher.

With each thrust, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of raw, uninhibited passion. The tension between you is palpable, igniting a fire that consumes you both. You know you’re on the brink of something incredible.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, your voice a breathless whisper, urging him on. He responds with a primal growl, picking up the pace even more, pushing you further into ecstasy.

You touch your chest absently, lost in the sensations swirling around you. He leans down, taking one of your nipples between his teeth, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips. The pleasure is overwhelming, and with each thrust, the connection deepens, sending shockwaves through your body.

“God, it’s too much,” you cry out, your voice echoing in the room. You try to meet him with each thrust, but it’s a struggle; the intensity is more than you ever imagined. As you scratch his back, your nails digging in, he can only moan in response, reveling in your reactions.

Your legs open wider than you thought possible, driven by an insatiable desire for him to penetrate you deeper. “I want you so deep,” you whimper, your voice thick with need.

With every powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, the waves of pleasure crashing over you until you can’t hold back any longer. You explode, a scream of ecstasy bursting from your lips as your body quakes with release.

But he doesn’t relent. He continues his relentless pace, pounding into you with an urgency that keeps you riding the high, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm. Each thrust pushes you higher, your senses overwhelmed as pleasure pulses through your veins.

It’s only when your cries start to quiet, the peaks of your pleasure beginning to ebb, that he finally lets himself go. With a primal roar, he drives into you one last time, filling you to the brim, a wave of warmth spilling inside you.

You can feel him shudder as he reaches his own climax, the raw intensity of the moment binding you together in a whirlwind of heat and desire. He collapses against you, breathless and spent, and you can only hold onto him, the remnants of pleasure coursing through you as you both come down from the high.

In the stillness that follows, the echoes of your passion linger in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

But he isn’t finished. Not yet.

With a sudden, powerful movement, he turns you over, bending you back with an arch that leaves you vulnerable and exposed to him entirely.

You gasp as he re-enters you, the sensitivity from your last wave of pleasure sending fresh sparks through your body. Each thrust is a mix of pleasure and delicious discomfort, igniting a new fire within you.

“So tight, so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with hunger as he fills you once more. The initial sting quickly gives way to overwhelming pleasure, and you can’t help but surrender to the sensation. It’s as if he knows just how to push you, how to drive you wild.

As he thrusts deeper, you feel every inch of him, stretching you perfectly, igniting every nerve ending. The angle sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway—a breathy sound of pure desire.

“Take it,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you as he begins to pound into you with renewed vigor. Each thrust sends you spiraling, and the world outside fades away once more, leaving just the two of you in this heated moment.

“Please, yes,” you manage to gasp, pushing back against him, urging him to go harder, to claim you completely. The sensation is a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you can feel the heat pooling deep within you once again.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, whispering words that send shivers down your spine. “You love it, don’t you? You love being filled with me.”

You can only nod, too lost in the pleasure to form coherent words.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, each thrust echoing your shared desire. You feel yourself teetering on the edge again, your body responding instinctively to his every movement.

As he continues to drive into you, the rhythm builds, becoming more frantic, more desperate.

You can feel your body tightening, your high building once again, and it’s almost too much to handle. “I’m so close,” you breathe, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Come for me,” he commands, and with that, you let go completely. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, pulling him in with you as you both reach your climax together.

As the tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body convulses around him, tightening involuntarily as the waves of ecstasy pulse through every fiber of your being.

Your scream of bliss fills the room, echoing against the walls as you surrender completely to the intensity of the moment.

He growls deep in his throat, the sound primal and raw, matching your high with his own. You feel him surge deeper, his movements becoming more erratic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your shared release.

The heat between you is intoxicating, a swirling mix of desperation and fulfillment that binds you together in that sacred space.

With each thrust, he drives you further into the depths of your pleasure, his own release mingling with yours. You can feel him spill inside you, a warmth that fills you completely, pushing you over the edge once more—a final wave of bliss washing through you, leaving you gasping and trembling.

“God, yes,” he breathes, collapsing onto you, his weight pressing you into the sheets as he takes a moment to catch his breath. The room is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and passion, the echoes of your shared climax hanging in the air.

You feel spent but exhilarated, every inch of your body humming with a delicious afterglow. He gently pulls out, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss, the sensation sending a soft gasp from your lips.

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and husky, tinged with concern, as he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face.

“More than okay,” you reply, a breathless laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, your heart racing from the intensity of it all.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

With that, he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that ignites the embers of desire once more. You can feel the heat building between you again, a spark that promises the night is far from over.

As his hands wander across your body, exploring every curve and contour, you realize that this moment, this connection, is something you never want to end.

With a renewed surge of desire coursing through you, you shift your position, straddling him as you sit up. Your body instinctively responds to the heat radiating from him, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as he watches you, his expression a mix of admiration and raw hunger.

Slowly, you begin to ride him, your chest rising and falling with each movement, breaths mingling in the heated air. You sink down, feeling him fill you completely again, a soft moan escaping your lips as you adjust to the familiar stretch.

“Just like that,” he encourages, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements as you find your rhythm. You lift your hips, then push down, the sensations electrifying as you take control, the intensity of the moment building with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with a primal need that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I could watch you all night.”

You smile at his words, feeling empowered as you pick up the pace, your body moving fluidly above him. The pleasure intensifies, and you can feel the tension coiling within you once more, ready to unravel.

As you ride him, your hands find his chest, fingers trailing over the defined muscles, tracing the scars that tell stories of battles fought. You lean down, pressing your lips against his, the kiss igniting a fire between you that fuels your movements.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic melody that matches the beat of your hearts. You feel the familiar tightness in your core, the sensation building as you grind against him, taking him deeper and deeper, lost in the ecstasy of it all.

“Just like that, baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs, urging you on as he meets your movements with his own thrusts.

The two of you are perfectly in sync, the connection palpable, electric even.

You feel the heat pooling within you again, a delicious pressure that teeters on the edge of release.

Every motion sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can’t help but cry out as you lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the bliss that envelops you both.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, the words escaping your lips like a desperate plea, and he responds with a growl, driving up into you with renewed vigor.

With each downward motion, your breaths come faster, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation driving you both closer to the edge.

You know you’re close, the world around you fading as you focus solely on the moment, on him.

He brings two fingers to your clit, playing with it, and you scream, throwing your head back and exposing your neck, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with each thrust.

“I’m almost there, Bruce,” you gasp, feeling the heat pooling deep within you, ready to explode.

“Me too,” he growls, his eyes darkening with desire.

With one final, powerful thrust, you both let go, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, pulling you both into the depths of ecstasy.

As you watch where you’re connected, your heat enveloping his length, absorbing it, tightening around it, a rush of exhilaration courses through you.

The sight is primal and intoxicating, fueling your desire as you quicken your pace again, driven by instinct, addicted to the feeling.

Suddenly, he sits up, his arms enveloping your torso, bringing your naked chest against his muscled frame. His hand descends to grip your hips tightly, enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care; you don’t want this to end.

He pulls you closer as the rhythm becomes almost animalistic—no, more than that; it’s nihilistic.

Both of you are sweating, your bodies glinting under the moonlight. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the air, a wild, desperate symphony that matches the pounding of your hearts.

You lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between you, and then you kiss fiercely, the connection igniting into a fiery exchange. Your lips crash against his with a fervor that leaves you both breathless, teeth clashing as you bite at each other’s lips, tasting the need that crackles in the air around you.

“God, you feel so good,” he growls against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, heightening your senses.

You can’t get enough, and you grind down harder, reveling in the pleasure that builds with every thrust.

His hands roam your body, exploring your curves as he pulls you closer, deepening the connection between you. You can feel every pulse, every inch of him, and it drives you wild.

Leaning back slightly, you allow him to watch as you move, the sight of you taking him in and out, completely lost in the moment.

“More,” you demand, your voice a low whisper, filled with urgency, and he responds with a feral growl, matching your intensity. The room is charged with heat, your bodies entwined in a dance that feels both ancient and raw.

You can feel the world outside fading away; the only thing that matters is the rhythm you’ve created together.

He leans in, kissing down your neck, each bite and kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that shoot through your body.

You can’t hold back any longer.

The pleasure builds higher, tightening like a coil within you. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, urging him on.

“Let go for me,” he urges, his voice thick with desire, and with a final thrust, you tumble over the edge, your body quaking as pleasure washes over you in waves, pulling him along with you into the depths of ecstasy.

You cry out, a mix of pleasure and relief, as you both surrender to the moment—hearts racing, bodies entwined, lost in the bliss of your connection.

You can feel his warmth inside you, completely full and satisfied, and you revel in the sensation.

For a while, you stay like this—him on top, your bodies intertwined, enjoying the closeness and the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. He kisses your forehead softly, a tender gesture that makes your heart swell.

Slowly, he begins to pull out, and you moan at the loss, the sensation of emptiness causing a bittersweet ache.

Cum drips from your core, a reminder of the intensity you just shared, but before you can fully process it, Bruce slips two fingers back inside you.

You let out a soft moan, surprised yet responsive, your body still humming with pleasure despite the exhaustion settling in. Your eyes feel heavy, droopy with fatigue.

“Just to make sure it stays,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, as he lays down beside you.

You only nod, too spent to protest or question his actions, and finally, you close your eyes, surrendering to the blissful aftermath.

The world around you dissolves into nothingness, leaving only the echo of your shared breaths and the pounding of your hearts, two souls entwined in an exquisite dance of passion and desire.

Each heartbeat feels like a gentle reminder of the intimacy you’ve just experienced, a moment that feels both surreal and grounding.

In this cocoon of warmth and safety, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, fully content and wrapped in the remnants of bliss.

go check [ TU’BURNI (Bruce Wayne fic) ]

Congrats to me for finally posting this draft cause it’s been rotting since forever… Also first time writing and posting smut so please be nice … 😣 I might delete it later lol

don’t hesitate to leave a comment babes xxx

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 6 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 7k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! I planned to post this chapter yesterday, but unfortunately I was too drunk to finish writing anything. The pre carnival parties got me 🙂‍↕️ That being said, this one wasn't proof read, so my apologies for any grammar mistakes. I love how past chapter made all of you theorize LMAOOOO as I replied in the comments, I'm sad that I can't really discuss anything with y'all (no spoilers!!) but I LOVED reading everything! I love how much attention y'all are paying to any details!! 🥹🥹

Anyways, enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Olrox felt that horrible stench from the moment he stepped out of the ship.

At first, he thought it was just the usual human filth. Too many souls, too many plagues, too much blood soaking the lands of the Old World, too much history, too much evil. Olrox never liked visiting Europe, and not only because the travel was exhausting, even for a vampire. To him, that continent meant a mix of distastes. He’d only cross the ocean when he had no other choice.

Then, he stood face to face with Erzsebet Bathory – and the stench got even worse.

Not many things shocked Olrox anymore, but when he first met the so called “Vampire Messiah”, he couldn’t help but feel that way. She reeked. Her horrible smell already permeated the entirety of France. Olrox wondered how any of her servants managed to stand beside her without vomiting. Hell, even the normal humans of Machecoul should be feeling that at some point.

Of course – the world was not what it used to be. Not many people were able to feel the fragrances of magic anymore.

Olrox came from a time and a people that weren’t blinded by the teachings of the Christian Church. They knew that magic is very much real; they knew that it existed in every aspect of life, from the forests to the rivers to the seas, from the birth of a child to the death of an elder, from the blood that dripped when a girl became a woman to the blood that splashed in a holy sacrifice. This type of knowledge was being slowly forgotten, buried in the sands of time. Mankind had a short memory. With each generation, they became more and more unaware of the invisible forces around them – not only in the Old World, but in his home, too.

But Olrox didn’t have a short memory. Olrox never forgot any teaching.

And Olrox knew that that was the stench of blasphemy.

Erzsebet Bathory was no goddess. Of that, he was sure. But the type of magic she was feeding of… it was ancient, difficult to manage. Dangerous. From a time when gods still roamed Earth and still had the power to bless or punish. And it was quite ironic, in fact, that Drolta – who was not only Erzsebet’s most loyal servant, but also claimed to be Sekhmet’s priestess – would even dare to try that.

Olrox sincerely did not understand Drolta. She was even older than him; she was a powerful vampire and had deep knowledge in the occult. Why would she act so foolishly? Was she blinded by the love for her goddess, or was she blinded by her thirst for power?

This goddess she claimed to love – wherever she was, he wondered, could not be satisfied with any of that.

And yet… as days went by, as Olrox investigated Machecoul… he noticed another smell.

It was very well masked under Erzsebet’s stench. It was… timid, in a way. Very easy to go unnoticed. He felt it faintly in Mizrak. It became stronger in the night creatures. It was disgusting in the Abbot. And now, standing in the underground of his church, it was unbearable.

The stench of a demon.

Olrox stood in front of the necromancy machine the now deceased Abbot used to make night creatures with. Another irony in this great puzzle he was putting together – a funny irony this time. Did the people that come to pray to their God upstairs had any idea that a hell machine laid under their feet? Did they ever imagine that the man that used to hold their Holy Scriptures also held a book originated in the underworld?

He would’ve laughed at the entire situation if it didn’t affect Mizrak – and he wouldn’t have really cared if his inner voice didn’t warn him otherwise.

Olrox knew the entity was with him at that moment. Surrounding him, vibrating in a low frequency. The basement immediately got cold. The smell of coal and sulfur got stronger.

“I know who you are,” Olrox muttered, not caring to turn around. He could feel that thing grinning at him. “Old Man Coyote. Mephistopholes, or some other name.” His eyes wandered over the hell book he held. “I know what promises you make and how tempting they are. And I could make good use of a powerful patron.”

Olrox closed the book, finally looking over his shoulder. The entity was nothing but a shadow; blurry, dark, trying hard to somehow keep itself together in the same level of existence as him – and it would never achieve this in its totality without a vessel.

“But this doesn’t belong in this world,” he said, shaking the hell book slightly, “And nor do you.”

He threw the book inside the machine, where it burned immediately. The shadow retreated.

Olrox made his way out of the Abbey. The smell still followed him, though. It was mixed with the human filth, the blood, the plagues, the history, the evil. Mixed with Erzsebet’s stench. Hidden under it. And looking in retrospect, it was always there, from the moment Olrox stepped out of the ship.

It was very reflective of the situation slowly unfolding in front of his eyes. Erzsebet was noisy, boisterous, blinding, just like her stench. The other stench was quieter, moving silently like a snake ready to pounce on its prey. He wondered if she would notice the snake before it sank its fangs in her ankles. Probably not. She wasn’t as perceptive, or as intelligent, or as dangerous.

Yes, the type of blasphemous magic Drolta and Erzsebet were messing with was dangerous. But gods didn’t roam the Earth anymore. They couldn’t protect of punish the way they used to.

Demons did.

Demons could.

Olrox wondered what type of pact they made with this demon – and what was the price they would have to pay for their foolishness.

PAIN.

It was red and piercing and incessant and strong and nauseating and you felt your bones crashing and flesh being slashed and the pressure in your stomach and the taste of blood in your tongue and your vision went black and you couldn’t breathe and nothing else existed but pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN–––––

...

You knew pain. You knew it very well. You knew it better than anything else – better than yourself, better than your cloudy past.

You could deal with it. You could deal with it.

You would deal with it.

So you forced your brain to start working again. You forced your eyes to focus.

And they saw red. Blurry red. The night creature’s jaws tightly around your body. Its teeth sank deep into your clavicle, your chest, your stomach, and–

And–

And you couldn’t feel half of your right arm anymore.

You still weren’t hearing anything very well. If you could, you would’ve heard Annette gasping, desperately calling your name; then you would’ve heard her scream of anger, then you would’ve heard the sound of her blade slashing the night creature’s remaining head from its neck.

The pressure of the jaws was gone. The head fell on the ground.

It was like taking the cover off a leaking pipe.

The bleeding started.

Your brain was divided in two sections. The bigger section which occupied 90% of it was yelling PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN. The smaller section, barely 10% of it, was strangely focused and analytical. This little part always understood very well everything that was happening.

PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINmy lung was pierced. If I try to breathe, I will inhale bloodITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSdon’t breathe for now. There’s already blood in your throat. You’ll gag and it’ll only make things worstPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINprobably one or two ribs broken, too. I can’t move my right shoulder… so the collarbone was also piercedIT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!!

MY RIGHT ARM! IT’S HANGING!!

You held your breath. You stumbled back. You heard Annette’s incoherent, desperate voice – oh, she will freak out if she sees me like this. So, with the little body control you still had, you pushed her away with your left arm and stumbled to the back of the gallery.

Don’t worry about this, it’s what you would’ve said if you could breathe, if there wasn’t blood clogging your throat. It’ll heal anyway. I’m more worried about you seeing me in this state.

How you didn’t trip was a miracle. You stumbled to the farthest place you could reach, leaning on the wall with your back facing Annette; you didn’t utter a sound. Don’t scream, don’t cry – these two rules were still engraved in your behavior.

So when you looked down and saw that your entire forearm was hanging from a little piece of skin and muscle, all you thought was oh shit.

The two bones of the forearm were visibly cracked, peeking out from a horrible gash in an exposed fracture. You didn’t feel anything from that point down to your hand, which meant that all the nerves were ripped off; it bled uncontrollably, which would become the even bigger problem – you always passed out very fast due to extreme blood loss. But you didn’t want anyone to see you in this state. You knew they didn’t have time to wait until your full recovery.

So, quite honestly, you were relieved that your forearm wasn’t completely ripped off; you were grateful that it was still hanging by that small piece of skin. Growing entire limbs back was not only slow, but disgusting and extremely painful. All you had to do was give your body a little push for it to understand what it needed to do.

With your left hand, you held your forearm and fit the bone back to its place – like two pieces of a puzzle.

Oh fuck it hurts. This time, you had to groan. As the wound was very much open, you could see exactly were the bones should connect; luckily enough, the little gash of flesh didn’t rip off, which would completely disconnect the forearm from the rest of your body. You still heard Annette behind you, but you couldn’t comprehend anything she was saying. You just kept your eyes glued to your arm.

It’s like your body didn’t know what to heal first. Too many wounds. And yet, for the second time that day, you were lucky: the healing decided to act on the arm first.

And oh FUCK how it hurt.

It hurt almost as much as having it injured; you closed your eyes tightly, feeling as the bones started to reconnect, the noise it made – it reverberated in your entire body. And then the nerves were starting to reconnect too like vines and when they did IT HURT HURT HURT HURT because you started to feel the rest of your forearm again, and your fingers had spasms, and then your muscles were also reconnecting and rebuilding, and then finally the wound was closing–

Blank.

You passed out.

When your eyes opened again, you were laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling – Annette and Richter’s tired and horrified faces hovering over you.

Much time mustn’t had passed. Well… that’s what happens when one holds their breath for so long. You turned your head to the side and coughed blood, but after spitting, you felt that you could breathe again – albeit slowly, like your air passage was as thin as a straw; it was a relief anyway. You groaned. The throat wasn’t damaged. Good.

They were saying something, though you weren’t listening. You tried to raise your right arm to no avail; oh, right. The collarbone. It still hadn’t healed. It radiated pain from that point to your fingertips. If there was pain, it meant that the arm was still in the process of healing, although the skin had already patched itself, closing the open wound.

And then your ears started to hear again.

“...too much blood,” Richter’s voice was hurried, borderline desperate. “She’s losing too much blood, we need to do something!”

“Mmm’ okay.”

They stopped their incessant talking and looked down at you.

And then, they gasped when you started to rise, using the strength of your left arm.

“No! Keep lying down!” Annette tried, but you just groaned in response.

You bit your tongue, holding a groan of pain as you managed to sit, both of them resting their hands on your back to support you. There was still pain everywhere – you didn’t even know where to focus first; the pain on your right arm that spread to the shoulder and shattered collarbone, the sharp pressure in your chest that felt like someone heavy was stepping over it, your stomach which was still bleeding as the skin hadn’t regenerated yet, the broken ribs that made each breath hurt, or the blood loss that brought the familiar dizziness and headache.

And still, you looked at Annette.

“Did you get hurt?” you managed to speak somehow.

Her eyes widened. She let out a soft gasp.

“How are you asking that when you’re like this?!” And then you saw it... the look of pure guilt. That’s not what you wanted to achieve with your action – not that you really thought about anything the moment you jumped in front of a night creature.

I don’t die, Annette, is what you wanted to say; you needed them to understand this once and for all – there was no need to worry, no need to feel guilty. This strange body of yours had gone through much worse. Everything would be back in place after a few hours.

You couldn’t say anything, though – because at the same moment, a shockwave of pure agony made your mind go blank.

You closed your eyes tightly. You bit your lower lip, swallowing the scream that wanted to escape. Don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry, you repeated in your mind like a mantra. This time, though, it wasn’t because you were scared of a worse punishment; you just didn’t want to shock these two. They weren’t innocent babies, of course – both were capable of killing, much stronger than you. But they were still young and seeing an ally in such state shouldn’t be easy.

Or maybe you were just putting yourself in highest regards than you actually were.

Still, you kept swallowing more screams and grunts of pain. Richter and Annette eyed you with worry, as you kept your eyes closed for more than a minute without uttering a sound or letting any reaction. You became quite good at the art of acting like you weren’t feeling anything.

After the shockwave dissipated – you knew it would come back; it was always like this with serious injuries – you moved your legs, making clear that you wanted to get up. The two of them hurried to help you to your feet without touching the right side of your body.

Oh… that’s a lot of blood, the conscious 10% of your brain noted. The deep blue gown was drenched in red now on your right side. The world twirled; don’t pass out, don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you repeated, as if it would make any difference.

When your sight focused again, you saw Alucard walking into the gallery.

And if you could speak at that moment, you would’ve asked, why are you soaked?

Yet you didn’t say anything because you watched how his expression changed in seconds. It went from shock – eyes widened, lips slightly parted, brows frowned – to straight up anger.

Once again, it scared you. You didn’t like to see him angry. The idea of Alucard being angry at you was terrifying.

In the blink of an eye he was standing in front of you, holding your left shoulder (oh, you never got used to a vampire’s ability of moving so fast). You flinched, and not because of his touch, but because you knew what anger like that usually followed…

But then – he snapped his head at Richter.

“This would not have happened, Richter Belmont, if you hadn’t told them where we were going!”

You flinched again. His voice genuinely sounded like a hiss. You’d never heard him speak like this before.

He was angry at… Richter?

You couldn’t turn your head anymore, couldn’t look at anything beyond eye level, which was just Alucard’s chest at the moment. Darkness came and went; your hearing worked as if it was underwater – muffled voices, they came and went too.

“She got hurt because of me,” Annette intervened, her tone defensive, guilty and angry, all at the same time. “And it wouldn’t take a sorcerer to predict we’d come to Paris, Alucard. We also thought Drolta was dead. We though you’d killed her.”

PAIN.

It was sharp as if a spear had just pierced your stomach. You closed your eyes again. Don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry… Your ears were still hearing, although you weren’t paying attention to anything anymore. Something something something prepare the city. Something something National Convention. Something something something nests of vampires. Why couldn’t they shut the fuck up for a second?

The world twirled – but this time it was quite literal; Alucard took you in his arms bridal style, having the care to not touch the right side of your body. The ceiling came and went out of focus. You wanted to vomit. Don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry…

He was walking away. If you could speak, you would’ve asked, where are you taking me? You have to destroy Sekhmet’s mummy, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you hurry?

“Why aren’t we coming with you?” Richter asked – or you thought he asked that.

Alucard stopped for a second. “I’ve told you what I need you to do. Do I have to say it again?”

If you could speak, you would’ve said something along the lines of why are you being so mean to him?

But you couldn’t speak, nor could you think. The conscious part of your brain shrunk to barely 5% at the moment another shockwave of agony hit your body – focused on your chest now; it was difficult to breath, you felt the ferrous taste of blood in your tongue. Don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry…

You completely lost notion of time and space (did you black out briefly? Heavens, you hoped not…). When the wave of pain dissipated, you realized that you were no longer in his arms. You were… laying. Over a soft surface.

Your eyes focused again. A wooden ceiling, a window to your right. A… room? Were you laying on a bed? How did you get here?

You tried to sit, only to feel a hand touch your left shoulder.

“Shhh,” Alucard shushed. Oh, he’s still here, sitting on the bed too. “Don’t move.”

“No,” you muttered, or something that sounded like that. “We… ugh… we need to go.”

“You’re in no condition to do anything right now, Ruby.” The anger had disappeared completely. Worry was the only emotion you heard in his soft voice. You groaned again, insisting in sitting up. Alucard left a tsk past his lips, and you thought you heard him whisper “what are you doing, woman?” though you couldn’t be sure about this last part.

Still, he helped you change into a sitting position with your legs hanging from the bed, his hand supporting your back. Yes, this was a small room; simple, a small desk and a chair being the only furniture other than the bed. You wanted to ask where the hell were you, but you mustered your forces to ask what actually mattered at the moment.

“The… mummy…?”

The sight of Alucard was blurry. Still, you saw his eyes drop. He sighed.

“Drolta took it.”

Your heart dropped, too.

If Drolta retrieved the second half of Sekhmet’s mummy… that could mean they wouldn’t need you to summon an eclipse anymore. Which meant you weren’t their upper hand; you were just a useless injured person. Alucard should be preparing to fight, not sitting beside you as you bled–

PAIN.

