#the fact i wasn't happy was because there is something so wrong inside me. it's always been that way. i convinced myself:

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

[nostalgicfun]

My boyfriend was on the phone with his dad yesterday so I went out to sit on the patio to pet the geese and play on my phone for a bit, and while out there I came across a comic of baby Grimace (yes, that Grimace) being sad because everyone hated his milkshake and saying he wished he never had a birthday. Then there was a follow up where tons of people had commented saying they loved the shake and wished Grimace a happy birthday, and that made him happy again.

This, for whatever reason, emotionally devastated me. I was sobbing. I was ugly crying so bad that even the geese waddled away side-eyeing me.

After a while my bf yelled from inside, "Okay, you ready for dinner?" and I was forced to accept I had to go back in the house a defeated sniffly little wreck.

My boyfriend, who has only ever seen me cry once in the whole year we've been together, looked horrorstruck. He assumed the worst. Someone got hurt. Something was wrong with my family. Someone was mean to me (a cardinal sin). The panic that washed over his face was unparalleled.

He, upon seeing me, (somewhat theatrically) rushed over and grabbed me by the shoulders. "What's wrong, what happened? Are you okay?" he asked, frantic. "What is it?"

I realized how ridiculous the whole situation was and just shook my head.

He was growing more panicked. "What is it? Why are you crying?"

I then had to stand there and look him, this completely normal human being, in the eyes, and blurt out "Grimace"

Confused silence followed.

"....Grimace?"

I nodded.

"...The McDonalds guy...thing?"

I nodded.

"What...what did...Grimace...do to you?"

I then tearfully recounted the silly internet comic that had absolutely broken my heart. And this poor guy--this poor, wonderfully sweet, nice, patient guy--kindly stood there trying to figure out how to comfort me that Grimace was not, in fact, sad. (Nevermind that he's a corporate mascot who isn't real)

This morning my phone rang just after 5am. It was my boyfriend. It was my turn to panic, to assume the worst.

I didn't even have time to say hello before he started excitedly yelling, "Look at the TikTok I just sent you! Look! Open it!"

Confused and not entirely convinced I wasn't still asleep, I opened the TikTok.

An official release from McDonalds confirming Grimace (who still isn't real) did, in fact, feel special on his birthday.

[randomshyperson]

Saw your drabble list challenge thingie, here's my request, absolutely no pressure or whatsoever though.

Wanda + hugs + no. 24

Your writing makes me so giddy and warm, like a school girl kicking her legs while reading dork diaries.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: hugging with height difference | warnings: none.

The team had thrown a big party to celebrate your return.

Wanda was feeling a bit out of the loop. Of course, she was relieved and genuinely happy that you were back, safe, and with little more than a few scratches on your face. But the setting, a room full of Avengers and anyone else Tony Stark could get at such short notice, wasn't exactly her scene.

Besides, Wanda barely had time to see you. Your sudden arrival at the compound was as quick as your departure - Shield had a lot of questions about your last mission. And the brief wave and a whisper of "see you later" was the only greeting Wanda received.

She forced herself to go to the party - Out of consideration for you and also because the Black Widow had politely persuaded her to attend.

But going didn't mean participating, and Wanda spent most of the night hiding in the bar while you told people all about your adventures in space with Captain Danvers and the God of Thunder - the latter seemed quite happy to have the attention stolen since he could focus on his fiancée Jane, instead of fawning guests.

Wanda hadn't seen Carol since she arrived, and she wished you had been as quick as the captain in escaping the guests.

Her patience grew thin as the night went on. In fact, Wanda could have stopped pouting at any moment and gone to greet you (Natasha's words, not hers) but she ended up being overcome by introversion, and the pain in her feet from the heels she chose, so just before they cut your cake - a birthday lost due to your time out of the planet - she sneaked out.

She could talk to you tomorrow. Or any other day, when she no longer has that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she imagines herself under your attention, talking directly to you, or being alone in your presence.

The path to the room is lonely since that side of the compound is empty due to the party. She holds her heels in her right hand but almost drops them on the floor when the elevator at the other end of the hallway opens, and you stumble out, breathless as if you were running to catch up with it.

"Hey, Wanda!" Your face lights up with a mix of happiness and relief, having managed to find her, so close to her bedroom door. She shifted her weight between her feet, smiling awkwardly. You tried to seem less flustered. "I can't believe you ran away from my party."