This time, you couldn’t hold the grunt of pain back; you tightened your eyes, shrunk your shoulders, bent over slightly.

“What is it?” Alucard asked worriedly. “Where does it hurt?”

Fucking everywhere!, is what you wanted to answer.

Cuts, skin or muscle pierced… this type of injury was “easy” to heal, “easy” to handle. But that night creature made much more damage beyond what the eye could see. Your insides were hurt – and the healing of this type of injury was much more violent. You could feel your organs moving, expanding, regrowing, patching; bones reattaching, sending waves of excruciating pain through your entire skeleton. The bleeding must’ve stopped at that point, no more wound was visible on your skin, but that didn’t ease any of the pain at all.

“Mmmmh,” you probably were trying to say something coherent, but nothing came.

“It’s okay,” Alucard shushed softly again. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

His voice wasn’t coming from beside you anymore. You opened your eyes briefly to see that now, he was down on one knee right in front of you. Alucard held your hand (the good one) softly.

“Squeeze my hand if you need it. Just don’t hold yourself back.”

Don’t scream, don’t cry, was the instinct engraved in your very being. And yet, Alucard was asking you to do the exact opposite.

You couldn’t. Not really. You were too good at holding yourself back at this point. However, when another wave of pain came, you squeezed his hand out of instinct, squeezed it tight – and that was the signal Alucard needed. You didn’t open your eyes (even if you weren’t in pain, to look at him so closely would be probably torture). You didn’t see his expression when, with his free hand, he softly touched the back of your head and made you rest your face on his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. His lips were so close to your ear; his deep voice reverberated in your body.

Ninety percent of your brain was yelling in sharp pain. The ten percent that weren’t focused on the way he caressed your hair softly; then, he was caressing your back. Your body trembled, your jaw so tightened that it almost felt that your teeth were going to crash; jolts of pure agony made you want to scream. Your hand squeezed his incessantly to a point you didn’t even realize you were doing it anymore.

Alucard didn’t complain about anything. He stayed there, holding you with care. That 10% part of your brain felt the sweet scent on the crook of his neck, his hand softly caressing your back, the warmth radiating from his body, his voice saying It’s okay and I’m so sorry every time a grunt of pain escaped.

He stayed there until the pain eased. He stayed there until your mind finally gave in and you passed out, embraced by darkness.

“Do you regret it?”

You frown at ???’s sudden question.

“What?” Did you even hear her correctly? The music is a bit too loud.

“Do you regret it? To have chosen this path?”

You look ahead again. Oh... now you understand her question. You can’t blame her for thinking that anyway. You know it’s not easy for most people to understand.

Sun bathes the patio. The air smells of wine, flowers and good food. Most of the guests occupy the center, dancing and talking. Kids run in between them. ??? proudly shows off a beetle to his friends.

“Of course not,” you say with such certainty that no one would dare to question you. “I am much proud of the choices I made.”

And yet, only you know the slight sting in your heart – the tiny loneliness that refused to go away.

The wooden ceiling again.

You stared at it for a long time. The window beside you was opened now. A soft refreshing breeze kissed your skin, just as the afternoon sun rays.

Your body tingled. You stretched the fingers of your right hand. They tingled, too; the push of the muscles on your wrist was a tiny bit painful, but nothing compared to the excruciating agony you felt a while ago.

Then, you moved your right shoulder. Up, down; with your left hand, you touched the collarbone. It… felt normal. You looked down at your body and – hell, that dress was in pieces, damp with your own blood. You were lucky that the corset wasn’t completely ripped, otherwise your chest and torso would be exposed.

You touched the parts where the fabric was teared. The skin… normal. No more pain. No more cramps in your stomach or chest.

Only then did you sigh in relief.

You saw movement with the corner of your eye – and when you turned your head to see Alucard, you completely forgot about the weird dream you just had.

He was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the bed. But, as he heard your sigh, he turned to look at you.

He was close.

Very close.

His white hair was visibly damp. His expression didn’t show much sign of anything as he analyzed your features.

“I didn’t expect you’d wake up so soon,” he said quietly.

And then – you remembered everything.

You gasped, wanting to sit in a jump, but the world twirled and you fell back. Alucard stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to catch you if needed.

“Don’t move so abruptly. You’re still weak.”

“I’m fine...” you didn’t expect that to sound like a whine. Your tongue still tasted like blood.

Alucard sighed. “Stubborn little one, aren’t you?”

You didn’t expect him to call you that – and it immediately made heat creep to your cheeks. This heat was getting too familiar at this point. Nevertheless, he helped you to sit, placing his hand on your back. You held his arm for support.

Alucard wasn’t wearing his cape, his belt, gloves and his coat anymore; the pieces of clothing were hanging from the window. You felt that the sleeve of his white blouse was damp, and that should be the case with the rest of his clothes, too – the black vest, his pants. And then… you noticed he wasn’t wearing his cravat as well, and that the three first buttons of his blouse were opened, exposing just a peek of his collarbones and his chest–

And you had to look away for the sake of your own sanity.

“How long did I sleep?” You asked in a husky voice.

“Not much. An hour and a half, I believe.” This was a relief. At least, he hadn’t wasted much time on you. “Your healing is very fast, indeed. Maybe faster than you’d realized.”

Well… the passage of time was a difficult topic for you anyway, so you never really paid mind to how long it took until you were fully recovered.

“What are you going to do now?” You asked, already feeling apprehension bubble within you. “If Drolta retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… she won’t need me anymore.”

Alucard tightened his lips and looked down. “We must help the city prepare to fight. It’s the only thing we can do right now.”

You nodded slowly, also dropping your eyes. This was the worst case scenario. The Erzsebet you knew was powerful in her own right… an Erzsebet with the entirety of Sekhmet’s power would be hell on Earth. Add that to her legion of powerful vampires – Paris wouldn’t stand a chance, and soon, the entire continent would succumb.

You couldn’t help but think this somehow was also your fault.

You were still holding Alucard’s forearm for support, and he was holding yours, too. His grip was soft, yet firm. It was the first time you were seeing his hand without the gloves. Differently from other vampires, his nails weren’t long and sharp. His fingers were slender; the skin of his palm was surprisingly smooth, given he was a swordsman. And his touch… was much warmer than you were expecting. Vampires are usually unnervingly cold to the touch. Alucard was as warm as a normal human.

“Ruby.”

The way he called your name – so quiet, his voice so small… you’d never heard that tone coming from him. It felt deeply intimate in a way, and you couldn’t explain why. It immediately made you look at him again.

His golden eyes were clouded with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” The breeze coming from the window made yours and his hair sway. You silently blamed it for the goosebumps you felt, and not his voice or his touch or his proximity to you. It looked like Alucard was struggling to find his words – again, a first. “I truly am. I… had no idea that Drolta was alive. I was sure to have finished her back then.”

The mere mention of her name made fear crawl over your skin. “...If we can still call that Drolta, that is,” your voice was merely a whisper, as if saying her name out loud would attract her. “What happened to her?”

Alucard frowned. “It appears she was turned to a night creature, though I fail to understand how she managed to keep her soul. I didn’t know this was possible. I should’ve considered Maria’s father would be a bigger problem to us.” That last sentence was more directed at himself than to you. Maria…? Oh, right. The girl in pink you saw briefly at the ruins in Machecoul. What did her father had to do with anything?

He closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders dropping a bit. “...Actually, I should’ve considered a couple more things before involving you in all this.” And then, he was looking at you again, and you felt that you couldn’t breathe. His gaze was tender and overwhelming at the same time. It’s like he could blur the world outside with his mere presence. “I put you in more danger than I should have. I’m sorry for not taking good care of you.”

Your chest tightened.

Taking care of you, he said; not supervising, not under my responsibility. He said taking care. And once more, it felt intimate. Perhaps you were seeing too much again, wanting to be more important than you were… and yet, you couldn’t help but feel warmth involve you as his words sank in, as if they were a soft blanket in a cold night.

Even if you were seeing too much, you decided to hold onto his words, to keep them as a cherished little secret.

But things didn’t go exactly like that – and you needed to make it clear.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t need to try to comfort for me, Ruby…”

“No, listen to me.” Alucard was caught off guard by your abrupt interruption. “The night creature was going to bite Annette. Those injuries – they were going to happen to her. So I took them instead. She wouldn’t have survived that.”

He seemed speechless for some moments. Then, he quirked one eyebrow up only slightly. “...Wasn’t it a bit extreme?”

Maybe it was his tone that showed how weird he thought you were, but for the first time that day, you managed to chuckle, covering your mouth with your hand. Your reaction surprised Alucard a bit.

You tilted your head to the side. “I was trying to be useful,” you confessed in a tiny voice. “Not dying is the only thing I’m good at, apparently. So I decided to use it to someone else’s advantage.”

Alucard sighed. “Don’t have such little care for yourself. Just because you heal, doesn’t mean you should put yourself through all this willingly.”

That sounded like a reprimand, although he wasn’t being harsh. It made you hesitate. “But… Annette was going to die.”

“I understood that,” he nodded. “And I’m sure she’s grateful to you beyond words. Just try to be more careful from now on.”

It was your turn to nod. You knew he meant you no harm.

Maybe you were still a bit groggy from sleep, or maybe it was the proximity to him and the touch of his hand, or the fact that he appeared a little more open to conversation at that moment that made you feel a little brave – braver than you’d usually be.

You inhaled before talking.

“And I think–“ oh shit, this is a terrible idea. But you’ve already started, so go all the way! “I t-think you were a little too harsh with Richter back there.”

Alucard froze.

That’s it. He’ll hate me from now on. Our little moment will be over, and he’ll just be aloof with me forever.

“So you were conscious.” Was all he muttered. He seemed… hesitant. His eyes tightened a bit. “Is that so?”

You gulped and avoided his gaze.

“I understand that what he did was foolish. But I was there at the moment–“

“Is that so?” His voice almost made you throw yourself out the window – he wasn’t loud and he didn’t sound exactly upset… no, he was teasing you. That was another first.

“...and I know he didn’t do it with bad intentions at all.” You tried to conclude, feeling your cheeks burn. “Richter is… he’s too young, you see? A-And–“ You had to gulp again. “And he admires you a lot. Maybe more than you realize. I think… I think he wouldn’t want to let you down.”

Alucard sighed.

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting go of his grip on your forearm for the first time. And then, you saw it again, that glimpse from the forest: something juvenile about him that he kept very well hidden or very well controlled, at least.

Alucard was almost pouting, in fact.

“I know all that.” He nodded. “But I’ve been searching for Sekhmet’s mummy for the past five years, you see. And the entire mission got compromised because a boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that.

“Oh.” Was all you muttered, feeling a little silly. It was Alucard’s turn to chuckle.

“I understand your point.” He looked up at the ceiling, his eyebrows turned slightly upwards in something that looked like a tired expression. “I guess I’m not used to being around young people anymore. I might’ve… forgotten how they mess up constantly.” For his next sentence, Alucard spoke inwards, almost through gritted teeth: “Well, I guess acting like that grants you two women defending you all the time, so it must be worth it…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head softly. It looked like he wanted to smile, but you weren’t sure. He analyzed you for a moment, then sighed. “I know that ideally, you should rest for the rest of the day, but we’re in a critical situation right now. I must speak to the Revolutionary Commune and the National Convention to warn them about the incoming attack… and you must come with me.”

You nodded. It’s not like you were planning on sleeping anyway; you’d already brought them enough trouble in a single day. Alucard got up from the bed and retrieved his belt, coat and sword, which was leaning on the wall.

“This inn serves food, so I suppose you should eat something before we leave, at least.” He explained as he put the coat on. Oh… so you were in an inn. Right. “And I got you new clothes. There’s a basin with water, too, so get changed.”

Indeed, there was a change of clothes neatly folded over the small desk, which surprised you a bit. When and how did he get you that?

However, as Alucard was starting to step away, another memory from earlier that day hit you like a boulder; you gasped and held his wrist.

“Wait.”

The white-haired vampire looked down at your hands around his wrist, then at your shocked expression and frowned.

“What is it?” He immediately sat down again, his full attention over you.

A strange anxiety made your heartbeat increase. How could you have forgotten about that?

“I know we don’t have time to waste on distractions,” you started in a hesitant, yet rushed tone. “But I must go to the Louvre again.”

His frown deepened. “Why?”

“I found something there.” You looked up at him with round eyes – a mix of amazement and fear, perhaps. “When I was trying to hide from the night creature. I found this… thing inside one of the boxes. And it reacted to my touch.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. But it was… it was magic. I think it’s a scepter, though I’m not sure. And there’s writings on the same language from the book. Remember that book I talked about? The book they made me read to summon the eclipses?”

Alucard nodded. He held his chin, pensive.

“It’s not a surprise that there’d be magical items there. Many antiques carry magic. Museums are full of these things, though I doubt the curators are aware of any of it.” He hesitantly looked up at you. “It… might not mean much.”

“But it might mean much.” Out of instinct, you gripped the fabric of the skirt nervously and looked down. “I’m sorry for asking you this. I don’t want to slow you down. B-But I feel that’s important. I… haven’t remembered anything important up until now…”

Except the memory of you father, you thought, but I won’t talk about that with you yet.

The seconds he took to speak again felt like torture. Finally, he sighed.

He rested his hand over your nervous ones. You froze.

“I guess I should find us a horse, then.” Alucard didn’t sound upset at your request. “Luckily, the Louvre isn’t far from here.”

You looked up at him. At that moment, the smile was impossible to hold back.

“Thank you.”

Alucard smiled back – one of his tranquil tiny smiles, his eyebrows slightly curved upwards.

It probably didn’t last more than three seconds, but in your head, that little moment extended for much longer. It was enough to make your stomach feel funny, and this time it had nothing to do with the pain you endured mere hours ago. The warmth radiating from his hand over yours seemed to spread through your whole body. Was it inappropriate to admit that you liked it? Should you be ashamed of yourself? Did Alucard felt the same way, even if it was just a fraction of the feeling?

...the ambrosial smell, the honeyed taste…

Alucard closed his eyes for a moment.

“Let’s hurry.” He got up again. “Can you stand up on your own?”

A part of you wanted to say no just so you could have an excuse to hold his hand again, but you were far too embarrassed to even try something so sly. You got up and grabbed the change of clothes. It smelled of soap.

Alucard was already holding the doorknob when you remembered another very important thing – and it immediately made your cheeks feel burning hot.

The type of gown you wore wasn’t made to be easy to dress or undress on your own.

“Hm, Alucard…” you called, which made him stop and look at you. “Could you… help…?”

You sheepishly pointed to your back with your thumb.

You weren’t brave enough to look at him.

The fact that Alucard hesitated a second to answer made you want to run away.

“Oh. Of course.” His voice didn’t show any surprise. The white-haired vampire let go of the doorknob and approached. You turned around, holding the change of clothes close to your chest, your back as stiff as a board.

The fact that you couldn’t see him didn’t make the situation easier. You could feel his presence right behind you, standing so close; when his fingers touched the lace of the corset, you instinctively held your breath. His fingers were agile and precise, his touch was feather light.

That felt awkwardly intimate.

Maids always dressed and undressed you. They didn’t really care about being delicate whenever they touched your body. They despised you, and you despised them, so these acts never felt intimate. At that moment, however…

Don’t think too much about it, you scolded yourself. It’s nothing special.

You’d like to tell that to your bubbling stomach.

Once again, you probably had a really distorted notion of time, because although Alucard was being fast, it felt like it took him ages. He untied the lace up until a point where you could finish it yourself.

“Done.” He announced in a quiet voice.

You managed to mutter a strangled thank you before you heard his steps and the sound of the door closing behind you.

Only then did you breathe again.

You got rid of the destroyed gown as fast as you could. There was a cloth inside the water basin, which you used to clean the dried blood from your body the best way you could. As impolite as it was, you had to spit out the window, trying to get rid of the horrible ferrous taste that still lingered in your tongue.

The clothes Alucard gave you were more similar to what you saw other women wear on the streets: a long sleeved white blouse, a skirt at mid-calf height and a sleeveless vest that shared the same moss green tone. Your closet consisted on either beautiful ball gowns or simple nightgowns, so to be able to wear something so light and so easy to dress by yourself was a relief.

There was a small mirror hanging on the wall. When you saw your reflection, you immediately wet your hands and passed them through your hair, trying to lower the wild strands, and decided to tie it in a tight bun.

That’s when you saw the last piece of clothing you hadn’t noticed before.

It was a ribbon tie.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your fingers working on tying it, you… noticed something.

The dress was simpler than what you were used to wear, yes – it wasn’t something for a special occasion, after all. But… the chiffon collar was quite pretty. The vest and the skirt were well sewn, too, and fit your body perfectly. The cufflinks of the blouse were golden. And the bow tie… its color complimented your eyes.

It didn’t exactly seem like it was an outfit chosen in a hurry. It looked like… some thought was put into it.

Your cheeks felt hot for some reason.

Don’t think too much about it, you repeated. It’s nothing special.

At last, you opened the door. You were surprised to see Alucard leaning with his back on the wall beside it, his arms crossed.

His eyes wandered on your entire figure, though his expression didn’t change.

You held his cape and gloves nervously and cleaned your throat.

“I believe they’re dry enough now.” Alucard nodded and took them. While he put his cape over his shoulders, you hesitated before finally voicing the question: “May I ask how did you get wet?”

“I fell in the Seine.” He replied in a deadpan tone, his eyes glued on his hands as he put the gloves on.

“Oh.”

Finally, he lifted his gaze to you again.

He stepped closer.

For a moment, it seemed that he wanted to say something, which made you look up at him in expectation. He was… expressionless. Maybe. But there was something you couldn’t decipher in his eyes. Something you weren’t brave enough to ask. Something that appeared… inviting, somehow.

Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Alucard’s eyes dropped to your collar.

You held your breath when he touched the ribbon tie delicately. Did he nod in an almost imperceptible motion or were you imagining things?

“Let’s go.” He said in the same nonchalant tone as always before walking towards the stairs at the end of the corridor.

You were frozen in place for a few seconds.

Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Yes, right. Ninety percent of your brain agreed on this. You were under his responsibility, after all. Alucard wasn’t especially rude towards anyone, as far as you knew (well, except for Richter sometimes). That’s how he acted with everyone. And besides that, you had much more important matters at hand. There wasn’t time to be distracted.

Yes, right. You walked towards the stairs in a hurry to match his pace. Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Right.

And yet – the tiny ten percent of your brain kept stubbornly whispering in the back of your consciousness:

Was it not, really?

[s1rawb3rry]

Riding Circles Around You

synopsis: Y/N spirals after seeing her ex... completely unaware to the fact that her closest friend, Heeseung, has been quietly falling for her all along.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, no smut, some touching, cussing, some angst tbh, low self-esteem, established friendship, heeseung is completely whipped for y/n while shes oblivious to it, hee is kinda a loser in love (i need him so bad...), so really its loser in love x loser also in love but doesnt know it yet

genres: uni AU, slice of life, student!heeseung x student!reader

pairing: enhypen Heeseung x reader

a/n: some tooth rotting hee fluff to satisfy my sweet tooth hehe, enjoyyyy

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli @kireistrawberryjayla (comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

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I have been in the same position for the last 2 hours. Sat on the floor, my laptop opened but the screen turned off a long time ago. My eyes lazily, and without purpose, move from my reflection on my laptop screen, to my socks, to the posters hung on my dorm’s walls. My wall clock reads 11:30ish am, I exhaled. I have already wasted so much time... but my frame feels too heavy to move. I have so much work to get to, but this empty– yet heavy– feeling overpowered my actions and thoughts. All I could feel is the crisp, late night air coming from my window into my suffocatingly small room, my messy hair softly moved with the breeze. 

I never knew seeing my ex, let alone with his new girlfriend, would paralyse me this much. We broke up a year ago and even left on good terms. I am genuinely over him, so my perplexity grew when I noticed how small I suddenly felt. I have no reason to feel any of this.  But for some reason, I do. And I hate that I do.

When the image of them together appeared again in the back of my eyes, I winced. It's exactly how I saw them a couple hours ago, my mind refusing to forget the image of the perfect couple: her arms wrapped around his, both of them laughing with that stupidly-in-love smile. His laughter died down before hers did, he looked at her as if she's the one who hung the stars in the sky. They looked at each other as if they were the only two people on earth, which worked in my favor because they didn't notice me. 

My clothes suddenly feel suffocatingly warm on my skin the more details I recall. My laptop was pushed to the side by my feet as I laid on the cool floor, trying to soothe down my burning body. Guilt started to eat at my bones when I noticed that I foolishly hated seeing him happier with her. I wished him and still wish well, but seeing that in front of me is different. It feels like I failed at something that I didn't even want to be anymore. Failed at being a girlfriend. That familiar feeling sank in my chest, the feeling of worthlessness and incompetence in every domain in my life. 

Before I could continue my warfare in my mind and list down my failures as a friend and a daughter, I heard a vibrating sound next to me, followed by my phone screen turning on, illuminating my dim dorm room. My heavy hand reached out for it while I stayed immobile. After blinking a few times to adjust to the brighter light, the text message became clearer.

“Hey, I will be at my dorm soon. We can facetime in 10”  - "Dumbass", Delivered 1 min ago

“Oh fuck me…” i mumbled under my breath, i completely forgot. Heeseung asked me to help him with this project a week ago. My heavy hands struggled to keep my phone up, feeling even more suffocated. Figures, keep proving what a great friend you are…

“hi, I'm sorry. I really don’t feel well… Can we reschedule?”  - "Me", delivered 3 sec ago

I froze in front of my phone, waiting for a response. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms sweaty. A second later my message was read. Another second later… nothing. I stayed in this position for 3 whole minutes, my eyes pacing between the time and the 'me, read 4 mins ago'. 

I turned off my phone, placed it on my chest and succumbed to my new reality: I’m a shitty friend, a shitty girlfriend and a shitty human. I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling as if it could offer some sympathy or even relief from the sinking feeling in my chest. I closed my eyes to fight the tears that were threatening to come out. 

My phone buzzed again. My eyes flew open, How long have I been sleeping? I didn't want to check my phone, but my hand moved on its own.

“Look out your window. I might be outside with snacks.“ - "Dumbass", Delivered 30 sec ago

I frowned back at my screen, what is he talking about? Before I could figure out what to reply or do, faint jingles of a bell rang from outside my window. I rose to my feet in an instant and walked to my window. As my eyes scanned the quiet street, the faint jingles rang again. “I’m down here,” a voice whispered before chuckling. 

My eyes shifted to the source. There he was, Hee leaning against his bike, looking up at me like this was the most normal thing in the world. He wore his washout blue jeans and his worn out sneakers. His black hood covering his messy, slightly grown out hair. A small white plastic bag could be seen in his bike basket. When our eyes met, his smile grew and I contagiously smiled back. “Hee, what the hell?” I whispered back to him, amusement and confusion laced my voice. 

“Stop treating me like a food delivery service and come down.”  he whispered, adjusting his grip on his bike.  I hesitated for a second, still processing the absurdity of this situation. For just a second, he did look like a food delivery guy, I couldn’t help it but laugh. “You’re insane,” I muttered, shaking my head. A strange pull made me want to go see him,  “I will grab my phone. Give me a minute.” I said before disappearing back to my dorm.

As soon as I opened my door and headed toward the stairs, I could hear his bike bell ring again, faint and playful, like it was telling me to hurry. I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugged at my lips as I sped down the stairs. 

“Are you trying to wake up the whole building?” I asked once I reached the bottom. As I was walking towards him, he smiled at me, “just making sure you don't bail on me again.” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. I grimaced, remembering everything that just happened these past hours. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, not daring to look into his, “Hee, I'm so sorry. That was-" I started apologising but was cut off when I felt something tough and cold wrap my head. I opened my eyes once again to find his gaze softened, making that sinking feeling in my chest less heavy. 

“Hey, you’re fine,“ he said, his voice lower, adjusting the helmet on my head. “I’m not mad.” he continued, his eyes reassuring. I stayed quiet, words slipped away from me as I looked back into his big eyes. His big grin came back before he turned his back to me, “But I will only get you off the hook if you get on.”

I stared at him, puzzled, as he climbed on his bike. “Where are we going?” I asked, my body naturally finding its seat behind him, my arms instinctively wrapped around him. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.” he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

As I opened my mouth to argue, he jerked the handlebars quickly, making the whole bike shake. I yelped and, out of reflex, tightened my grip around him. His laugh echoed as I tried to catch my heart from the sudden movement. 

Before I could say anything, he pushed his leg and had the wheels rolling in a swift motion. The cool night air hit me immediately as we rode through the quiet campus, the breeze felt more refreshing than in my room.  The steady rhythm of the bike’s movement is oddly soothing, making my rest my cheek against his back. The warmth from him was a quiet contrast to the slight chill of the night. For the first time today, my thoughts weren’t so loud.

The campus lights blurred as we passed, we flickering through the trees, until finally, the buildings thinned and I spotted the dim glow of streetlights ahead. He slowed the bike to a stop and kicked the stand into place. He placed a gentle hand on my thigh, grounding me back to reality, “we’re here...” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, pulling my head away from his back. My eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings, taking in the empty space ahead. A playground. I unwrapped my arms from him and planted my feet on the ground. He nodded towards the swings, “c’mon, sit.” he said before he started to fish something out of his basket.