Wanda only realized how much she missed having you torment her when you did it again. She felt a lump form in her throat, surprising herself with the sudden urge to cry. You sighed immediately, as affected to see her again as she was.

"Sorry." She murmurs hoarsely. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“I know.” You give her a small smile, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she notices your footsteps toward her. “I guess I’m the one who should apologize. For not coming to talk to you sooner.”

She shakes her head. “You seemed busy.”

“Busy for my best friend? Never.” You assure her, earning a tearful laugh from her. Wanda isn’t surprised when your hands find her cheeks, wiping away the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d let fall. It was the first thing you did for her so long ago, back in a cell in Sokovia when you first met her, and something you’ve done ever since whenever she thinks of Pietro. You frown, worried about her tears, and Wanda sniffs softly, trying to control her emotions. “Did I say something wrong?”

She brings her free hand to your left wrist, massaging your skin with her thumb, while your hands linger on her cheeks, caressing the damp skin. “It’s just… so good to see you again.” She confesses, smiling through her tears. "You took a while." 

"The longest months of my life, believe me." You comment, offering her a small smile. There's a quick exchange of glances between you. Wanda thinks she imagines your eyes falling to her lips before you sigh and look at her with such affection that she feels her heart swell. "Come here, Wands."

She doesn't need to be told twice. It's not the first time she's hugged you, but it's only the third. The first time, you carried her in your arms away from a fallen city, and Wanda let her arms wrap around your neck. She couldn't even tell if it could be considered a hug, but it meant the world to her. The second, the first real hug, was on impulse after long training sessions in the tower and you were on enough adrenaline to forget about your super strength. Wanda complained softly, and you never hugged her again after a series of apologies.

But tonight, you wrapped your arms around her. Gentle at first, then as tight as you could. Wanda let her heels slide to the floor, her hands moving up to your back. The height difference between her and a Kryptonian was considerable, but it only made everything more perfect. She didn’t think much, just buried her face against your chest, inhaling deeply and letting her body relax into your hold.

Your fingers wrapped around her hair, massaging her scalp and running through the strands as she felt the heat from her cheeks spread throughout her body. She could no longer tell if it was emanating from you or her.

"I really missed you, witchy." 

She nodded softly at your words, her heart racing in her chest. She realized at that moment that there was no way to put into words the feeling that your absence caused her. She sighed, tightening the hug a little. You seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a billy hargrove x reader where they’re at a party (i’d like the whole crew to all be friends robin, steve, nancy, billy, eddie) and reader wanders off for a minute. she somehow gets in the middle of a fight and someone hits her. she comes up to billy crying and he goes into super protective mode? idk i thought it sounded kind of cute i love your writing!!

I miss Billy. And thank you so much!!! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Bodyguard

Billy and Y/N have been together for almost two years. They met when he moved into town, she was swept away by his charming smile and blue eyes. She was a grade younger, now finally in her senior year alongside Eddie and Robin. Billy graduated with Steve and Nancy, but they all still hung out. And since Y/N was in high school knew the popular crowd, and was King Billy's girlfriend, she got invited to a lot of parties. And the group was always happy to tag along.

Billy, Steve, and Eddie were hanging outside, passing around a cigarette as they leaned against the back of the house. Robin, Nancy, and Y/N were inside, dancing and getting drinks. The boys were chatting among random things, then Robin came rushing out. She stood by the back door and searched the crowd. Once her eyes landed on Billy she screamed for him.

~~~

"JASON! RELAX!" Y/N yelled, Jason was yanking Chrissy around the party, another fight that Y/N didn't know what about. She wanted to protect her friend, Chrissy.

"This doesn't involve you," Jason growled, his grip still on Chrissy but he got in Y/N's face. Robin and Nancy watched nervously, a bad feeling in their gut.

"Y/N, just leave it!" Nancy tried, a crowd forming around the arguing couple.

"She's not going home with you. She said no and that means no." Y/N snapped, she didn't back down, holding her head higher as Jason looked down at her.

"She's my girlfriend, so butt out," Jason said, turning around as he dragged Chrissy with him. Y/N stepped in quickly, grabbing Chrissy's other arm. Y/N yanked her back, Jason lost his grip and his hand flew back smacking Y/N right in the nose. Y/N yelped and covered her nose, feeling warm blood dripping from her nose.

~~~

"BILLY. ITS Y/N!" Billy, Steve, and Eddie all jumped into action, Billy smashed the cigarette under his shoe and raced to Robin.

Steve and Eddie knew if it involved Y/N, Billy wouldn't think rationally.

"WHAT'S WRONG?" Billy yelled, following her into the house. Robin didn't try to explain, just racing to the bathroom.

Billy felt nervous, was she sick?

Billy walked in to see Nancy holding ice to Y/N's nose, the front of her dress had spots of blood. He softly pushed Nancy aside, grabbing the ice as he held it for Y/N. Chrissy was silent in the corner.

"What happened?" He whispered, gently rubbing her cheek as he looked at her nose. It wasn't broken, which he was thankful for.

"Nothing, I'm fine, baby," she said, rubbing his arm. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were soaked. Her lip trembled as she silently cried.

"Baby, you have a bruised nose. Did you slip or something? Nothing to be embarrassed about." He joked, a smile on his face. But the atmosphere told him it wasn't anything that would be funny in a day from now.

"She was helping me and Jason flung his arm and he smacked her in the nose," Chrissy said, drowning in the amount of guilt she felt.

Billy's expression went hard in seconds. Steve and Eddie immediately blocked the door as Billy started to breathe heavily.

"He hit you?" Billy snarled, dropping the ice in the sink as he took in her face.

"It was an accident, Billy! Just relax. I'm okay!" She tried, but all Billy could focus on was the fact that she had blood on her dress because of Jason.

"You're okay? You have a fucking bloody nose! I'm going to kill him!" Billy growled. He turned and glared at Steve and Eddie.

"Move." He demanded, but both boys shook their heads.

"Billy, not a good idea. She's okay and she doesn't want you to get involved with it." Steve explained. But Billy didn't care.

"Move or I move you." Billy tried again.

Steve and Eddie looked at each other, knowing the result would land them in pain or Jason. Both boys moved away from the door, Billy yanking it open as he raced out to the party.

"BILLY!" Y/N screamed, running after him. The gang followed behind, all rushing to see what was going to happen.

By the time they caught up, Billy had Jason pinned against the wall. His blue eyes were dark as he growled at Jason.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! SHE PUT HER NOSE WHERE IT DIDN'T BELONG. MAYBE KEEP YOUR LITTLE SLUT OF THE WEEK ON A TIGHTER LEASH!" Jason yelled, barely realizing his mistake until Billy landed a knee to his stomach, over and over.

Jason screamed in pain as Billy dropped him, his body crumpling to the floor as he held his stomach. Now on his knees, Billy landed a punch right across his face. Blood poured out of Jason's nose as he dropped completely to the ground this time. He wrapped his arms around his face as he tried to surrender.

"Enough" Eddie demanded, stepping in front of Jason as Billy went to land a kick to his stomach.

"DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH HER OR EVEN TALK ABOUT HER AGAIN!" Billy screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Eddie said, snapping his fingers in Billy's face to catch his attention. Billy finally looked at him, breathing heavily as he tried to calm down.

"He got the message. Y/N is fine and needs you now. Okay? Walk away."

Billy listened to Eddie's words and took a deep breath. His body relaxed when he felt Y/N's hand slip into his. She squeezed it gently as she stood next to him. She gave him a look and he understood everything. He nodded and walked with her. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her nose as they walked to his car.

"My bodyguard." Y/N swooned, giggling as she snuggled into his body, reaching his car.

"Precious things like you need extra protection," Billy said, smiling as he leaned down to peck her lips softly.

The gang races out, Robin laughing as she held empty bottles of beer, along with Nancy.

"GET IN! GO GO!" Steve yelled, Eddie running behind.

A soaked Jason came limping out, his white shirt now drenched as he held his nose. Cursing as the gang raced into the car and sped off.

[charlieleclerc16]

Lost and Found*

Summary: Charles and Y/N have been best friends since they were little kids but they lost track of each other over time. When Charles is in town for his home race they finally reunite and their meeting is sweeter than ever.

Pairing: Bestie!Charles x You

Word count: 4.4K

Warnings: Smut, fluff, cute. There might be some unprotected action in there, I'm sorry.

It's been a very long time since you last saw your best friend. It has been years, which is a shame, but there were reasons. The biggest reason was that he was travelling all over the world for the World Drivers' Championship, and that caused his schedule to be incredibly full. There is also the fact that, because he is rarely home to begin with, you don’t get many chances to see him.

Charles always tries to keep in touch, even with the crazy life he leads. But that might mean only brief texts and the occasional phone call. Sometimes not even those. The last time you heard from him was six months ago when he called to ask how your family was doing. He sounded so tired but excited. You talked for an hour, and it was almost like the last years hadn't happened.