I started dragging my legs towards the swing as they found that heavy feeling again. I flopped on the swing’s seat, slowly swaying my feet as I lean my head on the swing’s cold metal chains. That feeling still clung to me—the weight in my chest, the unease I couldn’t quite shake. 

Hee pulled something out of the basket and started walking over. He held a small crinkly bag in front of me, it took me a moment to adjust to the lack of light to see what it was. My eyes widened once I realized, “Oh, you're kidding…”

He smiled at my reaction and tossed the bag of Hershey’s chocolate dipped pretzels into my lap. “I still judge you for loving those…” he said, watching me rip open the bag and pop one in my mouth, completely ignoring his comment. “Thank you,” I said, my words muffled by the heavenly pretzel in my mouth. 

As I chewed, I felt the swing creak beneath me. Hee’s presence lingered behind me, his hands brushing against my back. With a gentle push, I began to sway slowly, back and forth. “Alright,” he said, disturbing the quiet, “what’s going on?” 

For a moment, I let the swaying movement calm me, ignoring his question and the tight feeling it created in my chest. “I’m fine,” I said finally, keeping my eyes glued to my lap and the ground. I couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure he had that expression— the one that said he could tell I was lying. His voice was quieter now, “You don’t look fine.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “I just saw my ex today…” I started, unsure how to start telling him everything. “Hated that guy,” he said abruptly, his voice laced with disgust. I snorted a laugh, “you hate all my exes.” I said, looking up at him while still swaying in the swing. 

“Yeah, can you blame me? He looks like a spoon.” he remarked. I bursted out laughing, making my swing halt its movement.

When my laughter died down, I found Hee unmoved behind me, looking at me with those bambi eyes. He brushed my hair out of my face, gently collecting it to the back, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

The softness in his tone made my heart beat a little stronger. His warm hands lingered around my face and neck, leaving a buzzing feeling on my skin. “I don’t know…” I drifted off, trying to figure out what to say without sounding pathetic, “I think seeing him again, and seeing him happy, made me realise how I wasn’t enough for him. That made me think I wasn't enough for anyone or anything.” 

Heeseung didn’t say anything right away, he just kept brushing my hand with his hands. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “you were enough for him. If he didn’t see that, that’s on him, not you.” he continued, “And the idea that you’re not enough for anyone or anything? We both know that's bullshit.”

I exhale, nodding in agreement, “I know, my thoughts escalated faster than I could ration, I believe.” I said, looking in front of me, focusing on the dimly lit playground. 

No more words were exchanged, the silence between us stretched for a moment. You could only hear the sound of my swing swaying. I could feel the breeze against my face, the sound of the night, and his presence behind me, steady and comforting. As I was lost in my – much calmer– thoughts, my eyes landed on his parked bike. 

“Hee?” I called out.

“Yes, pretty girl?” 

“I have a confession to make.” I announced. I could feel his touch on my back lose its rhythm for a moment, “you’ve got my full attention.” 

“I don’t know how to ride a bike.” I said calmly as a matter of fact, keeping my gaze in front of me. I furrowed my brows when I felt him completely pause his movement, making me turn around. When he saw my face, it dawned on him, “oh, you’re not joking." he said, almost to himself. “Why would I be joking?” I shot back, popping another pretzel in my mouth. 

“How have you managed this long without knowing?” He asked, sounding surprised. I shrugged, “been a passenger princess since birth,” I winked, looking up at him. He laughed, slowly moving from behind me, his hands leaving my shoulders. I watched his figure grab the bike and walk it right in front of me with a small grin, “Well, guess it’s time to change that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “I'm not so sure about that.” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, see it as an apology for canceling our plans,” he insisted, tilting his head to the side. I looked at the bike and then at him, those big bambi eyes looking back at me again.

I sighed in defeat and got up from the swing. He held the bike in balance while I held the handlebars and perched myself on the seat. I could feel the weight of the bike under me, “You want to kill me,” I whispered in disbelief. 

He laughed, “you got this, doll. Just go in a straight line. I will stay right next to you.” 

I took a deep breath and pushed my leg off the ground, making the bike move forward. The motion was jerky, “Oh my god,” I muttered to myself, trying to focus on keeping the bike steady. Hee was right behind me, “that's it…” he encouraged. I tried to focus, but the bike wobbled wildly beneath me, the wheels turning too fast, and my legs couldn’t keep up with the movement. I tried to straighten myself, instead I overcorrected, veering to the left, no longer having control over the bike. 

I shrieked as I crashed straight into him, sending both of us tumbling onto the grass. The bike clattered beside us, as we tried to catch our breaths from the adrenaline and the laughter. “I think you need more than just a straight line,” he said between laughs, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.

As the laughter faded, we stayed lounged on the grass, facing each other. His eyes were closed, but a clear smile on his face. My own eyes studied and traced the outlines of his features while I could, quietly soaking in the moment. "You really didn’t have to do any of this,"

He opened his eyes, catching my gaze. He shrugged. "Yeah, well... it’s for you."

[fanbasetwo]

dilf! ricky or gyuvin having corruption kink

I think this was for seoktized’s dilf series but accidentally sent to mine, so I won't make this a fic but I can definitely see it.

For example, imagine yourself there to simply watch his four-year-old baby boy while Gyuvin, a wealthy single father, hires you. As a nineteen-year-old, you accepted the job because it paid well, but you never considered what would happen after.

The boy took pleasure in corrupting you after learning that you were a virgin. Playing with your pussy, touching you in places you were unaware existed, and teaching you new things (consensually ofc).

He would play with your pussy with two fingers and murmur in your ear, “Yeah, princess likes it?” “nghh s-sir—” He interrupted the sentence by saying, “just Gyuvin for you,” and you were forced to nod foolishly as his fingers hit that spot.

Or him tearing your garments to shreds, watching your soft titties bounce beneath him as he covers your mouth with his own and repeatedly presses his big, throbbing cock into your soft pussy. Then he pushes in to fill the warm hole with his hot, sticky cum, making it so creamy and messy that it gets all over between your legs.

And then perhaps distracted by his son's cries, he then gets up quickly, licks his fingers clean, gives you a quick wink, and leaves the room to tend to his son as though he hadn't just done all of that. LIKE HELLO, SIR?

© fanbasetwo | tumblr | 2025 | all rights reserved

[erenjaegerwifee]

Obsession

Survive the Night: Day 7

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, manipulation, yandere behavior, crazy and delusional reader, mentions of killing, stabbing, blood, poisoning, explicit language, praising, sweet hard sex, love making? PLOT TWIST, p in v, mirror sex, virginity loss, choking, orals (f & m receiving), belly bulge, lactation kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink,

Word Count: 6.9k

Disclaimer: All of my characters are aged-up! If that makes you uncomfortable please feel free to scroll and don’t read or interact with my post or account.

Neteyam’s father and your father are best friends, ever since his first time jake was introduced to the omatikaya clan all those years ago, they developed into close friends, there was nothing Jake did without your father by his side, they passed their rights of passage together, earning their ikran at the same time. They went on every hunt together and introduced their wives who became great friends as well. They even had children at the same time, all kids were both within months of each other, that includes you and Neteyam.  

You have always been a shy small girl, your only imagine to the world was innocence, you wanted no part in the hunting of Eywa’s creatures or just fighting in general. Even though you are the oldest, your siblings and the sully children made it their business to protect you; you don’t even carry a knife on hand just in case, someone is always by your side, sometimes even Tuktirey.  

Now, even though people perceive these things about you from a very young age, doesn’t mean you are unaware of how to use them, one could argue you are the best weapons master in the clan, you wield a bow almost as well as a professional archer, you have seamless movements with a knife of any kind and you even have amazingly good aim on a gun. But if anyone thought you were the kind of girl to pick up a knife and murder someone, well you would be in a lot of trouble.  

I mean how could you not in these situations? Any sane person would. You have had a crush on Neteyam for practically your whole life, well it’s not really a crush now, it’s more like you are in love with him, you truly believe that no other man would come close to satisfying you the way he would. Everyone knows you like him, but no one is aware just how deep that love runs, it’s in your veins, your blood, every cell in your body screams a want for Neteyam Sully and only him.  

It really irritated you the way women throw themselves do foolishly at your man like you're not going to do anything about it, for example the time you walk into the sully kelku to see your siblings and the sully kids sitting in a circle, “Hi everyone” you smile sweetly as they all greet you before your eyes catch an unfamiliar woman. You do not socialize much, the extent of your friends sits in this room and you are content, you see no need to look for more company, these people care for you and well, your man is already included in this circle of friend, so who on Eywa’s planet is this girl? 

You were previously going to sit next to said man but your space is taken, you wipe the little pout of your face and move to sit next to lo’ak who is the only one who seemed to read your mind, “Hey angel! What’s up?” your eyes dart to neteyam and the girl and you pout innocently at Lo’ak, “Oh nothing, just finished my shift at the healers hut, who’s that?” you said gesturing your head to the girl. 

She sat close to him, a little too close, her hand rested on his arm as she laughs obnoxiously at whatever joke he just said. She wants him, Neteyam isn’t that funny, but there he was smiling victoriously at her laughter, it made you sick. How dare he, that should be you laughing at his lame jokes. It should always be you.  

“That’s Akira, she is Neteyam latest escapade, personally I don’t really like her, she’s not that nice to everyone else” you soak in his information plotting how to fix this broken situation, you glance at her throughout the time you sat as you speak to everyone else, always subtly cutting off her sentences with your own sweet voice or purposefully ignoring her and changing the topic, it was clear she was getting a little more than irritated at your actions until she finally snapped and shouted at you to ‘shut the fuck up and stop interrupting her’  

Your heart beat picks up and you look at her startled before the water works form making her look bad for yelling at sweet little you, it surely made everyone dislike her more than they already did, that included Neteyam giving her a mean side eye before he came to sit on the other side of you to wipe your tears. He felt protective of you because of the innocent aura you put out. It is only natural he is a protector, your protector.  

It got worse for her though, after that day a week later Kiri invited her to one of your infamous girl days, you guys usually hang out and braid each other's hair, all that fun stuff. But this time she tried so hard to insert herself and honestly, she is a nice girl, it really was her fault for trying to fuck your man like that. Kiri ran home to get the combs and beads you forgot by accident leaving you alone with her.   

She was the one who brought up talking a walk, you thought it was strange but decided what’s the worst that could happen? She isn’t leaving here with her life anyways. You walk deeper into the forest and made your way next to an incredibly steep cliff, you knew if someone fell down there, no one would be about to find them. It was perfect. You walk over closer to the edge looking down at the rough flowing river beneath you ignoring her cautious words to be careful, she shouldn’t have come out here with you if careful was what she wanted to be.  

You stop a pretty looking flower growing right off the cliff, it wasn’t that far but you could reach it but Akira, she was taller. You called her over in a sweet voice and activated that innocent look you use to get your way and asked her to pick the flower for you. She stretched her neck to see it before getting down on her hands and knees bending down over the cliff to get it. You took a quick glance around before you kicked her off the cliff. 

You stood up watched over the cliff as she fell but caught herself on the same branch the flower was on, she looked up at you begging for you to save her but come on, you weren’t nearly as strong enough to pull her heavy ass up, not that you were going to try, you sat on the edge resting one of your feet on the branch before looking at her terrified expression, listening to her pleads you smile sickly, “You should have thought about what would happen to you before you got all up on my man, in case you aren’t sure which man that is whore, its Neteyam he is my future mate, he is going to love me forever, you well your trash. And now I get to through you out”  

You tilt you head laughing wickedly at her when you strike down the branch with a sharp blow breaking it. You watch her fall to her screaming death; it is only when her body fell into the rocky waves did you step back and walk to the clearing you were previously seated at.  

You made good time too, Kiri came back a couple minutes after you without suspecting a thing and asked about Akira’s whereabouts, you brushed her off changing the subject after saying ‘she wanted to go for a walk’ which wasn’t a lie. The day passed and the clan sent trackers out looking for her, Neteyam was distraught, but why is the question, you got rid of his problem not his life. You rolled your eyes but still sat next to him saying the obvious lie ‘I’m sure she will turn up.’ Her dead body was found 4 days later, broken up and ravaged by animals down the river about 2 miles from the clan. 

In the end that worked out easily for you, all of them were not so easy to make happen, like the time with a different girl Sura, she was a warrior like Neteyam, she trained alongside him every day. It was no secret she didn’t like you, she always thought your innocence was fake, while she was right no one believed her dumb comments because you would always cry, she was a bitch when you had to be the one to patch up her wounds, everyone was under the impression you were scared of her. 

It worked out well for you, since she already didn’t like you, it was easy enough to blame everything on her. It started simply with you playing a little more dumb than usual but not enough for people to get suspicious of you. Just enough to piss her off though. She liked Neteyam so you made it your business to be present whenever you could, bringing him food, refilling his water bottle, even just sitting and watching him train. 

Not that he ever said anything but you know he liked having you around him like that, paying real attention to the person that he was and not his title or his cock, not that you would mind paying attention to that cock, you see the bulge in his loincloth all the time, makes you want to wiggle your ass against his crotch and make him mount you. But you don’t mind waiting for it, I mean he is your future husband, he’ll mount you eventually.  

One day you got to the training grounds a bit earlier than Neteyam on purpose, it was great because you knew Sura was already there, along with a few other warriors in his training unit. You sat on a log spewing some dumb shit and laughing obnoxiously with the group making sure your voice was dumb and pitched just the way she hates it.  

It worked out well when she started making fun of your voice making some admittingly good insults but it wasn’t fun for her when their group leader, Neteyam catch her doing so and scolded the entire unit, making them all run laps after laps while he wraps your crying figure in her arms comforting you for the rest of the session. The look on her face was beautiful jealousy.  

When everyone dispersed and Neteyam trailed after one of his warriors to speak with him, he left you alone with her. Big mistake. You walked up to her and as she was about to tell you off like a big girl, you grab the knife off her hip and stab her in the stomach watching her fall to the ground, “remember bitch he is mine. You did this to yourself when you decided to touch what wasn’t yours” then you stab her again for good measure in the neck watching the blood ooze onto the green grass.  

Afterwards you take the knife and stab yourself in the thigh and then pulling it out and screaming Neteyam name so loud you made the surrounding birds fly away. When he came rushing back to you, you cried some bullshit about how she attacked you saying she was in love with him and you were getting in her way. He wrapped up your wound with a cloth and picked you up in his arms and ran to the healer's tent.  

It was amazing how no one questioned your story but how could they be when you were crying so hysterically you didn’t want to let go of Neteyam, when they did rip you out of his arms and pushed him out of the tent so they could work on healing your wound, you cried murderously in the hut, the entire clan heard the commotion and screaming you caused just wanting Neteyam to be with you. You fought and kicked and screamed not wanting to be anywhere else other than in his strong arm.  

He sat outside that hut listening to your screaming of his name feeling horribly, he thinks it’s all his fault you were hurt and now he can’t even help you. Tears sting his eyes as he heard your pitched voice calling out for him to make them stop hurting you. Lo’ak sat right next to him with a hand on his shoulder knowing it was hard for Neteyam to keep it together.  

After that for the next few weeks, you wouldn’t leave Neteyam’s side. Saying how grateful you were he was there to save your life, how safe you feel with him like no one can hurt you, you even slept over at their house every so offend with the excuse of being without him would put you in danger. Both your parents thought it was cute how stuck up you became on him, how well he took care of you, always making sure to clean and dress your wound, helping you get back on your feet and walking properly. He even went as far as to skip out of hunting trips because you cried about how much you didn’t want him to go. And neteyam never complained, he sat without you through the tough nights and all the crying episodes like a real husband would, you knew he was your perfect one and only, now he has to see that.  

The cycle repeated itself for a few years, girl meets Neteyam, girl wants neteyam, girl tries to make a move, girl dies. The endless cycle is getting a bit tiring honestly, you are ready to be mated now, you saved your virginity just for him while he was out and about sticking his dick in anything that breathes. You aren’t supposed to be mad, but the thought makes you fume. He has you, why would he want anyone else. 

You can’t count how many times you had an interaction with him and ran away to take care of yourself, or when you would go home for the day hot and bothers to stick your fingers into your already wet cunt, not the mention the nights you spent next to him when you would use his hand, grinding on his fingers to get some release while he’s asleep, those are by far the best times. 

The point is you are tired of having to do it on your own, you put so much work into this relationship, why can’t it just go your way for once, but low and below neteyam has other plans, his new girl, Nanti. Shes a fellow healer like you, you don’t really consider her a friend but she is a nice girl, she has done nothing but treat you nicely, until you saw her sitting next to Neteyam on the log about 30 feet away from you.  

You know she is a great healer, but not better than you though. But she is one of the healers that specialize in poison, she works mainly to find cures for the different poisons that have been exposed to the na’vi. Her team makes real head way, they do good work. But she did make it awfully easy to frame her. 

For the past few weeks since she has been hanging out with Neteyam, you started to spend more time with another woman in that unit of healing, your excuse being you wanted to expand your healing horizon, and who would question such a sweet girl? You learned about all kinds of different liquids and powders along with their antidotes that can easily kill people in minutes. You questioned and questioned until you found the perfect one. It was a light blur powder, almost grey that when added to any liquid it immediately melts blending in the drink. It was taste less and odorless, and best off all it had an antidote, it was perfect.

Despite you wanting to use it on her, you decided you killed the last girl, you should take it up a notch so you can really get Neteyam to yourself for good. The poison only takes a few minutes to take effect but you are such the antidote works effectively as soon as you inject it. The poison is meant to thin your blood so you start to bleed internally before you die. It was fast working though, killing fully grown na’vi in just 20 minutes.  

Since tonight was yet another clan celebration, you decided it’s the perfect time to carry out another one of your sick plans. You walk up to the group sitting next to Nanti casually, you slip your drink slowly, that already had the poison mixed in it and paced yourself until you had to pee. When you got up you handed your drink over to Nanti to hold until you returning making sure at least one person saw you do so.  

When you did return after a few minutes you took the drink back from her and took a big gulp then a few more to finish the drink in the next few minutes, then you waited. It was a nerve racking few minutes you almost regretted it but you knew earlier on you had slipped the antidote shot in Nanti bag making her look even more suspicious, why would you have an antidote if you didn’t have the poison? 

When you coughed for the first couple times it caught the attention of Lo’ak and Kiri cutting off their conversation to ask if you are alright, after you said you were just fine, they continued. Then you had a second coughing fit this time Neteyam noticed and it was a good time too because this time you coughed some blood up into your palm. You look up at Neteyam with teary, scared eyes. 

He made quick work pushing Lo’ak to get their dad who was sitting a couple tables away drinking with norm and your father and he rushed to your side. When they arrived, you glanced at Nanti a couple times to make sure someone knew you suspected her, Lo’ak was the only one who noticed, everyone else was caught up on helping you.  

Norm whipped out his tablet and took a blood swap rapidly testing it to find out what was causing you to cough up blood, when the test came back positive with the specific poison Lo’ak was quick to speak up, “Nanti what the fuck? What did you do to her?” 

Neteyam tried to defend that bitch but Lo’ak was quick to cut him off, “You are thinking with the wrong head idiot, she is the only person here that knows this much about poison.” Neteyam was shut up after that and Nanti took her turn to speak up, “What?! I didn’t poison her! She was hanging around my healing unit the pass couple weeks she has just as much knowledge as I do” she really tried to defend herself but Lo’ak wasn’t buying that and truthfully now neither was Neteyam, “And why would she poison herself?” Neteyam spoke up looking up at Nanti that stood next to his crouched figure next to you. 

“You- *cough cough* poisoned me?” you stutter out looking up at her with scared eyes, “Antidote?” you asked to no one in particular ignoring the way she pleaded for everyone to believe she didn’t poison you. “There is an antidote but, it takes about 30 minutes to properly make, you only have about 10 minutes left...” Norm said solemnly as if you didn’t stash and antidote in Nanti’s bag, but to be fair he didn’t know that. 

Luckily for you it clicked in Neteyam’s brain, she wouldn’t bring poison without an antidote, just for good measure. While Lo’ak and your father were arguing with norm to at least to make the antidote, Neteyam stoon up to Nanti, towering over her, “Where is the antidote?” his voice was eerily calm. She stepped back away from his figure telling him the same ‘I don’t know.’ Neteyam didn’t let her get far when he yanked her arm causing her to yelp catching the attention of the other men.  

“I’m not letting her die, where is it?” he ignored the growl of his name coming from his father as they try to make him let her go, “Neteyam I didn’t do this! I do not have the antidote, see?” she emptied the contents of her bag on the floor and the injection fell out. You watch her expression fall to her ass when he picks it up handing it to norm to inject you. He ignored her pleads towards him when he kneeled next to you once more at your side. You were in so much pain but you wanted so badly to laugh at her expression. It was amazing the things you can do when you set your mind to it.  

 After the celebration was over you were laying in the healers’ hut resting until the antidote works its way through your entire body properly, it stopped you from dying but the poison was still in there. Lo’ak and your sister sat next to you making jokes trying to cheer you up when Neteyam walked in. He had been previously discussion forms of punishment with his father about the matter and they settled for death. It wasn’t fair to her since she didn’t do anything but you could not find it in yourself to be mad about it, she did this to herself.  

You turned away from him ignoring him when he walked in and kneeled on the other side of you, you know your sister and Lo’ak saw you do that but didn’t interrupt when Neteyam tried to get your attention. “Angle are you ok? Feeling any better?” he asked in a soft voice as he ran his large hand over your head. “Am I ok? Are you out of your mind Neteyam? I don’t even want to have to explain this to you” you roll your eyes and push his hand off you. “What? What are you-” he started but you cut him off 

“Do you seriously not see this pattern? Every time you bring one of you girls around me i get attacked or insulted and not poisoned. How you counted how much times one of your little girlfriends has called me dumb or stupid? Like the time I got pushed off that high tree, or when that one crazy bitch stabbed me? It was all because I wanted to be your friend, all because I wanted to be around you. I almost lost my life today because another one of your crazy chicks tried to kill me. Just stop dating at this point” you look up to the ceiling pretending to stop the fake tears that begin pouring out your eyes. 

Neteyam feels awful it’s all his fault, he didn’t mean for those things to happen to you, and you are right, you truthfully have been by his side through thick and thin. Anything that has ever happened in his life you were a part of. It wasn’t fair you had to go through all of this just because you wanted to be around him. “Honestly bro, you’d both probably be a lot safe of you dated each other. We would stop having to ward off horny men cause Eywa forbid a woman approached your girl and she would stop dying every month”  

Neteyam rested on the comment for a minute before you spoke up, “Oh please, I’m not his type.” you roll your eyes wiping your tears. Neteyam gestured for Lo’ak and your sister to leave before he responded to your comment. “Who said you aren’t my type? I happen to like crazy girls apparently, although, those other chicks weren’t crazy, were they? You just had fun framing and killing them.” 

His words catch you off guard, before Mo’at busted into the healing tent telling you that you were cleared to leave. His words didn’t stop pondering in your mind as soon as she left you innocently questioned him, “What? What did you say?” you asked confusedly. “Why don’t I get you home then we can talk” he didn’t take you to your home, he took you to his. 

Neteyam had recently built an extension of his family hut for himself. A room equip with everything he needed including privacy because he is of mating age now and when he does bring a woman home, he wants her to be comfortable. He pulled the flap to the main entrance of the family hut for you to enter in and you see Jake and Lo’ak sitting in the common area talking. You both greet them and they ask how you are feeling which you give a sweet, ‘fine’ before following Neteyam into his private quarters.  

Neteyam closes the heavy flap behind you and walk deeper into the room siting on his bed and left you standing next to his desk that he bolted a mirror above. “So back to business? I know you’ve been killing people, that doesn’t sound like you at all” Neteyam’s tone of voice was amusement, if he knew all the horrible things he did, why did he not stop you? Why isn’t he mad? “I don’t know what you’re talking about” your tone is soft like most times you speak to people. “Oh, cut the shit angel, you don’t have to lie anymore. I know all about your little side hobbies” you make eye contact with him now, “And what side hobbies are those?” you grit your teeth slightly. “Well, first of all, I know very well that you like me, but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around just how much. I thought about confessing I liked you but then I caught a glimpse of your twisted little mind and thought I knew how much you liked me but I was so wrong so I decided to wait to see how far you’d take it. I must say angel I commend the dedication.” his words run through your head as you take in everything he says. 

“What glimpse?” you blurted out. Neteyam chuckled and sat back on his bed leaning on the wall. “Sura, I saw you stab her in the neck, I heard you spew those sweet words about how I’m yours, about how she just signed her own death sentence and I saw you stab yourself in the thigh before you screamed out for me, how do you think I got there so quick” your blood ran cold, he saw all that, you thought you were careful. “I- I” he laughed again, “I should have felt angry, scared, you killed my girlfriend but instead I was so fascinated by the way you killed her in cold blood like that, and all for me?” he raised a non-existing eyebrow at you with a sexy smirk on his face.  

“Now tell me baby? You love me that much? You poisoned yourself just for me to stop seeing a girl? You know she got the death sentence for what you did. Do you even feel a little bad? You know if that secret gets out the clan is gonna have your sweet pretty head on a stick” Neteyam got off the bed and walked towards you slowly making you match his pace stepping back until you hit the wall next to his desk. 