With the new season starting up and him being back on the road, you decided to contact Pascale and see if she could get you in for the Monaco GP. This is an amazing opportunity for you to finally see your best friend and to surprise him with your presence.

The excitement about race day has been building up inside of you ever since you decided to do this. You know you can't expect much attention from Charles after the race, but you're looking forward to seeing him and getting to see him drive. You haven't seen him in person in two years.

You take a shower and then put on the black top and red high-waisted jeans that you have planned to wear to the grid, gotta support Ferrari. When you get into the kitchen, you realise that you are too nervous and excited to eat, so you settle for a banana. You check the time and are happy to notice that you still have some time left to spare, so you go into the living room and switch on the television.

There are no good shows on, so you switch to the music channels and find one that is showing a rerun of an interview Charles did a couple of years ago. The whole country, how small it may be, always turns into full mayhem when it’s raceweek. You smile as you watch him talk. Even after all these years, it's still the same Charlie. He's still your Charlie. You feel a pang in your heart when he smiles his cheeky grin at the interviewer, and you realise just how much you miss him.

As if reading your mind, your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You reach for it and see Charles' caller ID on the screen. You pick up and bring the phone to your ear.

"Charles?"

"Hi, baby!" He sounds excited. "Did I call at a good time? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm not. I was just watching TV." She decides to not tell him that she is going to see him in a couple of hours.

"Oh, what are you watching?"

"Um, an interview. It's not important. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the race?"

"I have a free half hour, and I'm hiding, so nobody can find me. I really needed to talk to you, and I couldn't wait anymore."

"Why did you need to talk to me? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. You're coming to the track today, aren't you?"

Your eyes grow wide and your stomach somersaults. How did he know? Did his mother give something away?

"How...how did you know?" You finally manage to say.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know how you talk when you're nervous and when you're not. When I talked to you about my home race last week, your voice didn't sound like usual. You sounded nervous, and it was pretty obvious that you were going." He laughs on the phone.

"Wow, I'm not very subtle, am I?" You feel stupid.

"You really aren't." His voice sounds warm and inviting, and you feel a shiver running down your spine.

"So, why did you want to call me, if it wasn't to tell me not to come?"

"Oh, I would never tell you not to come. I really want you to be there today."

"But… Don’t you have a very busy schedule? You probably won't even have time to see me."

"Don't worry, baby. I will definitely see you. If I don't, you should find the backstage area and tell them to let you in. I already told the security team your name. They'll let you in."

"Really? Charles, you're crazy. You have a race to prepare for. You shouldn't let random fans into your private space."

"But you're not a random fan. You're Y/N."

"I'm glad that you still think of me like that, even though we haven't seen each other in a while."

"What do you mean?" Charles sounds confused. "Of course, I still think of you as my best friend. Nothing can change that."

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You don't want to cry, not now. Charles means the world to you, and he will never know. You are not the kind of girl who confesses her love to crushes, not even when they are her best friends.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I was just thinking about something."

"Well, stop thinking. We're going to see each other in a couple of hours." He is smiling; you can hear it in his voice.

***

When you enter the city centre, the excitement inside of you is unbearable. The atmosphere is incredible, and the streets are so crowded and so full of life and happiness. Everyone is happy to be here, and so are you.

You find your way to the Paddock Club, which thankfully Pascale got you an access pass to because you would’ve never been able to afford this. As you wait for the race to start, you keep looking around trying to find familiar faces and wondering what Charles is doing right now.

The sun was shining brilliantly over Monte Carlo, its rays dancing off the azure waters of the Mediterranean as one of the most anticipated events of the year, the Monaco Grand Prix, is about to begin. Your heart is racing almost as fast as the cars that would soon tear through the narrow, winding streets.

Charles was starting from P1. Your Charles, the pride of Monaco. His Ferrari sat poised and ready, a crimson beast waiting to be unleashed. As you watch the big screen showing the last preparations for the race, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. You are already so proud of him.

Soon the camera pans over the cars lined up at the starting line showing the drivers walking to their vehicles. He climbs into the car, and the mechanics begin their final checks. The roar of the engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision. The grid is set, and the lights above the starting line begin their countdown.

Red. Red. Red. Green.

The cars surge forward, a blur of colour and sound. Charles holds his position, deftly navigating the treacherous streets with the skill and grace of a dancer. Every corner, every straight, he is in perfect harmony with his car.

From the paddock, you watch every moment with bated breath. Your fingers are crossed, your heart lodged in your throat. Lap after lap, he maintains his lead, his driving a masterclass of control and speed. The crowds roar, the tension palpable as the race unfolds.

As the laps dwindle down, you find yourself almost unable to watch. He is so close, so close to his biggest dream. The pit stops have gone flawlessly, the strategy executed to perfection. But Monaco was a track where anything can happen, and the slightest mistake can spell disaster.

Then, with a grace that seems almost effortless, Charles navigates the final corner and speeds down the straight towards the finish line. The checkered flag waves and the crowd erupts into a frenzy. He has done it. He won the Monaco Grand Prix.

Tears of joy stream down your face as you watch him cross the finish line, arms raised in triumph. The team explodes into celebration around you, but all you can see is Charles. He climbs out of the car, drenched in sweat and triumph, and your eyes meet across the chaos.

His gaze pierces through you, sending a shiver down your spine. And then, he smiles. That dazzling smile that has captured the hearts of millions. And in that moment, you know that your heart belongs to him, forever.

***

It's been hours since the race ended. After all the interviews, the podium, the celebration, Charles was finally able to get some free time for himself. His eyes are roaming the room, looking for a familiar face, but he can't find you anywhere. Maybe you left without saying goodbye. He feels disappointed. He wanted to see you and to hug you.

The door opens and someone enters the room. Charles doesn't bother to look up. He is too busy feeling sorry for himself. But then your voice is what catches his attention. "Hi, stranger."

He looks up, and there you are, standing in the doorway. He is not dreaming. You are here, in Monaco, and he has just won the race. Life couldn't get any better than this.

"Hi, Y/N." He stands up and walks towards you.

You are speechless. Seeing him winning the race made you so emotional that you had tears in your eyes. Now, standing in front of him, all those feelings come rushing back. "Congratulations on your win. I'm so proud of you." You say as he pulls you in a tight hug. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You close your eyes and breathe him in, his familiar scent surrounding you.

"Thank you. I'm so happy that you're here." His voice is muffled against your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking up into his warm, brown eyes. There is something in the way he is looking at you that makes your heart race. You have never felt more alive, more connected, than in this moment. You feel as if he can see into your very soul, and the intensity of his gaze takes your breath away.

"Me too." You say softly, your voice barely a whisper. He leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into the moment.

Just as you're about to kiss him, he pulls back with a chuckle as if he only now realises that you are in a room full of people. You look around and see his family and the Ferrari employees as well as the security guards who are probably watching the two of you like hawks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise..." He begins, his cheeks flushed.

"It's okay." You say, taking a step back and running a hand through your hair. "I didn't realise either."

The room falls silent, and you can't help but wonder if everyone heard your exchange. You feel your face flush, and you turn away, avoiding Charles' gaze.

"We should go somewhere more private." He whispers in your ear, making you blush. You nod and follow him out of the room. The security guards let the two of you pass, and Charles leads you down a quiet hallway. You follow him in silence, your mind racing. You can't believe what just happened.

When you reach a secluded area, Charles turns to face you, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there."

"You didn't. I just...I was surprised."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?" He looks nervous, and it makes you smile.

"Good surprised. Very good."

"I'm glad." He reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as you continue to make your way outside. "I've missed you so much, Y/N."

You smile up at him, feeling your heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too, Charlie. More than you can imagine."

As you step out into the warm Monaco air, you can't help but think how lucky you are to be here, with him. He is the best friend anyone could ever have, and you feel honoured that he considers you his best friend. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes yours in return. You know that, whatever happens next, you will always have each other.

Charles brings the two of you to a halt next to where his bicycle is stalled. "I totally forgot I came here by bike." He says, shaking his head. "Do you wanna come with me, or do you prefer to take a taxi?"

"No, no. I'll come with you." You don't want to spend a single minute away from him.

He smiles at you and nods. He climbs on the bike and motions for you to sit on the top tube as his bike doesn't have a rear rack. You hop on the top tube and wrap your arms around his handlebar for balance. "Jesus Christ, this feels dangerous."

"Just trust me." He says, a twinkle in his eye as he closes his arms around you to grab a hold of the handlebars.

"You sure we'll both fit on the bike?" You ask nervously.

"Of course, we'll fit. Come on." He starts pedalling and soon the two of you are zipping through the streets of Monaco, the sun setting in the distance.