Your loincloth was slick, when he rested his huge arm over your head on the wall and dipped his head down closer to yours. His body came closer with a few small steps pressing you more onto the wall behind you. His hair created a curtain hiding you both from the world as he brought his lips closer to yours, “I did it all for you Neteyam, wanted you to love me and other women kept getting in my way, I just wanted to be with you, I don’t feel bad. You aren’t gonna tell on me, right?” your voice was a seductive whisper as you tip toed to bring your lips closer to his. 

You felt his breath on your tongue when he whispered back to you, “Of course not, you’re my girl, always been my sweet girl” before he kissed you for the first time. His lips were warm and wet, and he tasted so sweet like the fruits he had eaten earlier. The hand that wasn’t above your head ran over your waist and hips gripping and pulling your bottom half closer to his body. 

Your hands came up around his neck bending your body upwards on his. Neteyam is much taller than you, by a foot at least, your height ends right around his chest. You whimper into the kiss pulling away for air and look up at him, Neteyam didn’t wait another second after you inhaled and kissed you again, the hand that was on the wall ran down the length of your body squeezing the flesh that was under his fingers. Neteyam held you by both your hips and lifted your body off the floor, you wrapped your legs around his think waist and he seated you on the desk next to him. Your ass touched the cold wood and made your hiss in his mouth before he detached and kissed down your neck. 

Neteyam sucked and kiss down your neck listening to you moan and whimper under his tongue, he pulled away untying your top and tossing it over your shoulder letting your pretty tits bounce freely. He didn’t waste a second kissing down your breast, tugging your nipples with his tongue and one of his hands. Neteyam pulls away and squishes them together looking down at your pretty purple nipples, “Such pretty tits baby, you were hiding these from me all this time?” he went back down to sucking on your nipples. 

“I wasn’t hiding Tey I-I didn’t know if you wanted to see them” your voice was breathy as you spoke taking in the feeling of Neteyam pinching and biting your nipples. “So sensitive” he mumbled into your skin. He didn’t waste much more time before he pulled you off the table catching you when you stumble a bit when you touch the ground. He turned you around and you saw your reflection in his mirror. Your messy hair, naked chest, swollen lips from his intense the kiss was. Then his hand, his big hand rubbing over your nipples and up to your neck choking you slightly. He tilted your head up and he bent down meeting you in the middle for another smearing kiss.  

His body pushed yours up to the desk rocking it slightly as his other hand ran down to your ass squeezing the flesh. He rutted his harden bulge into your ass making you whimper into his kiss. He pulled away untying your loincloth while he keeps eye contact with you, “tey...I have a secret” you said looking up at him, he hummed in response asking you to tell him, “I-I’m still a virgin, wanted you to be the one to take it.”  

Neteyam let out a hearty groan dropping his head on your shoulder as he played with your tail making your face heat up. “Fuck baby- really? for me? You never let anyone in this little cunt?” his voice was strained as he spoke to me. Neteyam always knew you were an innocent girl, even after he found out about your murderous love for him, he had no idea you’ve never lost your virginity to anyone. Of course, you just keep surprising him, killing someone you have experience but you can’t take cock...yet.  

The thought made neteyam excited he felt his dick twitch thinking about what a tight little cunt you must have, you never let anyone in there before it was unmarked territory. He couldn’t wait to tear you open with his big cock, like a kid on his birthday. His grip on your body tightens when you shook your head ‘no’ and he throw your loincloth to the side somewhere forgotten. Neteyam didn’t wait another moment before he dropped to his knees resting both hands on your ass cheeks. Your hands were not placed in front you holding yourself up on the table as you looked back, down at him massaging the fat. He spread your cheeks open catching a glimpse of your wet cunt, he let go and did it again multiple times. 

His chest rumbled from the sight alone, he couldn’t believe he got you so worked you, and to find out you were a virgin he just knew you were touch starved, knowing it was only from his touch made his cock hurt in his loincloth. He watched the slick shine between your folds, he thinks it’s so pretty, your cute cunt shining for him, all slicked up he just wants to taste you. And that’s exactly what he did.  

Neteyam spread your cheeks apart wider and shoved his face in sticking his tongue out and gliding it up your folds collecting the slick in his mouth. He groans vibrating your ass, and you roll your eyes back feeling his tongue flick you clit. “Fuck angel, taste so good for me, smell so fucking good too”  

It caught you off guard when slotted his nose in there but you weren’t complaining, he was going at it. He sucked on your clit flickering it up and down, side to side, he was pushing all your bottoms so perfectly. You heard from other women getting your pussy ate felt good but you had no idea it would have felt like that. “Ah ah Neteyam!” you moan out. 

His tongue slides up to your ass wetting your other tight hold making you clench. He noted the way your body reacted too it but decided he would play with that little whole another day. “Yeah, baby feel good?” his mouth went straight back down to your slit licking and swallowing down your slick, Neteyam was drinking it, fuck the thought sent you wild, you shut your eyes imagining how sexy he must look down there pleasuring you, how fucking good it must be to see his Adam's apple bob when he swallows your juices.  

It made you a little shy but your moans and whimpers over power your feeling of shyness, his tongue feels so good, makes you wonder where he learned to do that. Neteyam sucked harshly on your clit sending you cuming on his tongue and he slurped up every bit of it, he didn’t want any to go to waste but you gushed so much on him, your juices overflowed his mouth running down the length of his neck to his broad chest... 

When the overstimulation kicked in, he pulled away and raised himself to his feet and press up against your back. “Neteyam that was so good” you slumped against him with a weary smile on your face. He chuckled and picked you up bridal style and put you down on the bed gently and untied his own loincloth now letting it join yours on the floor, he walked up to your face stroking his cock right above your nose. Your eyes crossed as you watch his insane size in front of your face as he slowly strokes it. Glowing pre-cum dripped from his tip falling on your lip. Your eyes rolled back when you dart your tongue out and tasted it, he was so sweet. You heard women say their male companions were salty but not Neteyam. He really was perfect for you. 

You stuck your tongue out of your mouth waiting for him to stick his cock in but he smiles and taps his tip on your tongue. Feeling his heavy tip hit your tongue drove you insane, when he slapped your tongue the last time your mouth caught him sucking on the tip.  

You pulled away to change your position so you’d be more comfortable, flipping over onto your stomach on your hands and knees, sticking your ass up in the air and swaying your tail as you turn your head to the side and take him in. “Fuck -fuck baby- suck on it- yea like that” he threw his head back hissing at the feeling of your small mouth around him.  

He talked you through your first time amazingly, praising you, “look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, wanna take a little more?” he pushing in deeper watching your cheeks full out with his cock stuffing you full, “Doing so good babygirl, so good” Neteyam groaned and hissed feeling your tongue circle his tip before he pulls out completely. “Not cuming in there babygirl”  

He turned you effortlessly for you to lay on your back, legs thrown around his slim waist and he crawls on the bed over you, “Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asks you. “Neteyam I've wanted this for years, fuck me...please” you look up at him seductively again making him question how he took so long to mount you. He smiles and leans down for a kiss as he rubs his tip between your folds. 

When he starts pushing in you break the kiss with a sharp gasp but his lips don’t move from yours, he stays right there while he slides his huge head into you. Your eyes screwed shut and your fingers dig into the skin of his muscular back. “Tey- too big...” you whimper out looking at him with glassy eyes, “Taking me so good baby just a little bit more” your tail comes to wrap around his thigh, your legs feel weak and the rest on his back, his tail comes up and wraps around both your ankles as to keep you close. He sings reassurance to you telling you how good you're doing and how amazing you feel clenching around his cock until he’s fully inserted into your snug cunt.  

His head drops down onto your shoulder as he tries not to cum yet and your breathing picks up at the feeling, you have never been so full before. “Nete-” you stutter his name wiggling your hips slights as the pain subsides wanting him to move. When he starts thrusting shallowly, you mewl out scraping down his back. Neteyam brings his head back up to your and kiss you, you don’t kiss back too caught up in the feeling of your pussy stretching out. 

He bites your bottom lip pulling it and when you clench on his cock he moans like a chain reaction, Neteyam raises his body to look down at his cock disappearing into your small hole and reappear, he finds nothing more interesting than watching the way you take him in so flawlessly. “Tey, faster please, fuck me faster, so good” he looks up at you when you plead and watch you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch his cock fuck into you as well. 

You bite your lip when he speeds up his thrust making you tits bounce, it garbs his attention almost immediately and he quickly gets caught up in making them bounce for him. He speeds up his thrust more becoming a bit rougher with you but not enough to hurt you. Neteyam holds back almost everything he has so he won’t hurt you, he wants nothing more than to pound into you and suck on your tits until he’s drawing milk and making you scream.  

The thought sends his mind spiraling, he can’t wait to see you breastfeeding your children, his children. To see you get round and swollen pregnant with his babies. When he knocks you up, he’ll have to bend over your pregnant form just to kiss you when he slots his cock inside, or when he dips his head down to flick your swollen nipples in his mouth tasting the sweet milk that dips out on his tongue. He wants it so bad, he wants to knock you up, make you forever his. 

“Baby I’m gonna cum- cum with me, lemme knock up this sweet cunt. You wanna have my babies, right? Gonna let me give you my babies?” he rambles out of his mind rutting int your tight cunt, “Yes yes please tey! Wanna cum! Want your babies pleaseee!” you cry out for him gushing in his cock. Neteyam is quick to follow pumping his cum deep inside you, he thrust a couple times before he drops his heavy body on top of yours. 

After a few minutes he fixes himself on the pillow dragging you along so he doesn’t have to pull out of you, as early as this relationship was, he wants his seed to take. When you rest your head on his pillow you inhale deeply taking in his scent and bringing yourself closer to his chest. “Hey baby” he grabs your attention making you hum. “Was Akira your doing too? Like what happened there?” he asked softly as he strokes your hair. You mind runs back to the memory and you decide to be honest, “Pushed her off the high cliff into that one rocky river” you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. “You have to stop killing people now you know” 

“Neteyam if people staying in their lane they wouldn’t have been hurt, or framed, or killed. It’s there out fault when they step in my way.” Neteyam chuckles even though you just admitted to half if the crimes in the clan, you did it for him. Why would be complain. 

✨ I hope you all enjoyed reading! As usually any feedback is amazing! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!

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[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 2)

I have a terrible case of the big bad sads so enjoy part 2 earlier than I planned

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 2 Liar

You not-stalk Alastor for weeks but don’t find anything blackmail worthy to grab ahold of. But luckily (?) for you, a chance encounter pulls you deeper into his hobbies and therefore his scope of fascination. Most importantly, do murderers go on dates?

「Warnings/Promises: Smut, HumanAlastor x FemBurlesquerReader, Alastor eats pussy like beignets (MESSY), dancing, shoe stress, murder, dead body, food metaphors, stalking, masturbation, Tommy is a bad dude, allusion to coerced prostitution, praise kink?, public sex acts, stage name is a fucking pun GOTCHU BITCHES, Gluttony」

minors dni please

The nights you didn’t work were spent casually looking for Alastor. Not stalking, just …. pursuing. 

You found over the course of several weeks what places he never attended, and a few that he did like clockwork. As much as you wanted to approach him, you knew you’d end up checkmated again. You just wanted to observe the man, surely you’d see something you could use against him, something tangible.

What was he doing? Knife carrying smooth talker who fingers ladies in the park? There was more to him than you anticipated. That addictive adrenaline rush was calling you to chase him. You’d catch him in the act of whatever men like him did, and—- well, you’d figure it out then. Was he a mugger, maybe? The knife would make sense. But he disposed of bodies so well, a month and no mention of a corpse anywhere. You didn’t want to even touch the thought bubbling up in the back of your skull. It was getting louder and louder, heavier than the other thoughts.

A repeat killer.

You decided, somewhat foolishly, if he was a killer it would be best to know that information. So you needed to continue even if the cards all read death. Right? 

Right.

For all his efforts, he hadn’t actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.

Many nights you found yourself alone in wooded areas. Well, “alone”. 

During your casual stalking you found him to be quite pretty, in a sense. He walked smoothly, always had pressed and tailored suits. Slender fingers, wide shoulders, small waist. Fingers.

Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His “Shhh.” You couldn’t replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.

If all else failed, no juicy blackmail available, maybe just endear yourself to him. Bed him. Get the conquest done and let him go on with his little crime spree or whatever it was he was doing when you weren’t watching. Because so far all you’ve seen is a man who loves to dance and enjoys whiskey. 

After another show done, body sore, you did your tour of the theatre. Tommy was snapping his fingers at you from the bar, his attempt to tell you to come over. Every day he seemed to become more and more brutish.

“What can I do for ya?” You tried to keep a bounce in your step, arches aching. 

“I want you to meet someone.” Tommy turned to a small man at the bar, hair thinning and combed forward. You guessed in his sixties. “Give Mr. Wilson a warm welcome. He’s one of your most generous benefactors.”

You nodded, smile slipping as you mind started to consider what was happening. You had heard some girls were taking dates, offering private shows, but you had been under the impression that was entirely of their own free will and desire. Had Tommy turned pimp? Your gaze flashed to Tommy, his stare cold, and then back to the man. “Well, thank you very much doll! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.” Tommy saw someone walk by and followed, leaving you with the older man. 

“Your dance was something else, sweetheart.” You nodded, his hand coming to rest on your hip. “I bet those hips do more than dancing.”

Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, “Touch me again without my permission,” you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, “And the next time you see this tacky tie, you’ll be shitting it out.” You patted his chest. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

You pushed through the crowd and out of the front doors of the theatre. The air chillier tonight than past weeks. Looking around, you balled your fists. You wanted to hit something, break something.

Without any destination you tore off down the street, angrily huffing to yourself. You looked both ways to cross the intersection when you saw a familiar silhouette. A car honked, your hands coming up in apology as you finished crossing the street to follow Alastor.

Was your luck miraculous? Or malignant? You made it several blocks before a man stepped in front of you. You weren’t listening, trying to look past him to see where Smiles was headed.

“Will you fuck off?!” You pushed him out the way only to have him pull you back by the arm. Before you could let out your frustration, a stranger walked up to you both. 

“Hands off, move along.” The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. “Miss you need to be careful out here. There’s been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home.” 

Your mouth formed various shapes, no words fitting.

“Detective Brady.” He handed you a card.

I don’t want this.

“Sure, thanks.” You snatched it with two fingers and practically jogged away. No sign of him, no indication where Alastor went. Were there any forested areas? He often took strolls in shady parks but you couldn’t remember any nearby. Turning around you realized how far you’d wandered from the fanfare and lights. The area was dark and deserted, not just Alastor but no one was around anymore. You stashed the card in your bra and rushed past an alley, giving up and deciding to just go home, when your ears caught the sound of dragging fabric on pavement.

Ice. Your blood chilled. Taking a few steps backwards, you turned to look into the darkened side street. You saw nothing, but heard a familiar wet sound.

Would it matter? Death?

You lifted your heels, walking on the balls of your feet to not make any sound as you approached the black shadow blanketing the majority of the side street.

A glimpse of brown leather shoes peeked into the light, soon your eyes adjusted as you too entered the inky darkness.

“I don’t care for liars.” Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.

“Is there a problem?” His eyes scanned your face, his usual smile no longer so inviting but instead manic and wide. You don’t know what possessed you, the adrenaline was flowing again and drowning out your more sensible thoughts. 

Your eyes were locked on his golden brown stare, “Only… if you’re quite attached to his wallet.”

He burst into laughter, wiping tears with the back of his bloodied glove. A small smear of blood was left behind on his cheek.

“I have no need for it.” He reached down and fished it out of the man’s pocket, “And neither does he!”

You caught it with both hands, “Well doesn’t that make me the lucky lady of the evening.”

“Don’t speak too soon. I’m quite cross with you.” He gestured at you with the knife, “We had a deal.”

In what could best be described as an out of body experience you watched yourself rush to his side and lift the man’s legs, “In the trunk?”

Alastor stared at you, teeth showing as his smile grew, “I’ve seen films less entertaining than you.” A stifled laugh as he lifted the man from under his arms and you both carried him to the car. You dropped the legs with a loud thud, Alastor gently setting the man down and opening the trunk.

A waxed canvas was lining the inside, “Clever.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open. 

After he tossed the man, the knife, and the gloves into the back, you reached for his hand. “Your wife is going to be miffed. Blood is so difficult to get out of cotton.” You scratched at the bit of blood that had stained his cuff. “Spit works really well. But lemon juice and baking soda before any store bought cleaners will help.”

Alastor took his hand back, adjusting his sleeve to hide the red spot, “Oh she has much bigger issues to deal with.”

Your mind raced. A chauvinist? Abuser? A weight settled into your stomach; disappointment. “Is that so?”

Giggling, he leaned against the bumper, one leg crossing in front of the other, “Considering she doesn’t exist, she’s quite terrible at laundry. And I haven’t eaten a meal in years.” A giggle devolving into a full chest laugh. 

A terrible joke, you smacked his chest, “Cruel! Unfunny!” 

“Perhaps I should eat you?” He leaned close. 

“I hear I’m quite sweet.” You smirked, heart pounding in your chest with such force you were rocking slightly with each pulse.

Alastor felt his blood pressure rising. He should kill you. Just to be safe. But—- oh, this was so fun. You hid any fear you were feeling perfectly. He could be forgiven to think he was staring into a mirror. If he met himself in an alley, well, he would feel quite safe. Perhaps you we’re of a similar inclination?

He watched your throat as you gulped. You licked your thumb and wiped at his cheek, “You always make a mess, hun.”

Alastor felt the world spin as you then dragged your blood stained thumb over your lips, red lipstick smearing with it. “Sweet eno-,” he swallowed your words, hand coming to your neck and pulling you into the kiss. No patience, his tongue swiped over your mouth and plunged in at the smallest parting. 

Your mind was screaming, finally, yes. 

His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the man’s blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt you’d call them.

No time. He pulled away, “Against the wall.”

You practically threw yourself into the bricks. Alastor pulled a gas tin from the trunk and began dousing the street. You frowned, body relaxing.

“You’re taking the food metaphor too far. Fire? Really?” You took a second to realize there was no odor.

A laugh in threes, “Water, dear.” You watched the blood thin and begin snaking down to the gutter. He set the can in the trunk and closed the hatch. After opening the drivers door he turned to you, “Do you trust me to drive you home?”

“Honestly, no.”

“That’s why I like you,” a wink. “Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow.” He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he  hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.

Alastor found himself singing a little louder as he drove home. A thrilling evening becoming somehow more exciting. He realized that always seemed to happen when you stumbled into his plans. Still annoyed you had followed him, his thoughts shifted to possibilities. A kindred spirit could make things easier. More fun. Safer. But who were you? Much like himself you wore a mask. He could see it clearly as it always began to slip in his presence. 

He pulled his car behind his home, backed up against a large greenhouse. Still in the idling vehicle, his fingers came to his lips. What a peculiar creature you were. Killing the lights and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he considered what to do. The possibilities kept coming in waves. But he stopped himself, never one to live in fantasy. Helping toss a dead man into a car wasn’t the same as killing. Yes, you showed no outward concerns, but he couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn tail the second things got more intense. 

He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didn’t afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car you’d not be disappointed in him now. 

A deeper sigh. But you didn’t. Which was wise. He thought better of you for it. Opening his eyes and leaving the car, he went to the trunk to begin his work.

You couldn’t sleep. Not because of the dead man, you were getting used to that. It was the lack of information. Comfortable shoes? For what? He didn’t give you a time or place to meet.

Tomorrow was Sunday, you realized. Ah, the bar. That was the only place that would make sense. 

Sundays were big nights for your theatre, but you weren’t needed unless a girl was sick. You simply weren’t at that level of fame for your little company and this was fine for you suddenly. You spent your Sunday pacing your small one room apartment and changing shoes.

What did Alastor have planned? With the little you knew about him it a could be a capital crime or a walk in the park. You genuinely couldn’t imagine and it was exciting. A normal man asking you—- was this a date? Was it presumptive to call it a date? You couldn’t quite see Alastor dating. You let the question go. Most men would take you for a movie and perhaps a chaste kiss at the door of a cab. With Alastor it could be literally anything. How do you dress for anything? 

Your friend teased you, arriving early to her bar and chewing on your lip. 

“So, either you suddenly wanna look nice for my dive, or you’re expecting someone.” She was wiping down the counter.

“I adore your customers, Betty.” You hopped from the seat, needing to reapply your lipstick.

Your singing voice was strained, nerves keeping you tense. Looking into the modest crowd you couldn’t find him. A cornflower yellow dress, a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t let that stop you. The collar a loose and folding slit from shoulder to shoulder, you were positively cute, he decided. Leaning at the bar he couldn’t see your face, but under the small lights you were glowing nonetheless. A little ball of pride rose in his gut, noticing you clearly had put more care into your appearance tonight than most Sundays. 

Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.

When your set was done, you tried to be gracious as you left the piano’s side. Alastor watched you from his seat, letting your face light up once again when you recognized him. He gave a noticeable look to your shoes. 

“Those will do.” 

“Do what?” 

“You,” he leaned against the bar, “owe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance.”

Maybe a date, you thought. You offered him your arm, “Lead the way.”

As you walked, arm in arm, you found yourself not needing to speak much. His arm was so solid in yours. You felt like everyone was looking, the handsome man and the pretty young thing. Did you two look sweet? Like the cleanest cut kids in the neighborhood? Did you look like the kind of people who sat in pews once a week and clasped hands over dinner?

Did you look like the sort to toss bodies in cars? No, decidedly not. And it made you feel powerful. What a perfect act. The feeling of looking nothing like what you were was akin to the addicting rush of your cat and mouse game with most men. 

“Do you like those group dances? Like the Big Apple?” Alastor asked as he opened the doors for you. 

“Not particularly…”

“Perfect, neither do I.” He laughed. 

A small table in a small nook of a booth lining the small dance floor. You clinked your glasses together, no toast necessary, and watched the couples swing around the room. As the 20’s were fading from the rear view, you all hoped dance would be less stigmatized. But part of the fun was how scandalous it was. 

“How was your day? Made it home safe and sound?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned into the plush booth seat. 

Oh, this was going to be… normal? You choked a little on your drink, surprised. “Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I sat in my apartment changing my shoes repeatedly.”

Alastor’s laugh was loud and sharp, but you didn’t find it obnoxious. You liked it.

“That wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to risk you being unable to dance.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip with your gaze on the dancers, “Ya know how to avoid that? Tell me to wear shoes for dancing.”

A snicker, “Perhaps I’m not quite as skilled with talking to women as I like to think.”

“Then talk to me like a man.” Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastor’s eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.

“Hmm, I don’t talk much to men.” He thought, “Not for long conversations, that is.” Your mind conjured up the two dead men. “I never asked your name. Is it too late now?”

“You saw it on the posters. Autumn.”

Alastor smirked, “Autumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name.”

Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, “It’s a good one though, you have to admit.” His brow cocked, not understanding. “Hind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?” Your own brows rose suggestively. 

Alastor hit the table, “A deer pun?! Oh darling, we’re going to be fast friends.” He offered you his glass for another wordless toast.

“I thought it was pretty funny, for a burlesque dancer no less. A horny little deer prancing on stage. Better than Allie Way and Frosti Winters.” You grinned into the glass, proud of yourself.

You could see Alastor physically relax beside you, dancers moving about in front of you both. 

“And yours? Your day, that is.”

He hummed, “I slept late, stayed up late. Took care of our newly penniless friend.” 

You wanted to ask more, what did you do with him? Can I come next time? Is there a pool of gators somewhere eating well today?

He leaned in to you, “May I have this dance?”

Your smile was uncontained, all desire to control your outward appearance was lost in the fun of dancing with your newest partner. Was there anyone else in the room with you anymore? Who knows. The music kept playing and that was all you needed. 

Alastor was a marvelous dancer,  you noticed other women glancing his way, eye lashes fluttering but ignored as he focused on the movements. This was how you managed to not-stalk him so well, he was completely unaware of the interested gazes of those around him.

While he didn’t notice the individual stares, Alastor could feel the attention on him and it made his chest puff. He loved it, how he could feed an image to the masses and be seen as he saw fit. It was something you both had in common, even if neither of you had strong enough egos to vocalize it yet.

When the music wound down, a slow number for the lovers, you hadn’t expected Alastor to stay on the dance floor. A slow dance, one arm on your hip, hand in hand. 

Now close, you felt you could speak without risk of others eavesdropping. 

“Why did you invite me out? I have a distinct memory of you saying you had very little affection or time.” You were shorter than him, your shoes not very tall, so you had to speak up and at his neck.

“A man who says he has no time is a man unwilling to make any.” Alastor led you in a small sway along the floor.

“Oh so you just didn’t see me worth the effort before.” You said it half teasingly, half seriously.

He looked down now, eyes meeting yours again, “That was before I knew how entertaining you could be.”

You pouted, entertaining was not the word you wanted to hear. Enthralling, Enchanting, Endearing. 

“There’s that face again. What ever could it mean.” Alastor’s head cocked to the side.

“I’m entertaining at work. You don’t need to take me out to enjoy my entertainment value.” 

He laughed again, making you glare, “Darling, being entertaining is high praise. And you’re not entertaining at work. You’re bewitching.” He pulled you a little closer, “The way you make those men act a fool. Truly a sight. You wield a power many women just dabble in.”

You shimmied a little against his chest, “Well if we’re giving out compliments…” you remembered the satisfying hum from last night, “The canvas was clever, but the water in the cans was brilliant. Nothing suspicious about a little petrol in the trunk.”

His grin widened. “And your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable.” The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, “I can appreciate the way you carry yourself.” Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, “I wish I could see more.”

Your chest pressed against his, trapping your hand. “Ooh, you are observant, little one. Why did you agree to come out? Still chasing my,” his hips pressed against yours, hand sliding down slightly to hold you close, “affection?”

Fingers playing with his buttons, “Hmm, debilitating fascination and your affection. Do you have any to spare?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

Your mouths were on each other before the bathroom door closed behind you. Alastor locking it without looking, one hand staying on your neck. The small room was just a single toilet and a bathroom cabinet with a built in sink. Little tulip shaped light sconces above the mirror made the room brighter than the dance hall. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, him humming in return. His body was pressing yours against the wall, despite his thin frame he had a power to him. Hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your hips tried to roll against his anyway.

“Is it praise? I’ll sing your song until I’m blue in the face, until my lungs give out just tell me what you need.” You whined. 

His head shook softly, thumb pulling down on your chin to open your mouth. “It isn’t that simple. It’s not something you can say.” 

His tongue swiped over your own, neither in your mouths. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and fragrant. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his body against yours. You were vibrating; the way you always did when he was near you.

Kissing, tongues, body presses.  You were tangled together.

“This isn't… doing anything?” You asked, his lips coming to your neck. Sighing, your hand gripped his hair weakly. “That feels good.”

He shook his head into your skin, “I don’t see any desire to carry it further. But I enjoy it for what it is. And you seem to enjoy it. Is that enough for you?”

You wanted to scream, to argue, but as he pulled away and you stared up into his sharp honey brown eyes, you felt helpless to deny him anything. Did you need sex? Really? It’d been three months now without it and you were only recently clawing at the sheets with thoughts of Alastor. Being in his mouth was better than being strangers. Sliding fingers back into his hair and drawing him closer, your leg came up and hooked on his hip.

Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastor’s eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “I’m happy to do many things for you… just not exactly what you’re asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom.” 

His hand snaked up your chest and lightly held your neck, you fought back a moan.

“Well, if it’s good enough for your wife….” 

He laughed into your skin, other hand slipping down the front of your dress and cupping your crotch. “I’ve heard no complaints.” The way he anchored you, arms twisted and firm around such vital parts of you, made your whole body relax into his arms. A parachute safely secured around you as you fell. Mouth to your ear, hot and warm breath, “Turn around.”

Head spinning, you turned in his arms. Alastor lifted you up and onto the countertop of the sink, lips crashing back into yours.

The sound of music shook the thin walls of the room, heart erratic in your chest. His fingers slid up both thighs slowly, a familiar feeling for you now. His hands your favorite dance partner. 

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he dropped to his knees, your legs closing in embarrassment before he slid his hands between them. 

“Did you ask for more affection, dear?” He pushed your dress up around your waist, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side. You wanted to rip them off, damning your garters. You felt feverish as you watched him bury his face into your pussy. Your wetness was evident by how easily he glided through your folds. One hand gripped the counter, the other combing through his chestnut hair. Alastor kept his eyes on you, reading your face as he moved his tongue over your heat.

Mind racing for something clever to say, you opened your mouth but just gasped out his name as he sucked gently at your clit. One of your short heeled shoes you stressed over fell off as your knees came up around his head.

You were confident you made the right answer. With the music thumping along you didn’t feel any need to keep yourself quiet.

Your breathy moans and little hip rolls into his mouth made Alastor smile against your skin. He had learned many ways to keep people satiated. 

With a struggle, you opened your legs again allowing his tongue to drop down and into you. Nose rutting against your sensitive clit with every movement of his tongue in and out. 

A pounding on the door made you jump. 

“People are waiting!” Someone yelled.

Alastor pushed his tongue deeper, wriggling up and down against your twitching walls. Your head fell forward, “Alastor-,” you choked.

He buried his nose into your muff, eyes closing.

The door knob rattled, “Hello!”

“Alastor.”

So warm. Your body was so warm on his face. Your smell was making him feel feral. Gluttony. The way you were twitching and heaving under his tongue, groaning his name. Had he ever felt so powerful while on his knees? Had he ever enjoyed someone else’s body in such a bloodless way? No. Decidedly not.

“We’re gonna get the key!” The man at the door said.

“Okay, okay, affection received.” You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. “Don’t need to end the night in a paddy wagon.”

Alastor’s tongue was still out, eyes glossy as he looked up at you.

For the briefest second you considered wrapping your thighs back around his head and waiting for the key.

You hopped off, grabbing your shoe and leaning to get it back on. Crouching down you kissed Alastor’s nose and wiped his chin clean with your handkerchief before pushing it into his shirt pocket. “Up, up!” Hand in hand you barreled out of the door before the staff could see you and rushed to the furthest corner of the hall.

When you stopped and looked back you saw a staff member looking around annoyed, a man putting his hands up and entering the bathroom with a huff.

Before you could say anything, compliment or scolding, a woman was in front of Alastor. Your hand slid from his naturally. 

“I am so sorry. Are you the host of that jazz show?” The woman had her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the handle of her purse, “Sorry if you’re not! You just look like the description, tall… handsome… cute glasses.”

You turned around, partly acting like you didn’t know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didn’t want to create hassle for either of you.  Alastor laughed, “The very same! Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your back turned you couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she made a barely audible squeak. 

While you were eavesdropping, a man offered you his arm. Your hand slipped to Alastor’s back, giving him a touch as you slid into the strangers arms for a dance.

He turned around to see you hit the floor and smiled, returning to the fan before him. After a few more compliments about his voice and his appearance, the woman shrunk a little, “Are you free tonight? I don’t have an escort home…”

A hum, soft smile, “Ah, I would love to see a fan safely home. But, alas, I am here with someone.”

What an easy excuse. It was nice to not need to lie.

“I see…. Oh, uh, your glasses… here, they’re a little smudged,” she offered him her handkerchief but he declined, pulling yours from his pocket.

“Danced too hard?” She chuckled, trying to elongate the conversation.

Alastor hummed, fogging the glasses before wiping them clear. “Eating, actually.”

“Oh you’re a messy eater, huh?”

“So I’ve been told.” He folded the square into a triangle and returned it to his pocket.

“What a… delicate handkerchief.” She looked at the soft yellow fabric and saw your yellow dress twirling behind him. “Ah. Well….It was a pleasure to meet you.” The woman sheepishly excused herself, letting him watch you dance around the floor with the stranger.

He’d never so explicitly told anyone his proclivities as he had done with you. Growing up he learned quickly his interests misaligned with other young men, but he didn’t really understand it well enough until he entered his early 20s and had to learn skills his peers didn’t. A man can only turn down so many offers for sex before people begin to question him. Certain rumors could be downright dangerous. 

Your eyes kept returning to him, your smile meeting you eyes as you twirled. 

While he had bed a number of partners, it was more often than not the result of physical reactions and what felt like necessity. The few times he genuinely felt he could enjoy in indulging in carnal pleasures he found himself utterly alone. He enjoyed dating, necking, kissing, but he could only keep some people so happy for so long. Quite a few women assumed marriage would solve the issue, and pushed him. Which made the inevitable break up easier. 

His reputation was that of a rake now. The popular host who rarely dates but often canoodles.

He laughed to himself, if rumors spread of his recent antics with you he’d be practically blacklisted from certain clubs. Alastor watched you graciously leave your dance partner and hop up to him. If he were any other man, you’d throw your arms around him and make him swoon for you. But he was Alastor. Your confusingly respectful killer. So you stopped yourself, instead offering him a smile.

“I wasn’t aware you were a radio host.”

“You never did ask my job.” You both walked back to the table where his jacket was lying in the booth seat.

“Honestly did not care. Which is unusual for me. Normally my first question to men is what they do for work.” You tried to avoid looking at the bathroom before settling back into your seat beside him.

He lifted his hand and gestured for another round, “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“Oh definitely flattered. There were much more interesting aspects to you.” There was a little space between you, a foot or so of emptiness. 

You scooted closer, Alastor glancing to you before shifting his legs and closing the last few inches of distance. Thigh touching thigh, you sat silently while your drinks were poured and brought to your table. 

“To sinning,” you offered a real toast, Alastor laughing his signature laugh and raising his glass.

“To sinning!”

His hand came to rest on yours, both settled on your lap under the table. Your cheeks were hurting, desperately trying to keep your smile looking demure and not stupid-school-girl-in-love. His fingers folded into yours, and you entirely lost the plot, face melting into a lovesick grin.

Alastor leaned into you, “Are you alright? Liquor already gone to your head?”

You squeezed his hand, “Different kind of intoxication, doll.”

The evening was, in a word, divine. You danced with reckless abandon and enjoyed various degrees of affection. You were surprised to see Alastor so open, you had pegged him as less wanting to draw attention to himself. But no, he clearly relished in making heads turn.

He offered you a ride, and this time you took it. You didn’t live far, you just wanted a little more time. When he stopped the car, you jokingly turned around and looked into the trunk. 

“We’re very alone.” You mused. He hummed an agreement, getting out of the car and opening your door.  “Wow and a gentleman.”

“A testament to my mother. If you’re comfortable, give me a wave from the window when you get in.” He closed your door behind you. 

“I don’t mind if you know where I live, you’ll have easier opportunities to kill me, I’m sure of it.” Placing two hands on his chest, you leaned up, “Is a good night kiss too forward?”

Alastor stifled a laugh, “Quite! My image of you is shattered.” before leaning down to meet your lips.

When in the apartment you turned on a light and went straight to the window. Leaning against his car with both hands in his pockets, Alastor was smiling up at you. With a wave from you, he got back into his car and left.

To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. Clouds couldn’t carry the weight of your joy. You’d fall to the ground like lead, regardless of the cloud classification. And with that feeling you went to bed smiling, unaware of the dark catalyst barreling towards you.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

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ADIF @multifandomfanatic02 ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[roamingleaf]

"Park Bench"

TW: Public Park, G@ngbang, R@pe, Creampie, age difference, Cnc

You filthy, needy, degenerate little whore. So many different posts, some flashing your perky, Hershey kissed nipples. Others showcasing the sloping curves of booty hiding behind a host of different panties. What a brazen call you put out into the depraved, horny void for men twice your age to tell you how they'd use your curving, hypnotic, canvas like it was nothing more than a Fuckdoll. Could you imagine what would happen when all of these hungry lions cornered you?

It would have been another dimly lit evening thanks to the watchful, chilly eye of the moon being shrouded by the swaying, swooping clouds passing before it. Daintily you would have been strolling along those emptied streets in the thinnest clothes your closet had to offer. Despite the darkness of the night being clutching, your glowing physique beautifully stood out. Why? In hopes of finding a place to pack your camera with provocative pictures of that perky, petite, portrait you call a body. Thankfully your adventure into the violet nightfall would not last too long before a perfect oaken tree stood out to you in the middle of a park.

With hurried breath you headed towards it, unaware of the silver Acura that had been following such a scampering, alluring canvas for a few blocks. Once your scurrying ways had landed you not in front of the tree, but instead, on top of a park bench on your knees your personal photoshoot had started.

Snap, snap, snap.

Went the subtle cold stare of your familiar phone camera all while that silver Acura calmly, as if stalking its prey circled to the back of the park.

There in that empty lot did four, brutish, burly men leave that car with only one intention in mind. As those shadowy monsters crept their way closer towards their prize, you would be foolishly drunk off the thoughts of attention these photos would reap for you. Before that familiar snap could be heard one more time you would feel it.

The sudden grasp of multiple hands clambering for a feel of that summer rain soft skin of yours. This rather bold move done in the middle of such a public place was one to send your head into a spiral. Though, sadly, much bigger things would swiftly start to feel those thoughts in your head. You could feel it, five? Six? Who could tell how many hands in that shadowy park had been helping weigh you down. All that could be told for certain was the long, thick, meaty shaft of one of these strange men had pushed past your pastel lips to invade your soft, dripping mouth.

The fighting spirit that would normally circulate through that tenacious frame was all but drained as you felt your skin, tight shorts being torn from your roaming, luscious hills you call hips. This couldn't be happening, one invader reshaping your throat into a Fleshlight was plenty. How could someone else hope to plunder the silken, sticky, greedy halls of your sacred shrine? But, like the toy they intended to turn you into, they proceeded to do just that. Test the holds of your hungry little body.

Through muffled, breathless, moans you tried your hardest to push with whatever you could. But atlas, these men were too strong for such a fragile doll to fight back. That's when you could feel it, the first of many loads to paint that once uncovered canvas. The first man grunted as he freed himself from the tight coils of your throat to start the painting process.

As you grunted, and gasped for air you could feel the firm grasp of the man pounding into your starved pussy clamping to your hips. With this hold up a delicate work of art you could feel his matching rhythm of his thrust by colliding your hips back into his. Sadly however, this intoxicating daze would be sullied by the feel of your hair being pulled so your regal face would be eye to eye with another hard, shaft that meant to continue the training.

For what felt like an eternity they passed you around between their grimey grasp. Each of them leaving their own bruises, marks, and of course seed planted deeply inside your once fruitful garden. Only once your dainty frame meekly lay sprawled across that park bench leaking from every single hole, and painted properly like a priceless picture would those gentlemen's hunger be satisfied and off into the night would they return.

-🪶

[joequiinn]

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part ii | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Warnings & Notes | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

Author's Note | Thank you to everyone who has shown love for the fic thus far, this has been such a beast to work on, but I love every minute of it! I'm a little biased towards this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do 👀

WC | 12.5k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“... through no fault of your own…”

As planned, you ventured to the gardens post-supper, a book in hand to keep yourself preoccupied should Eddie be delayed. Your father seemed none the wiser to your plans, far as you could tell, unaware of your lilac dress in need of a cleaning, unaware of your evening rendezvous to come. As had become habit as you grew older, he visited the library for brandy and a cigar following your evening meal, and you went off to read either by the fire or on a bench amongst the rose bushes.

It was a comfortable existence, the one shared between the two of you, albeit also a lonely one. Your father was certainly capable of affection, but he was never good at showing it; for a man with a whirlwind of emotions constantly present in his eyes, he had the irritating habit of keeping them all to himself. He showed love and care from a distance, and you couldn’t begrudge him for that, although in your younger years it often left you wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with you.

For your entire life, it was always just the two of you and the half-dozen staff of the house - you never knew your mother, and your father was entirely disinterested in the prospect of ever taking another wife. In fact, it seemed as if sometimes he was fearful of the idea, as if there was some unseen danger in taking a new bride. He often seemed too preoccupied for such trivial things as romance, although what could possibly keep his mind so busy, you didn’t know even to this day; managing the estate and businesses was certainly a demanding task, but he’d always had staff and advisors to assist with such things. You figured that it was his emotions that wouldn’t allow him to commit his time to anything else, even something so simple as spending an evening by the fire with his daughter.

What he did make time for, frustratingly enough, was your recent engagement, made purely out of arrangement given your family’s position in society. You’d always known a convenient marriage was expected of you, despite the changing of society, but you’d also always hoped foolishly that you could put it off until you found a suitor on your own. But considering that you were already 24 years of age, the clock of expectation was ticking, and so your father had set up an engagement with a local family of similarly high standings.

The man was fine enough, from a decent family that wasn’t so stuffy that it made you want to rip your hair out. But he was terribly boring, completely and utterly incompatible with your wild ideas and your lust for life. It was evident that he didn’t quite see women as people - they were mothers or wives or daughters, they weren’t meant to have ambitions and aspirations. And as infuriating as that perspective was to you, you nonetheless thought you could at least tolerate such a man once you became his wife - after all, better he be boring than cruel, for boring could be ignored.

But with Edward Munson showing up after all these years away, suddenly you weren’t so confident in your tolerance for boring people.

You knew better than to become swept up in your childhood fantasies, you were logically aware of how silly you were to become excited at the mere prospect of Eddie as a concept. But you just couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t resist the ache you felt for your long-lost friend. Up until today, you admittedly hadn’t thought about him in a number of years; it’s not that he was ever truly forgotten, but you had accepted long ago that you two weren’t going to see each other ever again, and you had to become okay with that idea.

So, to have Eddie turn up entirely unannounced after all this time was a shock to your system, like the sensation of jumping into a freezing lake on a hot day; you were suddenly submerged in the thought of him, having dived in head first like a fearless child.

Now that you had Eddie back, you missed him so deeply, mourned the possibilities of what life would have been like had he stayed in Hawkins with you. And yes, you certainly knew that you were getting caught up in your excitement of finally having him home, but you also weren’t going to deny yourself the joys of his company. After all, it wouldn’t be long now until you were someone else’s wife - you may as well delight in your freedoms while you still have them, especially if those delights were in Eddie’s hands.

And so, you eagerly awaited his company, the sun low enough now that you could no longer read your book from where you sat. You could have moved closer to the house where light shined out through the windows, but you hadn’t been particularly interested in the novel to begin with; all while you’d been staring at the pages, your mind had been elsewhere.

So, you set the book aside and looked about, growing nervous as you anticipated Eddie’s arrival; you suspected that he was waiting until the sun had disappeared entirely beyond the horizon, nervous of being caught alone with you now that you both were all grown up. Since childhood, he’d feared the wrath of your father, especially after the day you two were found in the abandoned chapel - that was a terrifying and altering experience for you as well, so you certainly couldn’t blame Eddie for his reservations.

After that day, your father had never looked upon the boy in quite the same way, had never trusted you with him like he used to. He’d still let the two of you play together, but you weren’t to go beyond his sight, forced to keep to the gardens or the front lawn so that someone may always keep a watchful eye. And then only a short few years after that, Eddie was gone, and although he never said as much, you knew your father was relieved for it.

Something that had stirred your childish fears at the time was how that day at the chapel seemed to coincide with a spike of animal attacks in the area; you began to associate the two events in your mind, foolish as that may have been. The howling of a wolf at night would enter your dreams and turn them to nightmares, where you were trapped in the confines of the chapel and cornered by a monster. For weeks, this wolf seemed on rampage, attacking livestock and even going so far as to harm a few town citizens. But somehow, the animal was never caught.

Eventually, the danger faded away, eventually the attacks stopped and the cries of the animal no longer haunted you. But to your eight year old brain, it seemed the wolf was angered by your trespassing in the chapel, it seemed that you and Eddie had provoked it into such extreme violence; since then, you’d always secretly harbored a fear of wolves.

So, much like your irrational, childish fear of wolves, your father’s anxieties seemed utterly illogical to you. They’d led to disagreements and fights throughout the years, and to this day you never quite understand why he held such resentment towards your childhood friend.

Footsteps upon the stone path caught your attention and drew you out of your reverie; eagerly you jumped to your feet, heart fluttering in your chest with impatience. Although it was perhaps dumb, you ducked into the shadow of the nearest tree, your giddiness prompting you to behave so childishly, as if to make up for the times you two had lost. You listened and waited, hearing the careful steps come closer and closer until they were finally upon you.

Eddie hadn’t spotted you, pausing to pick up your book from the nearby bench, looking left and right in search of you; you held in a laugh as he continued forward, straining his neck as if that may help him find you faster. You ever so carefully tiptoed up behind him, mindful of the way your shoes would click against the path; you had one hand cupped over your mouth to maintain your silence, and once Eddie was finally within reach, you lashed out, quickly pressing your fingers into his sides to startle him.

“Eddie!” You whisper-shouted at the same moment, causing him to jump and exclaim with a harsh hiss, dropping the book he’d just picked up. He whipped around quickly to give you a reprimanding look as you laughed, pressing both hands to your mouth so that you wouldn’t be too loud. The startled furrow of Eddie’s brows made your laughter more raucous, and you doubled over, finding the whole thing far more amusing than it actually was.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile with an annoyed twist to his mouth, setting one hand atop your shoulder as he pressed an insistent finger to his lips, “Shh, I don’t want to be caught.”

You looked up at him through your lashes as you began to calm yourself, although giggles still escaped you as you feigned an innocent look. You gave his chest a comforting pat, your wide grin nearly comical.

“We won’t be caught.” You said with the utmost confidence, holding his eyes to make it clear just how certain of that you were. Eddie shook his head at your antics, but didn’t argue, his eyes sparkling with happiness in the moonlight. He picked up the fallen book, dusting it off carefully before holding it out towards you.

“Yours, I presume?” You smiled graciously, taking the book back and holding it close to your chest. For a long beat, the two of you simply drank each other in, silently admiring one another as if you were both works of art. Eddie cleared his throat, while looking down at his feet, meeting your eyes with a little more care, “Shall we?”

You nodded with a sweet smile, the expression only growing more dazzling when Eddie offered his arm for you; hooking your hand in the crook of his elbow, you gave him a surprised look, “When did you learn to behave like a gentleman?”

Eddie laughed with a dip of his head, the two of you aimlessly walking down the garden path, “Sometime between when I last saw you and now.”

You rolled your eyes at the answer, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. With no smart response, you suddenly found yourself growing nervous, although you weren’t sure why; perhaps you feared having nothing to say? Maybe you worried the silence meant this little fantasy would fall apart already? You bit your lip while glancing up at Eddie’s handsome face, wondering if similar fears weighed heavy on his brain.

“Did you miss me?” You blurted out, drawing his attention back.

“Well, you’re not very polite, are you?” Eddie teased with a snarky grin, which made your ears feel warm. You two were heading in the direction of the hedge maze, as if you both knew that’s where the other wanted to go. Sighing deeply, Eddie looked away from you, “Of course I did, especially that first year. There weren’t many friends to be had when every week we were in a new town… I thought about you often.”

He peeked at you bashfully, your warm smile making him nervous, “And after that first year?”

“I had to let you go.” Eddie shook his head as if the thought of it still upset him, still filled him with regret, “Couldn’t spend every day and night worrying over the girl I left behind.”

The sad way he said it made you smile with longing, recalling the wretched few months following his departure and how difficult that time was for you, “I missed you as well; for a while, life was so dreadful without your company.”

Approaching the maze, you considered all the things that had happened the past thirteen years, wondering how you could possibly catch Eddie up on all the things you wanted to share. You wanted to tell him about the time you dipped your toes into the pond only for a leech to grab hold of you; the time you’d meandered into the garden feeling so lonely that his uncle put a trowel in your hand and taught you how to properly dig up dead plants. Or perhaps of your studies of botany, a passion that always kept you company on quiet days.

A depleting thought crossed your mind then, and you stole a glance up at Eddie’s face in consideration - before things went on any further, before you hurt him or led him on, it was only right to mention your annoying little engagement. Feeling the burn of your eyes, Eddie paused and looked at you curiously, knowing your expressions so well that he knew something was irritating you quite suddenly.

“What, don’t tell me my company already bores you.” He teased with that playful grin, to which you couldn’t help but smile back at.

No, you didn’t want to ruin the moment when it had only just begun. So, you shook your head and gave his arm a light tug, continuing the walk into the hedge maze, “No, you could never bore me, Eddie.”

The two of you entered the cozy maze that you’d memorized together so many years ago; you had spent hours trying to find markers and hints as to which direction to go, running back and forth from the start to the end until the both of you could confidently make it through without any help from the other. You wondered if Eddie could still remember his way through the hedges just as well as you.

He guided you around the first familiar turn, and you smiled to yourself - he could remember that much, at least, even if it was muscle memory. As if he knew what you were thinking, Eddie paused and shot you a mischievous look.

“Did you think I forgot?” He leaned in towards you with a challenging gleam in his eyes; you nodded smally, “We spent countless days playing here together - my mind wouldn’t let me forget this maze even if I wanted to. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dreamt of it.”

Rising to the bait, you puffed up your chest a little, removing your hand from his arm, “Oh really? Well, in that case, shall we see who can complete it faster?”

Eddie laughed, his eyes spirited and daring, happy to engage in play, “And what is there to win for the one of us that proves victorious?”

Your heart skipped as if the question were provocative; you took a step closer to Eddie, nearly chest to chest as you gazed up through your lashes, whispering with an airy suggestiveness, “Perhaps that’s for the winner to decide.”

“You speak with such confidence - I hope it isn’t going to your head.”

“And you speak with such determination - I’d hate to see you lose.”

The air was tense as you smiled at one another like scheming children, Eddie eventually took a step back while crossing his arms, tongue wetting his lower lip. You rose your chin defiantly, brow arching as you awaited his response. Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, Miss Talbot.” He uncrossed his arms to reach into his coat and extract a pocket watch, “Let’s see if you’re up for the challenge. I’ll wait for you at the end of the maze and see just how quickly you can manage it.”

You looked between him and the simple silver watch, “And how will you know when to start the time?”

“Do you remember your bird calls?” The both of you nearly laughed at the question.

“I’m rusty, but I can manage. How do you know I won’t cheat the call, send out my whistle when I’m already halfway through?”

Eddie leaned down with a false threat, eyes piercing into yours as he whispered in a risque tone, “I’m trusting you.”

His voice made you shiver with excitement, but you tried to hide it, just as you tried to hide the way you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself, “Foolish.”