You lean against him, feeling the warmth of his body, and you close your eyes. For the first time in years, you feel completely and utterly content. As the two of you ride through the streets of Monaco, his arms basically wrapped around you, you can't help but think that this is what happiness feels like.

"Charlie, where are we going?"

"Home." He says it so casually as if it's obvious that you belong there too.

You stay silent for the rest of the journey. You just want to enjoy the moment, savour the feeling of his body against yours. When you finally arrive at his apartment, the sun has almost disappeared from the horizon, leaving behind a pink and orange sky.

"Here we are." Charles says as he helps you off the bike. You can't help but notice how his hand lingers on yours, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. After a brief loss of contact to lock his bike, his fingers intertwine with yours and he guides you inside the apartment complex.

The elevator ride is silent, but it's not awkward. It's a comfortable silence, the kind you only share with your best friend. When the elevator doors open, Charles leads you down the hallway to his apartment, his hand still holding yours.

When he unlocks the door and ushers you inside, the first thing you notice is how big the apartment is. It's luxurious, just like he is, and you can't help but be a little jealous. He leads you into the kitchen, which is modern and well-equipped. "Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just some water, please." You say, your mouth suddenly dry. He nods and busies himself at the sink. You take the opportunity to look around, taking in the sleek furniture and artwork adorning the walls.

When Charles returns with the glass of water, he can't help but notice the awe on your face. "What is it?"

"It's just...this place is so fancy. It's amazing."

He smiles, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Well, I'm glad you like it. Maybe I could give you a tour later."

"That would be great." You can't hide the excitement in your voice. You take the glass of water from him and sip it slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

Charles walks over to the living room and you follow him like a lost puppy. It's when your eyes fall on the black grand piano that you gasp. "Wow, you have a grand piano!"

He turns around, a grin on his face. "Yeah, I love to play the piano. It's a good way to relax after a long day."

"Can you play me something?" You ask, unable to hide your excitement.

"Sure. What do you want me to play?"

"Anything. Surprise me." You say, smiling at him.

He walks over to the piano and sits down on the stool before he pats the empty space beside him. "Come, sit next to me."

You make your way over to him and sit down, feeling a little nervous. He begins to play, his fingers dancing across the keys. The melody is beautiful and melancholic, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You're completely mesmerised by him, by the way his fingers move so gracefully, by the look of concentration on his face.

As the music swells around you, you feel a sense of calmness washing over you. This is what you've been missing, what you've needed all this time. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the music.

"What is this song called?" You ask, your eyes still closed.

"I don't know." He whispers. "I made it up."

"You're so talented, Charles." You say, unable to hide the admiration in your voice.

He turns his head slightly and his lips brush against your forehead. "Thank you."

You open your eyes and look at him, the emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. You can't help but feel as if the world has stopped spinning and that it's only the two of you in the universe, in this moment.

He leans closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "Y/N, can I kiss you?"

You nod, unable to speak, and he closes the distance between you. The world around you fades into nothingness as his lips brush against yours. It's soft at first, tentative as if testing the waters of this new, uncharted territory. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, more urgent. His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair.

The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of familiarity and excitement. You can feel the years of friendship and unspoken longing in every touch, every movement. It's as if the floodgates have finally opened, and all the emotions you had both kept hidden come rushing out.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads rest against each other’s. The room is silent except for the sound of your rapid breathing and the faint echo of the last note Charles had played.

"That was..." You begin, searching for the right word.

"Yeah." Charles smiles, a blush rising to his cheeks. "That was incredible."

You laugh softly, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you close, the warmth of his body soothing you. You sit there in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

"Hey, are you tired?" he asks.

"No, just relaxed."

"Okay. Well, I have a question for you."

"Ask away."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me."

Your eyes fly open, and your heart stops. He is looking at you, his expression serious. You swallow hard and try to think of an answer. But your brain doesn't cooperate, and you can't speak.

"W-what are you talking about?" You stutter.

"I'm talking about the fact that you are in love with me."

"No, I'm not. Why would you think that?"

"Because it's obvious."

"Oh."

"You look shocked whenever I flirt with you and after that so happy. It's the same look I have when I'm thinking about you." You can't believe what he is saying. Does he really mean it? Or is he just playing with your emotions? "Why didn't you ever tell me? Because of my job?"

"No, it's not that. I just...I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're the most important person in my life, and I didn't want to lose you."

"Oh, baby. You will never lose me."