“No one’s accused me of being a fool before.” He pretended that he was offended, taking a flamboyant step away from you. You grinned like a cheshire cat, delighting in your banter.

“Then I’m pleased to be the first.” You teased, causing Eddie to narrow his eyes once more.

“Have you grown more troublesome since I left?”

“Oh, yes, I assure you that I have. Now, let’s start the race, Mr. Munson.” You two shared a playful look of disagreement before Eddie began to jog around the hedge maze, following its exterior walls towards the other side.

You waited impatiently until you heard the chickadee call that the two of you used to practice as kids, the sound making you laugh to yourself. Licking your lips while recalling how to properly make the familiar sound, you called back and began a mad dash through the hedge maze, scooping your skirts up into your hands so as not to trip in your hurry. You took the turns tightly, nearly stumbling over your shoes and loose rocks; the dark of the night made the depths of the maze harder to decipher, but your muscle memory kept you in line, determined to win this childish little race you were now in the midst of.

When you’d finally reached the end, you very nearly crashed into Eddie, who managed to catch you as you both stumbled a few feet. You breathed deeply while trying to catch your breath, your wild eyes meeting Eddie’s as you steadied yourself with your hands upon his chest. Eddie smiling widely back down at you.

“I forgot to check the time.” Your face dropped, balking at Eddie in disbelief. But only moments later, he broke out into impish laughter, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze as you heaved a sigh of relief and slapped his chest.

“Not funny!” You scolded, although all conviction was lost considering that you were laughing along with him.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie held up the pocket watch, announcing your time to you as he placed it in your hand. With a charming grin, Eddie began the walk back around the maze, leaving you to wait for his bird call once more; you kept the clock face turned up to the sky so that the moon kept it illuminated.

Once the chickadee call met your ears, you kept your eyes trained on the watch, giddy to see if Eddie may possibly beat your time. The seconds seemed to move oh-so slowly since he wasn’t within your sight, and for a long while not even the sound of his footfall met your ears. But then you could hear the scuffing of shoes against stone and you began to grow nervous, worried that he would win this race with no real stakes.

Your time came and went, and a victorious grin spread across your face; moments later, Eddie came bursting out of the maze, stumbling much like you had as he skidded to a halt. You moved to him quickly, the self-satisfied look on your face causing him to narrow his eyes as he steady himself with hands upon knees.

“Don’t tell me you won.” He teased, your grin growing even wider as you took a dramatic, victorious bow, waving your hand graciously towards an invisible audience.

“Disappointment does not become you.” You taunted, to which Eddie rolled his eyes. He took back his pocket watch as if your hand burnt his, melodramatically acting up his dismay with groans and huffs, all the while you giggled at his silly display.

“Well, champion,” He leaned back into your space again, eyes alight with roguery, a wolfish grin on his lips, “what do you demand for your winnings?”

A wicked thought came to you, feeling your cheeks warm and your heart drum frantically, even as you tried to keep a cocky look upon your face. Eddie’s playful eyes were beginning to make you nervous, but you hoped your expression appeared just as spirited as his own, biting your lip to mask your nerves. You tapped your finger to your chin contemplatively, humming as if in deep consideration as you looked about the expanse of the lawns and gardens, anything to keep your eyes turned away from the dark of his gaze.

“I’m undecided.” You stated instead of your true answer, not quite courageous enough to share it. Abruptly, you began to jog down the hill’s slope which led to the lower lawns, full of that same nervous and excitable energy you always had as a child when Eddie was around. It felt a little foolish to act as if you were back to being little ones again, but you simply couldn’t help yourself, needing to let out all the giddy sensations that Eddie had stirred back up in you.

Eddie followed behind you with a call to slow down, catching up quickly and grabbing your arm; he spun you around to face him, his eccentric smile a perfect match for yours.

“We shouldn’t wander so far in the dark.” He insisted as he still held to your arm, looking back up in the direction of the mansion; from here, the hill obscured much of it from view, leaving only the upper floor visible to you.

“The dark holds no dangers to me.” You responded with a rascally tone, as if somehow you were untouchable. To reassure him, you added, “We will not go far.”

You took Eddie’s hand in your own as you continued your aimless trek - the lower lawns were home to less impressive gardens than those directly off the Talbot home, but as the explorer you were, they were always a delight to you. These were not gardens of flowers and exotic plants, but of fruits and vegetables, an orchard of trees with lovely offerings. Your personal favorites were the cherry trees, though they were not in season and, thus, they looked dull; but the apples, however, were truly thriving, growing so large and vibrant and aplenty, so you dragged your companion in that direction.

“Will you be helping with the gardens?” You asked, reaching out your free hand to graze the texture of leaves and apples and bark; the trees here had been growing so long that their branches were like a canopy above you.

“I will be doing anything asked of me - I’m lucky your father has even allowed me to return, given how much animosity he still seems to harbor for me.”

You furrowed your brows with disappointment; neither you nor your father brought Eddie up during supper, and so you had no idea what thoughts he now had about the young man, “You think he still harbors animosity?”

Eddie gave you a serious look, a sadness evident in his eyes even though you two wandered in near darkness; you were thankful for the moon, nearly full, for illuminating your way, “You weren’t there for the… odd conversations we had today; it seems he will never be trusting of me, nor will he ever come to like me.”

“Well, I like you, and that’s something he’ll simply have to live with.” Your tone was stubborn and defiantly and bratty, as if your own feelings could possibly sway those of your father; Eddie gave you a grateful look.

“Just don’t land me in trouble.” He said softly, knowing that even this simple act of walking together was something your father would frown upon, that it could be considered taboo for a woman of your status to be seen alone with a man like him.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, leaning in to him a little to rest your head atop his shoulder with an easy smile across your lips, “Fear not, I won’t cause any more trouble than I usually do.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your hand back, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, “You are quite capable of stirring up trouble, dove, that answer is not particularly reassuring.”

“I suppose not.” You said with a giggle, delighting in the impromptu term of endearment - Eddie had certainly never called you ‘dove’ before in your youth, but oh, how you hoped he’d continue to say now.

You recalled all the crazy things the two of you had done as children, the headaches you had caused; Eddie had been a troublemaker as well, of course, having dragged you along on many risky adventures that you’d been scolded for later. But now, he seemed far more aware of his station, far more aware of the consequences that awaited adults who broke the rules that children could get away with.

Yes - you reminded yourself once more - you were both grown up now, and could not get away with play and stories the way that you used to. You could no longer be seen together without raising eyebrows, you could no longer laugh and run and joke without propriety being questioned. It was a dismal realization to know that any and all interactions with Eddie would now be scrutinized, by both peers and staff and your father alike. The thought made you sigh with woe, eyes drooping as you considered all the things the two of you could no longer do lest you face the judgments of those around you.

Decidedly, you stopped and turned to face Eddie, who gazed down at you with curiosity. You confidently met his gaze, even as your heart drummed nervously, setting your face into a look of strong resolve; knowing that things were different now, you had to enjoy every single moment together that you could, “The winner has decided the prize she’d like to claim.”

Eddie’s brow rose, a tickled smile befalling his lips at your unexpected announcement, “Has she?”

You nodded, feeling yourself growing cold with anxiety even as your cheeks warmed with bashfulness. Taking a steady breath, you gently placed your hands on the front of his shoulders, watching his eyes glance down before meeting yours with some trepidation; you paused there for a moment to bolster yourself, unwilling to back down, a nervy smile gracing your lips as your eyes softened.

“I want you to kiss me, Edward Munson.”

You felt his gasp rather than hear it, felt the way his shoulders tensed at the softly spoken request; his expression became skittish, his eyes jumpy as they looked about your face for a lie. You held your ground, not shrinking under his gaze or backing down, even as your resolve began to feel shaky, nerves growing in rapid succession.

Your name was a sweet whisper falling off his lips, the sound making you shiver as the moment weighed on you. You stared at him with longing, fearful that he’d reject you, that he’d succumb to the pressures of a society that wouldn’t want you two to be together. But to your surprise, Eddie delicately cupped your cheeks, even as his eyes seemed apologetic and doubtful, looking between yours as if waiting for you to stop him before you did something neither of you could take back.

“I shouldn’t…” He spoke oh-so softly; you shook your head gently in defiance.

“I don’t care.” Your answer was equally small, as if even you feared being caught, “I may not be able to have you amongst society, but when we’re alone, you’ve always been mine.”

Eddie’s eyes dropped to your lips, staring with such longing that you practically melted right then and then. As if he could tell the thoughts running through your mind, the corner of his mouth turned up in that charming grin of his, a huff of a laugh escaping him. And that seemed to be all the catalyst he needed, because in the next breath Eddie dipped his head down to capture your lips carefully with his.

His kiss was so tender and chaste, his fingertips curving a little tighter against your jaw. As a sigh left you, all your nerves seemed to melt away with it, your body relaxing against Eddie’s as your hands trailed up to clasp at the back of his neck. Your lips were timid, as if still held back by the disbelief that Eddie was back after all this time, disbelief that he was here with you and you got to kiss him exactly as you wanted to on the day he left.

Eddie pressed closer to you, deepening the kiss as his hands trailing down your neck, your arms, to your waist; the feel of his gentle touch caused your whole body to spark and shiver, your fingers curling into the hair at the base of his skull as an unladylike sound of satisfaction hummed in your throat. You could feel the curve of his smile against your lips, the way his hands squeezed your waist as if spurred on by your moan, and it only made you want him more.

Assertively and a little clumsily, you pushed against Eddie, practically tripping over your feet as you urged him to back up into the nearest tree truck, the bark scratchy against his shoulder blades though he was far too preoccupied to notice.

Your lips were demanding against his, body flush to him as your confidence mounted, Eddie’s arms warm as they encircled you as if fearful of letting go. Your hands became feverish, tugging at his hair, gripping at his neck, holding tight to his shoulders; you wanted to be everywhere at once, to somehow make up for all the time lost in the span of a single kiss.

Eddie’s tongue was wet against your lower lip, a pleasureful gasp escaping you as you opened your mouth to him, grateful for his arms around you as you began to feel weak in the knees. A primal sound rumbled deep in his chest, a growl that made you tingle all over, that made your hands tighten against him. With his arms holding you tight, Eddie leaned into you in a way that forced your back to arch, practically dipping you in his eagerness. Your chest felt as if it were going to burst open, your heart drumming out an excited tattoo, your limbs tingling with electricity.

But then suddenly a howl cried out from the distance, loud enough and frightening enough to make you gasp while abruptly breaking the kiss with Eddie. You whipped your head out towards the wilderness, Eddie’s nose pressed to your cheek as he attempted to catch his breath. The cry of the animal rang out again, sounding closer and more provoked; your eyes widened as you gazed out towards the north, which seemed to be the direction of the danger.

“It’s alright…” Eddie whispered airily, his breath hot against your skin. His hand reached up to gently cup your cheek again, turning your startled gaze back to him; his eyes were dark and lustful as they stared deeply into yours.

“No…” Your voice was also light with breathlessness, chest rising and falling against his, “That was a wolf.”

Eddie made a face as if confused by your concern; you were reminded in that moment that he’d been away for such a long time.

“I was told there were no more wolves around here.” You started, straightening up although you kept yourself securely pressed against Eddie’s warm body. You spoke a mere inch away from his lips, each word a hot breath against his skin, “They’d been hunted to extinction, supposedly; at least that’s what father told me.”

Eddie smiled, his lips brushing against yours, “And you always listen to what your father says?”

You rolled your eyes, still wondering if you’d hear the wolf’s call again; despite the nervous beating of your heart, you ever so delicately kissed Eddie again, “You know I don’t… but we haven’t seen wolves in years… it seemed they disappeared after you left.”

Eddie’s slight laugh vibrated against your chest, the feel of it helping to settle your nerves, “So, it was I who drew them away from Hawkins?”

You grinned fondly at him, slowly beginning to feel at ease as you pressed your fingers tenderly against his skin, “Now that sounds just like one of your stories.”

“Perhaps it is true,” Eddie started with an eager tone, pulling back from you so that he could grab your hand and begin to drag you through the rows of orchard trees, as if he had a destination in mind that you weren’t privy to. You giggled smally while trying not to trip over your feet, “Perhaps they’ve been on the hunt all this time, and I’m the thing they seek. They followed me across the country, stalking closely, but I’m no easy prey to catch, and I always evaded their grasp.”

Coming to the edge of the orchard, Eddie melodramatically threw his free arm in the air, as if presenting the expanse of the dark woods and the beautiful, bright moon to you, “And so they continue to follow, all the way back home - but the wolves will never catch me!”

The last statement was shouted out into the wilderness as if Eddie were daring the creatures to come to him, and as you joyously laughed, you once again saw the boy who explored nature with you, the boy so fond of telling stories to his adoring audience of one.

But then a wolf’s howl sounded back, and the perfect timing froze you, a chill creeping up your spine as your wide eyes looked between Eddie and the vast woodland nearby. Even Eddie - so fearless just moments ago - looked spooked as he stared into the darkness of the trees, gaze unblinking as if a predator may present itself any moment now. His grasp on your hand squeezed tight as he protectively pulled you closer into his side, a shaky breath escaping him as he waited for the creature to call out again.

“We should go back.” You leaned into his neck so he could hear your whisper, feeling the way he slowly nodded in response. That last cry had been even closer than before, and it made you both edgy. The likelihood of a wolf attack was slim, and for all you knew the sound of its howls were simply echoing to seem near, but neither of you was stupid enough to risk it.

So, you both cautiously backed up a few feet before Eddie spun you around, quickly escorting you back through the orchard, up the sloping hill, into the garden that lined the entire backside of Talbot Manor. You didn’t stop until you were safely at the edge of the hedge maze, and then further still Eddie dragged you into the cozy confines of its tall bushes. After twisted a few paces into the maze, Eddie finally stopped, looking down at you as if you were a porcelain doll he feared breaking.

In an effort to reassure you both that all was well, Eddie cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing lightly along the apples of your cheeks; you stared at each other for a long minute, relaxing now that you were seemingly away from danger. The shine of the moonlight in Eddie’s eyes made you smile contently, and as if he saw as much, he leaned in to capture your lips with his once more.

Eddie kissed you with such ardent tenderness that you feared your knees may buckle beneath you; you lightly hooked your hands on his elbows to keep steady. How could this be so easy, this spark between you two that reignited in no time at all? Was it simply nostalgia that drew you like a moth to a flame? You so desperately hoped it was more than that, that the two of you weren’t just getting caught up in the excitement of Eddie’s return.

You slowly pulled your lips from his, pressing your foreheads together as you buzzed from head to toe. The silence between you two was calm, like a kind of enchantment that you couldn’t help getting swept up in.

But as your breaths mingled, a nagging voice sounded in the back of your head, your conscience reminding you that you were an engaged woman running around with a simple mechanic. Your brow furrowed, wishing you could just send the thought away without a concern, but you knew to be better than that.

You pulled a little further from Eddie so that you could meet his eyes, your expression anxious and somber; it took him a few moments to notice, his own look going from lively to worried as he studied your face.

“What is it, dove?” He asked, thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks again. You pressed your lips firmly together while swallowing, fighting off your nerves; you knew what needed to be done, even if you didn’t want to be the one to do it.

“Eddie…” You cupped his hands in yours before gently pulling them away, taking a tense step back that caused doubt to flash across his face. You shook your head at yourself with a sigh, “There is something I should’ve told you.”

Oh, how tempted you were to run deeper into the hedge maze, to hide instead of confront the truth and break Eddie’s heart in the process. Your tongue felt heavy now that you had to say those damned words, and as you kept your eyes locked on Eddie, you could see his trepidation, as if he already suspected what you were about to say.

So, you bit the bullet before your nerves could win out again, “I’m engaged.”

You could see the exact moment his eyes dulled and his heart became heavy, feeling instant regret beginning to stir in you. If only you hadn’t said it, if only you could simply whisk that statement away - anything to bring a smile back to his lovely face.

As Eddie’s gaze dropped from you, you took a step back towards him, although you had to keep yourself from gently grabbing him, knowing your comfort most certainly wasn’t wanted right now. Nonetheless, more words spilled out of you, as if that could make things better.

“If I had known you were coming back, I would’ve found a way to prevent this. God, Eddie, if I could’ve just predicted you’d return, I wouldn’t have let this happen.”

Eddie sighed deeply, his jaw flexing; you couldn’t tell what he was feeling, as the look on his face was one you’d never quite seen before. Was it anger or pain or sadness or confusion?

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, unable to look away now that you’ve hurt him.

Eddie bit his lip, keeping his eyes on the ground as if he were still processing this information, his head shaking slightly at all the thoughts that must have been going through his mind. Unexpectedly, he whispered back with hoarseness, “I’m sorry, too, dove.”

Your brow furrowed as Eddie met your eyes again, his gaze appearing black in the darkness, which made him nearly frightening. What did he have to apologize for, he wasn’t the one who hurt you, after all.

The corner of his mouth pulled up, although there wasn’t any amusement to the expression, “I shouldn’t have come tonight - I gave us both too much hope.”

“But you are not the one who kept a secret.” You replied apologetically, “You are not the one who demanded a kiss and then broke the other’s heart.”

Eddie stared at you for a long, tense beat, “You’re right. And yet, somehow, I feel as if I’ve landed you in trouble once again.”

Your lips parted, but you didn’t make a sound, looking between Eddie’s eyes as you still tried to figure out what was going on in his mind. A weak, distressed laugh left you, a sound of disappointment as you tried to center yourself.

“Were we simply getting caught up in all of this?” You vocalized the fear you’d held the entire night, the fear that maybe your guileless excitement might fade away and you two would be left with nothing but old memories. Eddie’s stare remained unreadable for what felt like an eternity, and you began to feel antsy beneath his dark eyes.

He took a cautious step towards you, your heart catching in your chest as you watched him carefully. Each step taken made you more nervous, and yet you stayed firmly planted where you stood. You felt static all throughout your body as you waited, a shaky breath passing your lips as Eddie came close and dipped his head down towards yours. For a moment, you thought perhaps he’d kiss you again in spite of it all, but instead his eyes locked with yours, gaze dark and heavy with a depth of emotion that you wished you could begin to understand.

“I hope that this is no folly.” Eddie whispered longingly before straightening up. He backed up from you, his expression growing tender as he drank you in, the confusing weight of all these feelings adding pressure on his mind; once he had put what he deemed a safe distance between you two, he smiled sadly, “Good night, Ms. Talbot.”

And just like that, he walked off, long legs carrying him so quickly that it was almost like a magic trick. You stared at the spot he once stood, sighing with sadness and longing; how you so hoped this wasn't the end of things for the two of you, as it felt they had only just begun.

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Eddie had managed to keep his distance for three days following that night, busying himself with tasks and chores that would ensure he didn’t have to run into you. Assisting Wayne in the gardens, cleaning up the mess of a garage, running into town with one of the maids to purchase goods - anything was better than having to see you and that forlorn, longing look in your eyes.

Eddie was foolish to have assumed that coming back to Talbot Manor would be easy, that he’d be able to fall back into his old routines as if nothing had changed. He’d become so very swept up in you so damn fast that he hadn’t even considered a boyfriend or fiance or husband could be a factor that would keep you apart; why that thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, he didn’t know. But he certainly should have known better than to cave to the excitement you both felt, and yet he had done so anyway.

It was easy enough to stay away from you, but what wasn’t so easy for Eddie was the temptation to watch you when you thought no one was looking. There’d been so many times over the course of these days when he’d spot you meandering the garden while he was out in the field or lazing about the porch while he was in the cottage cleaning up after a day of hard work. The first time it happened, Eddie assumed you saw him too, for how could you not notice him cleaning up scraps in the vegetable garden while you walked the orchard? But you always seemed to be lost in some reverie, and he would get lost in watching the beauty that was you.

After three days of managing this, Eddie thought he’d be okay, that he’d find enough distractions to help him abandon his childhood crush that he was foolish to hold on to in the first place. Doing so meant that he’d have no trouble with Sir Talbot, it meant that you could go into your future marriage without the burden of his feelings on your shoulders. Perhaps all would be well, and the two of you would carry on with your lives as if you’d never seen each other again to begin with.

On the eve of that third day, Eddie was lying in bed when a wolf’s howl caught his attention, the sound strangely enchanting to him. At first, he startled slightly, for the night had been silent up till that point; he waited patiently to see if perhaps the call had woken his uncle, if Wayne was perhaps stirring in the cottage’s single bedroom. But the older man was still snoring soundly, and so Eddie tried to roll over and sleep despite still feeling wide awake.

But the animal called out again, and it filled him with a sense of foreboding. Perhaps it was because he remembered your reaction to the wolf that first night, the confused fear that flashed across your eyes; you had said wolves were supposed to be extinct around here, after all. Eddie allowed his curiosity to win out his logic, rising from the cot and going towards the nearest window, wondering if perhaps he could somehow catch sight of the animal; he lingered and lingered there at the window, but as the minutes passed, nothing happened.

As Eddie turned his back, though, another howl rang out, this time sounding closer than any of the previous ones; it sent a chill up his spine, wide eyes looking out into the night and up at the bright full moon overhead. Why was it that wolves seemed drawn to the full moon, he found himself wondering as he, too, became briefly mesmerized by the beacon of light.

There was yet another cry from the creature - Eddie had grown far too curious why the wolf seemed so damned worked up tonight. Letting this get the better of him, he scooped up his trenchcoat, a lantern, and Wayne���s shotgun, slipping into a pair of shoes and carefully stepping out into the night. He paused on the front step, eyes carefully looking about just to make sure the wolf wasn’t possibly upon him; once he deemed it safe, Eddie began to walk out towards the gardens.

He wasn’t expecting to have any kind of confrontation with the animal, and yet he couldn’t help the compulsion to explore. As he swung a wide berth around Talbot Manor, Eddie glanced up at the windows, drawn to the lights still shining out of a couple of them - one being your room, although he tried to ignore that thought.

The wolf called to him again, Eddie’s eyes roaming across the expansive grounds with a furrowed brow; just like the first night, it seemed the animal was howling from the north, as if it were hiding deep in the woods out there. Why Eddie felt such an impulse to chase after the creature, he didn’t know - it was fruitless at best, and dangerous at worst. But he couldn’t resist this sudden fixation, couldn’t resist the pull of mystery.

So, Eddie wandered, mindful of his surroundings as he went, passing by the flower gardens and the vegetable gardens, down a walking path that led to the Talbot woodland; he paused at the edge of the trees, knowing that he’d be foolish to continue forward. He should turn around, he knew, go back to the safety of the cottage and ignore the lively cries of the wolf; the animal was almost certainly far enough away from the home not to pose any danger. But before going back, Eddie lingered at the edge of the wood, the darkness like a wide open mouth and the trees like sharp teeth.

Movement off to his left caused Eddie to start, inhaling sharply as his wide eyes looked about for a sign of something. He slowly turned in a careful circle, grip tightening on the shotgun in hand; he was comfortable enough with using it, having accompanied Wayne on hunts, but he didn’t want to shoot bullets out into the quiet night if he could avoid it.

A rustle in the underbrush, and Eddie looked back into the dark of the trees; for all he knew, it was just an innocent squirrel or even a deer, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating wildly in his chest. He took steady steps backwards towards the safety of the Talbot property, cautious of his surroundings, mindful of any peculiar sound. Leaves crunched under his feet, each crinkle spiking his nerves; if there were a wolf nearby, would it not have already shown itself, would it not have already lunged at him like the easy prey he’d made himself?

Eddie gasped, thinking he saw eyes somewhere in the shadows, bright and clear and far too level with his to be the height of a wolf. But just as quickly, that hint of light was gone, although the scare was enough to make his blood run cold. He froze for a few tense moments, swallowing as he waited to see if the supposed-eyes would reappear; his gut told him that there was something there within the woods, something that he shouldn’t turn his back on.

But when no strange sounds or sights made themselves known after a prolonged, strained minute, Eddie began to move again, taking long strides backwards. His eyes were unblinking as he continued to stare into the endless dark, hearing the anxious pumping of his blood flowing in the otherwise silence.

And then another cruel howl followed by a frightening snarl sounded from before him, causing Eddie to shout out in fear, tripping over his suddenly frantic feet and falling heavily onto the wet grass. He began to scramble backwards, wide-eyed stare searching the woods in a panic; he wasn’t certain why he felt it, but it seemed that the animal was mocking him, that it had waited for just the right moment to give him the scare of his life.

Pushing himself back to his feet with fraught stumbles, Eddie abandoned caution and ran up the hill as fast as humanly possible; he didn’t care if presenting his back would prompt the wolf to chase after him, he needed to put distance between him and the woods, between him and the dangerous animal. His arms pumped wildly, coattails flying behind him as the lantern swung heavily in his hand; he was almost certain he heard heavy footfall over his shoulder, but he didn’t dare look back.

Eddie practically crawled up the slope of the hill, pushing his legs even harder once he’d reached the upper gardens, daring to glance around as he ran madly past Talbot Manor. With the mansion looming tall and imposing, comforting in its own strange way, Eddie finally decided to shoot a frenzied look behind him - but when there was nothing there following him, he slowed so abruptly he nearly skidded to a fall, his expression bewildered.

Steadying himself, Eddie tried to catch his breath as his eyes darted around in every direction; there was no wolf, no monster, nothing except the creeping evening fog and the ever familiar gardens. Eddie made a strained sound of exhaustion and frustration, spinning in every direction just to make sure he was, in fact, safe and alone; a pathetic laugh escaped his throat as he threw his head back, feeling both relief and confusion in tandem.

He couldn’t have been imagining things, could he? There was most certainly something in the woods with gleaming eyes, there had to have been something chasing him simply to taunt him - he couldn’t possibly have been so confused that his mind made that up. His chest heaved, the air cold enough that he could see his breath, and suddenly Eddie felt another shiver of fear course through him. 

“Eddie!” A voice sharply hissed, causing him to startled and look about himself; with the manor off to his side, Eddie saw you sticking your head out the window, your confusion clear under the light of the full moon.

Your eyes were alight with concern as you gazed down upon the frantic man, the night air gently blowing your hair about your face. Eddie’s face was drawn with fright, eyes wide and terror-struck - it was an expression you hadn’t seen on him since childhood, since that day when you two snuck into the abandoned chapel. You looked at your family’s sprawling property, eyes trailing from the gardens to the woodlands out towards the direction of Hawkins; you saw nothing of alarm, but Eddie’s energy certainly had you spooked.

You returned your worried gaze to his face, trying not to raise your voice too much to draw attention, “What’s going on? I heard you shout.”

Eddie shook his head, still breathing heavily through his mouth as he stared up at you, “There’s something in the woods.”

“The wolf?” You asked, having also heard the creature’s cruel howls; you shivered, worried that perhaps the animal was growing bold, that it was going to start lurking around your home.

“I don’t know if it’s a wolf.” Eddie answered gravely, making your blood run cold. Your distressed gaze once again roamed around, hyper aware of anything that may seem out of place; but there was nothing to be seen aside from an owl flying above the trees.

“Eddie…” Your eyes softened as you stared down at your friend, “… Come up.”

He appeared taken aback by the request, looking at the vines and the trellis and the ornate architecture of Talbot Manor; back in the day, he’d learned how to climb up the side of the structure with ease, using the accents and the lattices as grips to bring him all the way to your window. But, of course, that was when he was a spry young boy; for all he knew, he wouldn’t be able to make that same climb now that he was a man. He gave a shake of his head.

“Either you come up or I come down.” You said firmly; you’d known he’d been avoiding you for three days, and considering the strange circumstances of this evening, you couldn’t do with any more time apart from him.

 Eddie considered your words, looking about himself once more before sighing heavily, carefully stashing his gun and lantern in the nearby bushes. You tried not to smile too eagerly as he carefully looked the wall up and down as if he were planning his climb. Once he started the trek up, you stepped back from your window to grab your robe, uselessly wrapping it around yourself before returning to the window and pushing things out of the way.

You could hear Eddie grunting with effort, and so you stuck your head back out for a moment, nearly surprised at how quickly he was making the climb; you grinned a little at the expression he gave you, a boyish vexed delight.

Eddie tugged himself up and into the room, huffing as he found his footing; you closed the window behind him, leaning your rear against the sill as you contently looked him up and down. Eddie turned to face you, the low light of the room accentuating the planes of his face; you crossed your arms as you carefully looked him over.

“Are you alright?” You asked quietly, eying the mud on shoes, the grass on his coat.

Eddie nodded, “More spooked than anything…”

You bit your lip nervously, pushing off the windowsill and taking careful steps towards him, “You said… you don’t know if it was a wolf?”

An unamused laugh escaped Eddie, who rolled his eyes at himself, “I know that that must sound crazy of me.”

You quickly shook your head, gently setting your hand on his arm, “No, you were scared, that doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

Eddie eyed your hand, the way your fingers carefully squeezed the fabric of his coat. He seemed to deflate a little, dropping his head, “It seemed too big… but if not a wolf, I haven’t a clue what it could be.”

You stepped even closer, placing your other hand on his arm as well, your brow furrowed attentively, “It couldn’t have been a bear, could it?”

Eddie shook his head again, eyes seeming a little glazed over as he recalled the last ten minutes, as he tried to find details in his memory that he may have missed the first time, “Didn’t sound like a bear. But maybe I’m just confused.”

He exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his shoulders thanks to the comfort of your presence; for the time being, any conflict between you two was forgotten.

Seeing how confused and tired Eddie seemed, you guided your hands up his arms and to his cheeks, your touch gentle and caring as you two stared at one another, “Maybe you are, but we both know you weren’t imagining things - I heard it, too.”

Eddie looked between your eyes in consideration, searching your expression as your thumbs began to rub comforting circles on his jaw. He leaned into the touch a little, breathing steadily in and out as more of his anxious energy began to melt away. Eddie’s eyes became hooded the longer he stared at you, and at the same moment you were both reminded of the fact that you hadn’t seen each other in days, that you hadn’t spoken since his first night back, that being alone together in your private room was a far more intimate thing than either of you should have allowed.

You dipped your head a little, voice quiet, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Eddie countered in a similarly small tone, dejection weighing on his shoulders. He was nervous to touch you despite that being the only thing he wanted, nervous to let his guard down again and continue this taboo that you two had begun.

“The engagement wasn’t something I ever wanted,” You continued to whisper, drawing yourself close enough to Eddie so that you were nearly chest-to-chest, “I would’ve happily become an old maid awaiting your return if I had thought it possible, but father wanted to make sure I was cared for should anything happen, and people began to talk about my age as if I was already too old, and--”

Eddie abruptly wrapped his arms around your middle, his lips crashing down on yours like waves upon a shore, a surprised little sound leaping out of you as you tensed up. But just as quickly, you melted into him, kissing Eddie back as if his taste was intoxicating, clinging to his warm body as if fearful of losing him again. His hands upon you were wild and desperate as they squeezed and pressed you close, his mouth hot and wicked as he kissed you as if you were a lifeline.

Your arms snaked around his neck as you kissed him back fervently, your heel lifting off the ground as you moaned into Eddie’s lips. His grip on your body was rousing, his hands feeling every inch of you that he could, memorizing you with his fingertips. It felt an impossible task to break away from him, but you did so abruptly, realizing for a moment that you forgot how to breathe due to the severity of the kiss.

Your noses brushed as you gasped for air, Eddie’s lips close enough that you could still feel them teasing against yours. His eyelashes tickled your skin, prompting you to pull back just far enough to meet his lustful gaze.

“I can’t stop myself around you,” He admitted breathlessly, chest heaving in time with yours, “I have to stay away lest we both end up in trouble.”

“I don’t want you to stay away,” You whispered against his lips, fingers affectionately playing with the hair at the base of his skull, “You were away from me long enough. I don’t care if we’re just being foolish, or if we’re hung up on the past; you’re back, Eddie, and I’m not going to let you go again.”

“Dove…” He muttered the nickname as if it were sacred, “When the time comes that this must come to an end, you better push me away.”

You shook your head smally, firmly grabbing his cheeks again as you stared into his dark eyes, “I’m too selfish for that.”

Eddie chased your lips, capturing them in another chaste kiss, “Then we’re both fools just asking for trouble.”

“So be it.” You kissed him back assertively, longingly, with all that pent-up desire you’d been holding onto for so many years. Eddie breathed desperately, tongue snaking its way into your mouth with an eager groan. You felt like you were on fire as you pressed up against him, relishing in the feel of his body reacting in time with yours, his hands groping feverishly, his hips flush against your own.

Blindly, Eddie tried to guide you in the direction of something, anything that he could prop your body against so he could lavish you; you smiled into the intense kiss as you two tripped over your own feet, your rear finally bumping into your vanity and making everything on top fall over or roll off. You broke the kiss briefly to giggle at it, Eddie’s eyes alight with amusement as he shushed you.

“Be careful.” You whispered with another small laugh, kissing him wistfully as he helped scoop you up so you could sit upon the vanity tabletop. Pressing himself between your legs, Eddie’s hands delighted in the feel of you, pushing your thin robe from your shoulders, fingertips grazing over your bare arms. You shuddered at his touch, back arching, which only urged Eddie to continue to explore you, hands ever so gently drawing an invisible line from your breasts down to your thighs.

He began to tug at the material of your nightdress, fighting with the fabric just so he could expose more of your skin; as your ankles, your calves, your knees became exposed to the air, another chill ran through you. Eddie’s hand ran down the length of your calf, fingers hot and the metal of his rings even hotter, each touch sending you into a frenzy. Pushing the skirt up over your knees, his fingers squeezed your thighs with greed, goosebumps breaking out across your sensitive skin.

Eddie pulled away from your lips to meet your gaze again, eyes hooded and dark as they burned into yours. You salaciously smiled at the lustful look on his face, wanting so desperately to drag his lips back to yours, barely able to contain the hunger you felt for him. His hands continued to squeeze your legs, and when he pressed his hips against yours, you whined at the feel of his erection at your hot center, the layers of clothing between you nearly offensive. The needy sound in your throat made Eddie throb between your legs, and impulsively you rolled your hips against him, watching his eyes practically cross with pleasure.

An eager, breathy laugh left your mouth, prompting Eddie to plant another firm kiss to your lips. You haphazardly shoved at his coat, so he pulled back and quickly dropped it to the floor behind him, hands going right back to your body as if he couldn’t stand being away from you. Instead of returning to your lips, Eddie trailed kisses along your neck, from under your jawline all the way down to your collarbone, inhaling your scent with an animal excitement. Your fingers twisted in his hair, head thrown back as you delighted in the feel of his hot mouth against your skin.

Eddie’s hands returned to your thighs, an annoyed grumble sounding in his throat as the fabric of your drawers kept him from enjoying the feel of your sweet skin. Again, you couldn’t help but laugh airily, delighting in his desperation to touch you, to which Eddie gave you a hungry glare. With a huff, he pushed your skirt out of the way, fingers trailing along to the upper trim of your drawers, assertively tugging them down your legs in one quick move.

A shock of electricity jumped through your nearly exposed body, panting as Eddie tossed the garment aside and returned to you, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you zealously. You impatiently felt along every inch of his body, relishing in the flex of his muscles beneath your hands, the way he tensed as you dipped your fingers into the hem of his trousers; his erection twitched against your thigh, making you feel hot all over as you moaned.

Eddie drew his face away from you, to which you chased after his lips as if you were starved; he smiled tenderly as he held you back for just a moment, meeting your amorous eyes and searching them. Without having to say the words, his look was a question, seeking the assurance that this is what you wanted; you bit your lip with a small nod, practically throwing yourself at Eddie in your wanton desire to touch and be touched.

As you planted sloppy kisses along his lips and jaw, Eddie fumbled with his pants, knuckles brushing your inner thigh which sent a tingling jolt up your spine. He grabbed your legs, fingers squeezing hungrily into your skin as he tugged you closer to the end of the vanity, causing more items to clatter off as you gasped at being pulled.

Eddie gave you a wicked grin before kissing you deeply, savoring the sensual taste of you. He maneuvered, hips snug between your legs as his cock grazed your inner thigh, so, so close to your entrance that it made you keen; he grabbed himself, knuckles brushing along your folds and sending another chill through you. You moaned into his mouth, lips more insistent against his as you steadied yourself with one hand propped behind you and the other securely holding Eddie’s shoulder.

He broke away from the kiss again so he could look you in the eyes, his gaze sultry and tantalizing as he positioned his tip to press up against you, drawing another lewd, impatient mewl from your mouth. As Eddie eased slowly into your heat, the noise that left your lips was utterly sinful, forcing him to cup a hand over your mouth, his commanding expression utterly provocative as you clenched around him. He held in a groan of his own, the sound rumbling low in his chest once he was hilt deep inside you, the size of him making your eyes roll back with ecstasy, your mouth hanging open in bliss.

Eddie stayed perfectly still for just a moment to compose himself, the sight and feel of you was so damn overwhelming that it made him feel like a virgin all over again. And, god, the way you looked back at him with your body wound tight like that was so erotic, he had to be careful not to wake the whole damn house.

Hand still gently pressed against your lips, Eddie began to roll his hips slowly, pulling nearly all the way out of you just so that he could sink sweetly right back in again and again and again. The desirous sounds of your rapture humming behind his hand was intoxicating, spurring him to move a little bit faster, to push a little bit deeper.

Your hand on his shoulder fisted the fabric of his nightshirt, your other desperately grabbing the corner of the vanity for purchase as you sank lower on his cock. His slow, deliberate thrusts made your eyes cross, your moans becoming more urgent with each push of his hips against yours. Eddie was utterly alluring to watch, lips parted as he moaned, sweat breaking out across his forehead as he tried to be oh-so careful of his thrusts.

Desperate to feel him deeper, you rolled your hips in time with his, causing you both to cry out as Eddie hit just the right spot. The change of angle made him tense abruptly, pulling his hand from your jaw so he could brace himself against the vanity; his eyes burned into you, as if challenging you to move like that again. 

With a haughty look on your face, you did just that, rutting your hips experimentally against Eddie’s, toes curling at the pressure created on your clit. The sight of his brow knotting with pleasure bolstered you, urging you to move faster and deeper, pathetic sounds falling past your parted lips as you threw your head back.

Eddie’s hands grabbed desperately at your hips and thighs, fingers digging so harshly into your skin that it nearly hurt; he began to move his body greedily against yours, his cock somehow burying even deeper into you. He rested his forehead against your cheek, his hips jerking up into yours with more force as inconsolable whines sounded in your throat. He spread your legs wider, pushing your knees up higher, each shift and rut driving you wild as you already began to come undone.

Sweat was beginning to make your skin slick, your ass sliding down the vanity as Eddie’s thrusts became more urgent and feverish. Satisfied groans leapt out of him as he held your body steady, strong hands gripping tight to your hips as you arched up into him. As Eddie shifted one of your legs up even higher, you had to bite your own hand to refrain from shouting out with pleasure, his deep angle making your legs shake and clench around him.

The back of your head bumped the vanity mirror, and you realized then just how much noise the piece of furniture was making, the wood groaning under your weight, bumping against the wall. Were you of sound mind, you would have stopped Eddie, but you were too far gone, gasping and mewling with delight as his cock pumped in and out of your slick heat.

Eddie’s hand reached down between the two of you, fingers wickedly circling your clit as he continued to rut deep inside you, a string of satiated sobs passing between your lips. Your thighs clamped tightly around his hips, eyes rolled into the back of your head as your movements became jerky and desperate, the sensations sparking through your entire being impossible to contain.

You grasped wildly at Eddie’s back, nails digging into his skin, body quivering uncontrollably; he was unrelenting, dexterous fingers eagerly rubbing your clit, cock pumping quickly in and out of you. As your body began to feel like static electricity, his own thrusts became more frenzied, his grunts and moans in your ear growing more feral.

“E-Eddie, I--!” Your mouth moved of its own accord, your attempt at words unintelligible as his hips slapped against your ass, your entire body clamping around him as your climax rapidly overcame you. The fervid whimpering moans falling from your lips were utterly blasphemous, the sound of your satisfaction making it nearly impossible for Eddie to keep it together. His hands held tight to your waist and hips once more, your body shuddering as your orgasm rolled over you in wave after wave.

Eddie could feel the tension then leave your body, his grip becoming even more firm so that you didn’t simply melt off the vanity table. With hungry grunts he thrust up into you, his body unyielding as he used you to reach his completion; a ditzy, satisfied smile graced your lips as you felt his movements become more desperate, his hands becoming more greedy, ready to come undone at any moment.

Eddie hissed through clenched teeth as his hips slapped into you, your orgasm making you so wet for him that it was downright sinful. The rut of his cock inside you became manic with each thrust, his hands clinging so tightly to you that his knuckles were white; he was so goddamn close that he unconsciously whined, the sound making you sigh even as your eyes were still crossed.

Hastily, Eddie pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the lack of him, trying to keep your vision straight so you could drink him in. Eddie grasped his cock firmly in one hand, pumping into his fist as his head dropped back with a string of groans. He came abruptly, his seed spurting between his fingers and onto your exposed stomach, to which you gasped while still trying to come back down to earth. With his other hand, Eddie steadied himself, his weight causing the vanity to lurch a little as he continued to leak onto you, his chest heaving with labored breath.

For a long minute, you two were silent save for heavy gasps and inhales, Eddie’s eyes wound shut as he tried to recover from his orgasm; you watched his face with pining and zeal, savoring in the way his body seemed to shake from the intensity it went through. When finally he looked at you again, his gaze was hooded and dark with yearning, drinking you in carnally; your eyes locked, and briefly you were hypnotized.

Eddie reached out for you tenderly, whispering your name as he brushed his thumb along your lip, his fingers down your neck. You sighed deeply at the tenderness of his touch, eyes fluttering shut. You hummed in contentment, taking a few deep breaths before you met Eddie’s gaze again.

His smile made your heart flutter, the way he studied you made your toes curl; when finally he looked away, it was to scoop up the abandoned pair of drawers that you had long forgotten about. His gaze was amorous as he cleaned up his mess, causing you to giggle a little as if finally the thrill of the evening was setting in, as if you were finally able to wrap your head around what had just transpired between you two.

Eddie helped you sit back up, pulling you into a swift, needy kiss that nearly took your breath away. You pressed your foreheads together, breathing in the scent of each other’s sex, hesitant to speak words for fear that they may somehow shatter the moment. You gently cupped Eddie’s jaw, his own hands bracing against the vanity once again; another giggle hummed in your throat, and you felt the twitch of Eddie’s mustache as he smiled in response.

“It’s a miracle this poor vanity didn’t break.” You whispered hoarsely, your words causing Eddie to laugh as well.

“It certainly did us no favors.” He answered just as quietly. A tranquil beat of silence passed between you two.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Your doleful statement was the burdensome reminder of reality - Eddie couldn’t be found here, and you had to go on pretending as if nothing happened. You felt him sigh deeply, breath tickling across your cheeks.

“If only things were that simple, dove.”

“Stay a while longer, at least.” You pleaded, pulling back to meet his eyes, “The night is still young.”

You, of course, had no idea what time it was, although you were certain if you were to look at a clock the hour would take you aback. Eddie shook his head with amusement, as if he’d just thought the same thing, his hands trailing to rest against your hips, where his thumbs rubbed small, comfortable circles into the fabric of your nightgown.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He answered sweetly.

“Promise?”

Eddie gave you a gentle, doting kiss, “Promise.”

.

.

[PART ONE] | [MASTERLIST]

taglist | @3rd-conchord @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson

@duncanhillscoffeecups @eddiernunson @evilunicorns4minions @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur

@lavendermunson @letstevengrantsleep @littlexdeaths @marlena-marlena @mmmunson

@skrzydlak @tenthmoon

[idkyetxoxo]

Harwin Strong - Queen of Beauty

Summary - She struggles for the affection of her cold betrothed, a proud knight of the Vale. Her heart is unexpectedly drawn to another whose warm gaze offers hope. When fate intertwines their destinies, she must navigate love, rivalry, and her betrothed's dangerous wrath.

Pairing - Harwin Strong x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2205

Masterlist for Harwin • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

My betrothed was a hard, unfeeling man—a knight of the Vale, with eyes that barely found their way to me, and words that rarely acknowledged my existence. 

He was a Royce, one of the proudest of their house, a man who thought himself invincible, untouchable—a noble of iron and ice.

I sat in the stands, perched in a small section reserved for the families of the knights who would soon be fighting. 

Though I wasn't family yet, my parents and his had insisted I attend, to show him support as his intended, to cheer him on before the eyes of our houses. 

I smoothed the folds of my gown, a dress I had chosen carefully to suit his family's colours, a small, ridiculous attempt to make him notice me, to perhaps see something in me worth caring for.

"I'll take the victory, there's no doubt of it," he was saying to a fellow knight. 

His voice caught my attention, and my gaze drifted to where he stood, fitting his armour into place with that unshakeable arrogance that had already grown so familiar. He flexed his arms as his squire buckled the last of his pauldrons, adjusting his helm as though it were a crown.

"And who do you plan to crown as Queen of Beauty, then?" the other knight asked with a grin, his voice loud and teasing.

I felt the faintest smile curl on my lips, daring to hope, foolishly perhaps, that he might glance my way, might offer me some sign that I held even a small place in his thoughts. 

I braced myself for a flicker of acknowledgement, a gesture, a word... something.

But instead, his gaze drifted right past me, not even pausing as if I were invisible. 

His eyes landed instead on a different maiden nearby—a girl with bright eyes and a shy laugh, one who whispered eagerly to her friend as she looked out over the field, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"She is rather fair, isn't she?" he muttered to his companion, a note of admiration slipping into his voice that struck me like a blow. 

He was silent a moment, watching the girl as she looked away, unaware of the attention she'd captured.

The other knight chuckled, clapping my betrothed on the shoulder. "Ah, so even the stone-hearted Royce can have his head turned. Maybe there's hope for you after all."

My throat tightened, and I forced myself to swallow the hurt rising in my chest. My faint smile vanished, leaving only the empty ache of foolish hopes dashed. 

Had I truly expected him to care? To look at me and see anything more than a contract, a name he would one day inherit alongside land and title? 

My fingers clenched the fabric of my gown, knuckles whitening as I fought back the bitter sigh trembling on my lips. I looked away, willing my gaze to find anything, anyone, that might save me from the cruel reality unravelling before me.

And then I saw him—Ser Harwin Strong, standing on the other side of the field. 

He wore no armour yet, only the plain linen shirt of a man waiting for his turn, his dark hair falling carelessly over his brow as he leaned against the railing, watching me with an intensity that was disconcerting and strangely comforting all at once. 

His gaze held a warmth, a softness that took me off guard. 

Had he seen my humiliation? Had he watched it all?

He held my gaze, his eyes full of unspoken understanding, a compassion that unsettled me as much as it soothed. He did not look away, nor did he turn his gaze in pity or embarrassment. 

Instead, he tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows, a silent acknowledgement of the injustice he had witnessed.

I looked back at him, feeling a strange defiance flare within me. Let him see, I thought. Let him see the indifference I suffer. 

But as I stared, his expression shifted, the smallest, softest smile tugging at his lips, as if he found something in me worthy of defending, of saving. His expression, tender and unguarded, was as far from the stony pride of the Royce as the sun from the moon.

Without thinking, I inclined my head toward him, a silent thank you, a tiny gesture that I hoped would suffice to express the relief and strange gratitude swelling within me. 

His lips parted, and he lifted a hand as if to wave, though he paused, uncertain. 

For a moment, it seemed as though he might speak, might call out, offer some words to soothe the sting of my betrothed's cruelty. 

But then he only nodded, a barely perceptible dip of his chin, a promise left unspoken.

"Ser William," my mother's voice came sharp at my ear, jolting me. "Sit straighter. We are here to watch him," she said, her voice filled with the same unyielding pride she had harboured ever since our match had been arranged. "Your future husband. A Royce knight, no less."

I straightened, fighting the urge to pull my gaze back to where Ser Harwin stood, to where that gentle understanding had found me when I needed it most. But my mother's grip on my wrist was iron. 

"Pay him your respect," she hissed, nodding pointedly toward my betrothed.

Reluctantly, I forced myself to watch as he strode to the centre of the field, his posture strong, confident, indifferent to any eyes but his own. 

Untouchable. Unbreakable. 

And yet in that moment, all I could see was the hardness, the coldness that would become my fate.

But as I sat there, my hands clenching tightly in my lap, I knew that somewhere across the field, a kinder gaze was watching me, holding me upright against the weight of the indifference beside me.

The tourney began with the customary fanfare, trumpets blaring as banners fluttered in the brisk air, and knights from all corners of the realm gathered to prove their skill and valour. 

The air was thick with the scent of trampled grass and the faint tang of sweat and leather, mingling with the buzz of eager voices, all awaiting the clash and fury that only a tournament could promise.

I watched from my seat, heart pounding as each knight took his turn in the lists. 

The lances shattered in clouds of splinters, swords clanged with ruthless precision, and the crowd roared, each cheer echoing louder than the last. 

Somewhere in that sea of voices, I heard my own, though I knew it was hollow, a cheer forced and distant. 

My gaze was restless, flickering between my betrothed and another knight, my heart pulling toward the quieter strength of Ser Harwin Strong.

Beside me, my mother leaned in, her whisper sharp in my ear. "See how your betrothed fights. His every move is impeccable—just as one would expect of a Royce."

I nodded absently, watching William's form as he fought, coldly efficient and methodical, each strike landing with the inevitability of a winter storm.

 But even as I forced myself to applaud his victories, my heart was drawn elsewhere, to a knight whose every movement spoke of something deeper. 

Ser Harwin Strong fought with a grace that seemed effortless, his skill alive with purpose, the way he wielded his sword not merely to conquer but to command. He didn't fight for show; he fought with soul. 

More than once, I caught his gaze upon me, a look so steady and thoughtful that it sent my heart stammering.

Finally, the field dwindled, and knight after knight was eliminated until only two remained: Ser William Royce and Ser Harwin Strong. 

A hush settled over the crowd as the two prepared for their final match, a silence so deep that the mere sound of hooves echoed like distant thunder.

"Do you see?" my mother whispered, an eagerness lacing her voice as William adjusted his helm, his visor lowered in readiness. "This is his moment. Your betrothed is about to seize his rightful victory."

But something within me ached a silent cry that seemed bound to Ser Harwin's figure. 