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

He cups your face with his hands and leans in again. Your eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch yours. The kiss is slow and gentle. His lips are soft and taste like mint. You feel a tingle in your stomach, and you can't help but sigh. His tongue darts out and caresses your lips. You open your mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. Your tongues tangle together, and the kiss becomes more passionate. When you finally pull apart again, you are breathing heavily. He smiles and strokes your cheek.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?"

"Charles..."

"No, it's true. And you deserve to be told how beautiful you are every day."

"Oh, Charles."

He pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple. You lean against his chest and breathe in his scent. It feels so right to be here with him. After all these years, you finally feel like you belong.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks.

"About the fact that I don't wanna go home."

"Who said you have to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stay the night. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay."

He stands up and takes your hand. You follow him down the hallway and into his bedroom before he sits you down on the bed. He sits down next to you and strokes your cheek. You look into his eyes and see the same desire that you feel. You lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and his tongue feels amazing. Your body is tingling, and you can't get enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He pulls you closer and kisses you passionately. Your bodies are pressed together, and you can feel his arousal. You moan and rub your body against his. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. His eyes are dark with lust, and his pupils are dilated.

"Mhm, Y/N. You're driving me crazy." He pulls you into his lap and kisses you again. His hands roam your body, and you arch your back. He slips his hand under your shirt and cups your breast. You gasp and close your eyes. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh God." You moan.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. It feels so good."

He keeps massaging your breasts while kissing your neck. You grind your hips against him, and he groans. You can feel his erection, and it turns you on even more. He moves his hand to your other breast and starts massaging it.

He pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you. His hands move under your shirt, and he pulls it off. You arch your back and expose your breasts. He licks his lips and leans down to kiss your nipples. He sucks on one and flicks his tongue over the other. You moan and dig your nails into his back.

He moves his hand down to your pants and starts undoing the button. He pulls them down, along with your panties, and tosses them aside. He looks at your naked body and smiles.

"You're so beautiful."

He leans down and kisses you. His tongue darts out, and he runs it over your lips. You part your lips and let him inside. He explores your mouth and moans.

"Mhm, I want you."

"Then take me." You say.

He pulls his shirt off and throws it aside. He undoes his pants and pushes them down. He kneels between your legs and looks at you. You can see his erection through his boxers. You bite your lip and reach out. You run your hand over his bulge and feel the heat. He groans and closes his eyes.

"Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I want you so bad."

"Then take me."

He quickly pulls his boxers down before he grabs your hips and pushes you further onto the bed. He lies down on top of you and kisses you. His erection rubs against your core, making you gasp.

"God, you're so wet." He moves his hand between your legs and strokes your clit. You moan and buck your hips. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in. You gasp and close your eyes. His cock fills you up completely, and you feel complete.

He starts moving slowly, and you cling to him. He kisses you deeply and groans. He moves faster, and you cry out. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back.

"Yes, Charles. Right there. Please."

He pounds into you harder, and you feel yourself approaching the edge. You never had sex that felt this right.

"I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, baby."

You scream his name and climax. Your body trembles, and you shudder. He moans and buries his face in your neck. You feel his release, and he collapses on top of you.

"God, Y/N. That was amazing."

"It was."

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms. You snuggle against his chest, and he kisses your forehead.

"So, this is where we've been heading since day one, huh?" You chuckle.

"Well, yeah. I just didn't expect it to take twenty years."

"Yeah, me neither."

"And I also thought we'd be more cautious about it." Charles laughs realising he completely forgot to use a condom.

"I don't know, I just didn't care."

"Yeah, me neither."

You kiss his cheek and rest your head on his chest.

"Charles?"

"Hm?"

"Will we be able to make this work? I mean, with our lives and everything?"

"We'll figure it out. I'm not letting you go."

"Good."

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat. He is holding you tight, and you can't imagine being anywhere else. You kiss his chest and slowly drift off to sleep in his arms.

[pradaax]

Twisted

Song Mingi x Reader 18+

What could possibly go wrong with sleeping with your boss’ son?

Your red bottoms clacking as you entered the company, the stares didn't go unnoticed to you. You could say you always did enjoy a bit of attention.

You passed by the security and into the elevator. The doors opened showing the hallway that leads to the office of the man you weren't happy about seeing.

You didn't bother knocking and entered the office, there he was in the chair with his unbuttoned shirt, a drink in his hand and a girl in her bra on the desk "Why are you here?" He clicked his tongue placing his drink down.

"Scram." You demanded, your eyes bruised on the girl who started to pick up her clothes from the floor and ran out the office. You strolled up to the him. "Did he send you?"