My hands twisted in my lap, my breath catching as I watched them ride to the centre of the arena, their horses pawing the ground, both men poised as if cast from bronze, unyielding and ready.

The horn sounded, and in an instant, they charged. Their lances met with a crash, splintering as wood met steel, but neither man wavered. 

They circled, tossing aside the broken lances, swords drawn now as they clashed in a deadly dance. Their blades sang each strike more intense than the last, every parry so swift it was a blur of motion. 

I barely breathed, my heart pounding with the rhythm of the blows as they exchanged strike for strike, neither yielding.

And then, with a deft movement that seemed almost effortless, Ser Harwin's blade found its mark. 

His strike was precise, sweeping my betrothed from his horse and sending him sprawling to the ground in a tumble of dust and armour. 

The crowd erupted, an ocean of gasps and cheers that rose like a wave, as Ser Harwin dismounted, extending a hand to help his fallen opponent rise. 

But William ignored him, lifting himself with a snarl, his face twisted in fury, his wounded pride visible in every rigid line of his body.

The herald stepped forward, his voice rising above the crowd's cheers. "Ser Harwin Strong stands victorious! By the right of his triumph, he shall name and crown the Queen of Beauty."

The words echoed, and all at once, the arena's attention shifted, murmurs passing like ripples through the crowd as they speculated whom he would choose. 

My heart raced as Ser Harwin's gaze found mine. 

Could it be possible? I wondered, my fingers trembling as I watched him stride toward me, his dark eyes intent, his expression warm and without pretension.

He approached, the floral crown for the Queen of Beauty held reverently in his hands—a delicate circlet of wildflowers and woven ivy, each petal and leaf trembling in the afternoon light. 

I held my breath as he stopped before me, and the crowd seemed to fall away, leaving only the soft warmth of his gaze.

With a steady hand, he lifted the crown and placed it upon my brow, his fingertips brushing my skin with a gentleness that stole my breath. His face held a quiet respect, free from arrogance, his expression as sincere as his actions. 

Around us, whispers of surprise fluttered through the crowd, some approving, others scandalized. 

I felt every eye upon me, the weight of their gazes pressing down, yet all I could see was him, his face close to mine, his eyes kind.

Tradition dictated the next step—he was to seal his choice with a kiss. 

I stiffened, my nerves stirring, caught between a feeling of exhilaration and fear. 

His hand came to rest lightly on my shoulder, steadying me as he looked at me, sensing my unease. He smiled, barely a curve of his lips, but it was enough to reassure me.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my cheek in a gesture so tender and unassuming that it seemed to defy the very air of spectacle surrounding us. 

"Fear not, my lady," he murmured softly, his voice warm and meant only for me. "I am not here to unsettle you."

A rush of gratitude bloomed in my chest, mingling with something softer, something new, as his words lingered in the air. 

The crowd's applause surged around us, filling the arena with thunderous approval, but the moment felt impossibly intimate as if no one else could see or hear.

As he pulled away, his hand leaving my shoulder, I felt the absence of his warmth, a strange longing threading through me. 

But that feeling vanished the instant I turned and caught sight of William. 

He stood at the edge of the field, his face contorted with barely suppressed rage, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes dark and full of something dangerous. 

Though he held his silence, the threat in his gaze was unmistakable, his wounded pride radiating like the heat of a flame.

I met his eyes for a fleeting moment, feeling the unspoken storm between us, the shattered pieces of whatever fragile peace had held us together as betrothed. 

I could feel it slipping away, replaced by something colder, harsher, something that would not rest easy. 

In that gaze, I saw a man who had been humiliated, who would not forgive.

Ser Harwin lingered, as if sensing the shift, his eyes flickering between William and me. His expression held a quiet resolve, a silent promise as if to say that he would not leave me vulnerable. 

A weight seemed to settle over us, a silent understanding that whatever lay ahead, it would not be simple.

As the crowd began to disperse, whispers and curious glances following us, I looked once more to Ser Harwin. 

He met my gaze, his eyes steady and sure, his presence a balm to the uncertain ache in my chest. 

And though I didn't yet know what the future held, I knew with unwavering certainty that something within me had changed—some ember within that he had kindled with a single, soft touch.

A/n - Edited this half asleep so if there's any mistakes just close your eyes x

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just… emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[sunfish5149]

After rewatching round 6 for the nth time I just realized Till Win is reflected in Ivan's blood and OH. MY BMFUCCKIGBGOOOODDDD I HATE THEM I HATE THEM O HATE TJEM they could never make me hate you ivan.

Till standing next to Ivan while his body is still cooling feels awfully a lot like how a person would mourn at their loved one's grave, but I think that there's a lot more going on inside Till's head, and this just saddens me. I would crumble personally if I was him, because to me, Ivan's death also feels like a slap to the face I guess? Because until now his crush on Mizi allowed him to be selfish, to believe that once she was gone, he would be left all alone. He gave up his will to live, accepted defeat without further struggle, because he idolized and idealized Mizi to a point where his whole life depended on her existence. Perhaps he does have a crush on Mizi, but I fully believe that it partly stems from the love and adoration he saw Mizi offer to Sua, almost like "what if I could have that too?". He could not bear to part with the love and salvation he saw within Mizi, to the point where he gave away his freedom just to be near her, just for the chance that maybe he'd finally know what it feels like to be wanted, to be loved. He selfishly cut away at all the bad parts in this picture that he did not want to see, the worthless parts, the painful ones, the suffering he has endured at the hands of his captors, and ended up cutting away at the people that might've cared for him, that still do, until nothing but Mizi remained, who he foolishly believed to be able to offer him what he so desperately wanted. He made himself believe that he was alone, up until he truly, truly was. Until when can a man doggedly chase after one person until the death of what I dare call " the closest thing to family he has ever had" drop like flies around him? Round 6 offers us an answer.

I believe that part of the reason why he stood there as Ivan bled out is him processing that someone actually cared about him, loved the parts of Till that he saw to be loveless. It also feels like a wake-up call, the cut up picture that he has constructed his life around has finally been proven as the lie it is. He can no longer be selfish enough to close his eyes on reality, on his obsessive idealization for someone who will never, who cannot save him, on the fact that Mizi already loves somebody else so dearly, because the love he was searching for in someone, to be returned, was right next to him all along.

Too bad he only noticed Ivan when he was bleeding out at his feet. This is the closest thing to salvation Till will ever get from someone, to love so dearly one would give away their life without hesitation, to throw away their freedom, to not cut away at the corners of this picture, but to see it and love it and do everything to preserve it. Should Till look at such a picture, he would find the pieces of paper he has cut of himself which he believed to be loveless, reflected back at him in that puddle of blood. (I wrote this part fully relying on the muscle memory of my keyboard because my tears were deeply obstructing my vision)

This sacrifice will either ruin Till or give him motivation to live and the tenacity to fight back and free himself from the prison he has willingly walked in, and to finally accept that Mizi is a lesbiab and a ferocious grieving woman kisser. oh my god.

Edit: I JUST REALIZED MIZI ALSO IDOLIZES SUA THE SAME WAY TILL DOES WITH MIZI I HATE THEM I HATE TJEM J HATWHENM

Edit 2: this rant is lowkey outdated because first of all, I feel like I insulted Till's love for Mizi. Just as Ivan loved Till for his tenacity and fighting spirit, and whatever else he saw in that wet cat of a man, so did Till love Mizi, for her innocent happiness and love that poured out of her. She was the only one out of them who was blissfully unaware to the pain and suffering of the humans, and the shit the aliens put the rest through, the fact that Till was attracted to her partly because of that makes me feel miserable. I do wonder what he will think, should he survive and see just how much Mizi has changed, how she has grown to fight for what she wants to protect.

I also feel that I have underestimated Till's relation to Ivan, he truly did care for him, Ivan was just too cryptic to express himself

[cloudcountry]

you may have made me a temporary Rollo liker but I will always ALWAYS be a riddle kisser I can't like someone with such a bad haircut

i know I like just rqsed smth kinda fluffy but what if we make him SOB make him suffer in not a fun way, maybe readers dating one of the glosmao boys and Rollo just hates them bc their not good enough for reader (atleast to rollo)

SUMMARY: rollo looks on as you dance with your boyfriend.

WARNINGS: none!!

COMMENTS: hey bestie! what is wrong with you! i kept the nrc guy vague so you can imagine whoever you want ^^

There’s a twisting pain in Rollo’s heart as he watches you from across the room, dancing with someone who isn’t him. He should have known better than to fantasize about you being his because you weren’t and you would never be but that didn’t stop him from foolishly hoping that you would ask to dance with him.

He couldn’t help but look at you, because you were smiling and laughing and enjoying yourself. And because of that, he saw exactly how tenderly the boy dancing with you held you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled at the edges. He shouldn’t have been touching you. He shouldn’t have been dancing with you.

That should be him.

It was so, so selfish of him to want you so bad, even though you didn’t even care that he existed.

You brought hope to the city Rollo cherished so much, you brought your magicless, pure self into his life and had the gall to disregard him. How could you, when you were his everything?

He could still feel your fingers slipping against his when he helped you up the Bell Tower’s steps.

He could still feel your breath against his ear when you leaned over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

He could still see your smile when you tried a delicious pastry from one of his favorite cafes.

But you forgot about those moments as soon as they passed.

Rollo winces when the mage you’re dancing with presses a soft kiss to your skin, cherishing the patches of skin Rollo would never touch. Wetness slides down his cheeks and he touches his face softly, unaware of when he had started crying. Frustration wells up in his chest and he whips around, storming away from the scene that ripped his heart out and trampled it on the cobblestones.

Rollo had lost you before you were ever his.

You were happier with someone that wasn’t him.

And you’d never even give him a chance, because all you cared about was yourself.

[upsidedownmvnson]

dungeons and douchebags | eddie munson

where eddie munson kills your dnd character out of spite & you end up in the hospital in the same day. eddie, of course, blames only himself.

full fic of this blurb :)

AN: i named the third guy keith bc he needed a name, and if his role was pre-established im SORRY but hes a mage. a lot of the dnd stuff im sure is wrong and doesnt work but let me live

also i love this so u should to

also also I KNOW ITS A SHITTY THING FOR A DM TO DO - thats the point

Eddie’s annoyed with you when you’re not on time for Hellfire.

You know he’s sensitive about starting on time, but still you were running late again, even though this time you promised it would be different, and you would even be early.

And Eddie had foolishly believed you again. It hurt especially, because even though you were just friends, Eddie was so painfully in love with you. All day every day, he was pining, yearning, longing. You were on his mind all the time, and you... you couldn't even bother to be on time for Hellfire.

When he begged you to be on time earlier in the day, he had made sure to mention that it would mean a lot to him if you were on time. And he thinks that if you love him back, you'll definitely care when he communicates something like that.

He knows he shouldn't let himself feel like this, but every Friday he's reminded that he's not special to you. He's not the one person you're always on time for. Eddie thinks, somehow, that if you're on time for Hellfire, well then maybe you like him too. It's silly, but it's what he does. It gets more painful as time goes on and you're still not there.

The mood slowly shifts to something tense as time ticks on. You’re always a couple minutes late but nearly an hour? Eddie is painfully frustrated, and his feelings are hurt. Eddie has overthught himself to a dramatic conclusion that you've decided you're above Hellfire.

While the party chats on totally unaware, barely even recognizing that they still haven't started, Eddie thinks you've looked in the mirror and recognized that you're better than them. That you can, and should, have everything and everyone you want. He thinks you'll want to be with a jock. Or maybe a cheerleader. He thinks you've decided not to love him.

In a fit of self pity and rage, he decides to leave your character behind, so the party left you alone, sleeping in a cave.

"Attention," Eddie says, "the sun is rising. It's time to pack your bags and move on."

Dustin looks confused, "where's y/n?"

"Who knows?" Eddie tries to look unamused to hide his pain, but it slips, and ends up just looking angry.

Eddie rolls a perception check for you to see if you wake up. He rolls an 18. And with your build you would've noticed the group leaving without you. Eddie is still think about you in the arms of a jock. "She fails." Eddie looks at the group with an evil grin. "You leave the camp unnoticed."

As the game goes on, Eddie feels crappy. He's never cheated like that before. Like, sure, he's changed a roll or two to make the plot better, or to not totally kill one of his players because some random NPC got a nat 20. That was his right as DM. But... leaving you like that was less than cool.

But even worse, when they return to the cave later, you're stuck in a bandit situation. Eddie really, truly, genuinely expected the party to save you. Except, one thing led to another, and you were stabbed through stomach, making you bleed out. Normally, this is where you'd roll your life saving throws.

It wasn't really supposed to play out like that. But he didn't expect the party to roll such terrible throws, all of them accidently leaving you defenseless. Eddie kinda feels bad, but you hurt him first.

What he doesn't expect is Steve Harrington bursting into the drama room, looking frenzied, just a few moments later. The party halts. The last thing happening in the game was the party finishing off the last bandit, and running to your aid. But now, they were all just staring at Steve. Eddie approached his friend, worried about the look in Steve’s eyes.

Steve stood up straight, and cleared his throat. Weakly he says, “something terrible happened.”

And then Steve tells them all about your car accident, and Eddie feels sick. His knees buckle, and Steve has to hold him up. He’s totally disoriented by this news. He feels his heartbeat pounding behind his eyes, and his ears ring loudly, barely registering the panicked talking going on around him

“They're alive,” Steve was shouting, but because people weren’t letting him talk, he had to keep shouting it over the hundred questions. They wouldn't be able to handle it. Not again. Not when Max still hasn't woken up. “Eddie? Can you hear me buddy?”

But Eddie was in shock. He was blaming himself. He killed you.

“Can you walk? I'll drive you,” Steve says, as Gareth searches Eddie's pockets for the keys to the van. “Dustin, get over here, help me get Eddie to the car.” Eddie overhears Jeff tell everyone to meet at the van.

As soon as they get moving, the adrenaline starts pumping through Eddie’s body. He was suddenly able to break free of his friends' aid and pick up his pace, and the three of them ran through the school and into the parking lot. The dim light Steve parked by was flickering, putting a weak spotlight on Eddie as he tugged the door handle on the passenger seat

“Let me unlock it,” Steve snapped, fumbling the keys in his hand. He dropped them, the pressure of Eddie’s stare was kinda terrifying. He got the door open and unlocked the others.

When they were in the car, Eddie was finally alert, if anything overaware.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snapped.

No one said anything. There was nothing they could say that would make Eddie feel better, or calm down. Steve sped out of the parking lot, blowing the stop sign. He really shouldn't have, given the whole reason you were in the hospital.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't happening. He was wrong. He was being petty and he was hurt because he thought you were being a dick but you were - he was gunna throw up - you were somewhere bleeding. While he was busy killing you, you were actually laying on the asphalt after a violent car crash. And he was thinking you're an asshole

“Their character died,” Eddie said, “I've killed them.”

“It's not gunna happen,” Steve said, gripping the steering wheel. It was a statement he couldn't back up.

At the hospital, Eddie barely waited for the car to stop before he was running inside, tripping over his own feet as he rushed to get to you. dustin was hot on his trail and steve was parking the car.

Eddie saw Nancy with Jonathan over by the nurse's station, and when Nancy saw him, she came hustling over, putting her hands on Eddie's arms. Dustin spoke quietly with Jonathan in the background.

“Relax,” she said, “please breath. They’re okay right now, they’re in surgery, and it's going really well, okay?”

“Wheeler?” Eddie asked, eyes filling with tears he had no control over.

“It has to be fine,” Nancy said, “sit with me.” Nancy Wheeler was not going to lose another friend today. Not again.

And with no other options he listened, following Nancy to an uncomfortable plastic chair that squeaked when he sat. Nancy held his hand over the stiff arm rests, but he didn't find any comfort. He didn't think he would until he was with you again.

Jonathan sat beside Nancy, giving her a sad smile and handing her a bitter coffee. He sat quietly, letting Nancy give Eddie her attention. Dustin sat on the other side of Eddie, also opting to stay quiet. What was anyone supposed to say?

Honestly, the only thing Eddie wanted to hear was your voice.

Nothing changed for the first two days. But on the third day, the only change was in Eddie. He went from sitting quietly by your side to scribbling stuff in a notebook like a crazy person. He would also dip out to go use a library computer, or "check on some things," as he explained to Nancy.

Her and Steve were mutually concerned about Eddie's state. He was constantly babbling about saving you, and how he's figured it out they just have to succeed.

Everyone else got a chance to be worried when they got a call Tuesday saying there was a mandatory Hellfire meeting and anyone not in attendance would be left behind, and unwelcome for the rest of the campaign. He couldn't risk a single missing member. Not with the stakes...

Tuesday evening, Gareth, Jeff, and Keith are the first to arrive. They are curious as to what the hell their bandmate had cooked up, but they were more worried than excited. Eddie hadn't exactly been himself the last couple of days.

They don't expect a set up even more elaborate than usual. The lights are red and blue, making the room feel eerie, and small.

"Welcome to Hell," Eddie said, grinning and holding his arms open wide.

Gareth and Jeff exchanged a look, but were too nervous to speak. Eddie didn't want to explain the objective twice, so he waited for the rest of the party to arrive before he said anything, but the look in his eye feels sinister. His friends suddenly realized how truly fucked Eddie would be if anything happened to you.... like... for keeps.

When the rest of the party is there, they look to Eddie expectantly, but he just continues to smile like a maniac and tells everyone to take their seats. Dustin is confused to see Steve Harrington sneak into the room and lean against the wall.

"I cheated," he says when he has the attention of the flock, "y/n didn't fail the perception check, and therefore their death wasn't fair. However, death is death. So we're going to have to bring them back."

Dustin notices that Steve Harrington's presence is not explained.

Nancy sits at your bedside like she has for the better part of the last four days. She holds a book in one hand, and the other rests casually beside you, near your hand. She looks at you, and then her hand. She gets a supernatural chill.

She puts her book down, and speaks your name quietly, looking for any sign of life from you. One more day of your glass features and she was going to crumble. Nancy shakes the bizarre feeling from her head, and pats your hand.

She shocked when you're ice cold to the touch. She recoils, pulling away fast. But after the initial shock fades, she touches you again. There was no way that was right, right? You were freezing. What the hell was that about? Nancy starts a search for a blanket to warm you up.

A mage freezes your body. The party scavenges for anything that can help and then leave the cave, your frozen body in tow. Another player can't make life saving throws for you, so they were thinking outside the box. They would take you deep, deep into an ancient necromancer's lair, and steal the resurrection stone from around his neck.

Nancy returns with a simply grey blanket, and a very friendly nurse. They had gotten to talking, and Nancy has simply explained how cold you had been, having not thought too much of it. The nurse, Sophie, had decided to come check it out too.

"Oh my gosh," Sophie says, feeling the ice cold skin. "Oh my gosh, she's like ice!"

And leaves Nancy feeling a little worried as she scurries out of the room. It was like she'd never seen anything like it. Nancy feels uneasy, and makes a quick phone call from your bedside phone. Jonathan picks up, and as soon as he hears the concern in her voice, he's on the way.

Nancy hangs up, picks the phone back up, and calls Steve. He picks up on the first ring.

"Something is like... actually happening over here," she whispers, shocked to even be saying it.

"No shot," he says, nearly laughing at the idea. He whispers the next part so the group doesn't hear anything, "I thought we agreed Eddie was just crazy, and this whole 'saving her character will save her' was just to show him that he didn't cause all this."

"I know we did," she said, "but y/n is cold as ice."

Eddie's voice booms as he narrates the perilous journey. After trap rooms, fighting devil dogs, two gargoyles, and a Molydeus that nearly killed Mike. They had made it into the inner sanctum, but had all failed to roll perception upon entering, and set off a fire trap. One that melted the spell on you, leaving you warm enough to die. "Hurry!" Dustin shouted, "engage the necromancer! Hit 'em with everything we got."

Nancy is already back into her book, Jonathan sitting on the floor beside her, leaning his head against the armrest, while she dangles a dainty arm over his shoulder, letting it lay relaxed on his chest. A single beep draws her attention. She notices something different, but she can't say what. Your cheeks are rosy.

Nancy brings her hand off of Jonathan, drawing his attention too. She puts a cool hand against your forehead, and is again shocked by how you feel. You're burning up. You're fucking hot. Like boiling. Nancy runs to find Sophie again.

The turn is Keith's, his mage more powerful than the others, but instead turns his attention to your character. "I cast flesh to stone on y/n!" the mage shouts. "She'll die if she stays like this." "Roll for it!" "18!" "Pass!" Your body is frozen again, this time encased in stone. Another stall, and Eddie knows the party is running out of time.

"You have to feel her head," Nancy says, speed walking with the bubbly nurse hot on her trail. Sophie complies, and gasps.

"It's not possible," she says quietly, "I'm getting the doctor. There's something strange about your friend."

Nancy looks down at you, and jumps out of her skin when the machines start beeping wildly. All of them making different noises, all of them loud. Sophie rushes back in, with more staff behind her. Nancy and Jonathan are ushered out of the room by a woman who explains that you're in a code blue, which means they have to resuscitate you.

Nancy looks around the white hallway. She's overwhelmed and underpaid.

"Stay here," she tells her boyfriend. "This is crazy!"

But she runs off before she explains anything else. She's after a phone, which she finds with no trouble. She fishes a quarter out of her pocket, and uses it to call Steve again. He picks up as fast as last time, desperate for something other than watching dnd.

"Whatever they're doing, tell them to hurry up!" she's shouting, drawing the attention of patients and staff around her. "Something's happening! She's not breathing!"

The necromancer stands injured. The party cornering him, making him cower. He trembles, and begs for his life. He explains that the party came to his home, killed his people, and now wish to rip off the very thing that keeps him alive. "I stab him through the heart, and I take the necklace." Dustin says. As he looks at Steve, he thinks he understands what's going on. "Roll." "For what?" "Dexterity." Dustin rolls his die. The table is silent. The little D20 lands. the group erupts when they see the Nat 20 he rolled, effectively grabbing the necklace and throwing it around your neck from a metre away like horseshoe. As it lands on you, the ground shifts under the party's feet. Everyone stares in silence, both in the campaign and real life. Your character opens her eyes, coughs, and rises.

The party roars to life at the table, cheering at a job well done and slamming hands on the table in excitement. But the cheers are short lived, silence coats the room but this one is different. It's serious, eery. They can see that Steve looks worried, and he's trying to get Nancy to answer him, but he's getting nothing. looking at Steve expectantly. Apparently, everyone had figured out what the plan was. They all knew they were trying to wake you up. Steve says nothing. Just hangs up the phone, looking up with a disappointed frown.

"The line went dead."

Steve is once again driving Eddie to the hospital. And he's a nervous wreck. You're like schrodinger's cat. Eddie doesn't know if you're alive or not. He chews on the side of his thumb during the entire ride. The rest of the club was waiting patiently in the drama room. Eddie and Steve promised to call as soon as they knew anything.

Eddie can't fucking breath as he sprints down the hospital hallways, ignoring every sign and person telling him not to. He doesn't care. He has to get to you.

Wheeler is outside your room talking to a doctor, but with her back to him he couldn't see the bright, beautiful smile on her face talking excitedly about your miraculous recovery. Eddie runs right passed her to your room, and uses the doorframe to propel himself in, scaring both you and Jonathan who had been sitting quietly.

You look pale, and there are bags under your eyes. But you're sporting a weak smile, shaky hands holding a cup of lime jello. Eddie can't help but smile. You're awake, sitting up, and smiling at him. He has to laugh at the like, ten empty jello packages. Jonathan slips out the door without a word, and Eddie takes his seat by your bed.

"I was so fuckin' scared," Eddie says, tears falling from his eyes before he could even process it. He hadn't realized.

You hold your hand out for him and whisper, "Eddie," and he looks up, puppy dog eyes glossy with lingering tears, and heartbreaking to see. He takes your hand. "You didn't do this."

And he cries harder, leaning down and holding your hand to his forehead and begging your forgiveness anyway. "I did," he cries, "out of spite and jealousy, I tried to hurt you, and I did. I let them leave you alone. I made them and I cheated-"

"-Eddie-"

"-and you should've seen the party-"

"-Eddie, seriously-"

"-leaving because you totally passed the, ow, hey!"

You had flicked him on the nose, his babbling giving you no other choice, but as usual he was being dramatic, you hadn't actually hurt him at all.

"Eddie, stop, and listen to me," you say, "you didn't do this. You're not actually all powerful, you know that, right?"

"But-"

"But nothing," you say, smiling. "But Nancy told me that you saved me so no hard feelings."

Eddie smiles back at you, letting you wipe the tears leftover on his flushed cheeks. He leans into your touch and your heart swells. In your mind, you beg him to kiss you. You beg and plead and hope that this will be the time he makes a move.

He knows this is his chance, he leans closer to you, slowly, gauging your reaction. "Is this okay?" he whispers, when he's just an inch from your lips. You feel his breath as he speaks and you can't resist, pushing yourself forward to close the gap. And he kisses you like he's kissed you a hundred times before. Like he already knows everything you will like, even before you do. His lips are so fucking soft against yours, all plush and warm and taking over your senses.

"Well, I guess I can tell the others that you're fine," Steve says, and Eddie pulls away from you. His sudden absence is cold.

"I saved her," Eddie says, grinning. "Nancy said so."

the hair on the back of will's neck having a disco party during this entire fic