You ignored him, your eyes running around the office room that smelt like fresh sex. A disgust look took over your face when your eyes landed on him.

You worked for Mr Song, Mingi’s father. You were loyal to him, he was your role model and you were proud to work for a hard working man who worked so hard to build a company from nothing to where it was now. A big corporation in Seoul.

Mr Song was a gentleman but his son was a totally womaniser though that wasn't the only reason why you loathed him it was also the fact that whatever his father built would come down to the ground if Mingi stayed like this.

It was a well known fact that he would always bring in different women to the office almost everyday but no one dared to say anything because the man also had anger issues.

"You need to put a stop to this." You warned throwing the files you were holding on the oak brown desk. "The sales have dropped by 15% and Park’s corporation is no longer wanting to partner." He lazily opened one of the files, scanning it before looking back up you since you were still standing.

The hatred feeling between you two was mutual, you both didn't like each other or even handle being in each other's presence. Mingi didn't like the fact that his own father trusted you more than him or how he treated you as if you meant something more than him.

"This has nothing to do with me, numbers dropped before I was in charge." Mingi’s voice hit your ears and you almost wanted to laugh at the stupid mark he made.

“Stop fooling around, you’re the CEO of Song corporation now. Grow up, Mingi.” Your statement made him poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue and raise a brow. He stood up stepping towards you.

“You have some confidence on you, walking in here telling me what to do and what not. I don’t know if you have been sucking my father’s dick but-”

The slap that had just landed on his face cut him off. He scoffed titling his head, his eyes not leaving yours as your ones danced between his. Mingi had crossed the line. “Don’t ever say such sick things.”

You turned to leave but the sudden grip on your wrist span you around. Your body was pressed against his one. You stared up at the taller male, before you had the chance to say something his slender fingers wrapped around your throat pushing you back to the couch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your eyes widen as you fell on the couch, his fingers only tightening. Mingi leaned over, he was only inches away from your face. Anger in his eyes and the smell of whiskey was lingering around your nose.

“Should I be the last face you see?” A creepy smile making its way to his face. His eyes growing as your face turned red, he was crashing your windpipe. Your hands wrapped around his wrist trying to loosen his grip but that didn’t work and you took the opportunity to dig your nails into his neck too.

“G-Go to hell.” You managed to spit out, his eyes only darkening more. A wince leaving his mouth when your nails dag deeper.

The door opening caught both of your attention. San strolled in with a frown on his face and his hands in his pockets. “Did I walk in at the right or wrong time?”

Mingi’s grip loosened and he stood straight rubbing his neck. You coughed gasping for air, your throat completely dry.

“I won’t even ask.” San informed, you glared at the taller man in the room before standing up and heading to the door. “Yes, go run to Mr Song.” Mingi’s voice was heard before you slammed the large wooden door shut.

You pulled out the ringing phone and it was Mr Song. You put it on your ear hearing his cheerful voice.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“He’s out of control, Mr Song. Sales have dropped by 15% and the Parks no longer want to partner.”

“I will take care of him, go back to see him in a few days.”

-

You took a deep breath before opening the large doors. It was night and no one was in the company besides some security who let you know that Mingi was still in.

The office was dim and the chair was facing the city lights outside the large window. Mingi didn’t bother turning around. Your heels clacking in the silent room.

You bite your lip, this was a bit unusual. “Mingi?” He didn’t answer but you knew he was there, the chair might’ve had a long backrest but you could still see the man’s hair. You flicked the lamp near him on. You frowned moving even closer trying to see his face.

You almost gasped when his features came in sight. His lip was busted, a cut on his eyebrow and cheek and a light bruise around his eye. Mingi’s attention went on yours. He had a drink in his hand that he had now placed down and a bloody handkerchief.

“What happened to you?” You were now in front of him, looking down with concern drawn over your face. Your hand reaching out to the first aid kit next to him. You quickly pulled out wipes, you dapped it on the cut on his cheek making him wince. “Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Why would you get into a fight? The press conference is in a few days!” You stated purposely pressing hard on his cut. “He scratched my car, what did he expect?”

Your mouth almost fell open at the stupid excuse to start a fight. “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” You glared at him, he let out a small laugh. It was your first time seeing him genuinely laugh which made him bloom. “Read my mind.”

You started to clean the cut on his lip, the silence was comfortable for some reason. You felt his stare on you but you ignored that and continued with your task though shortly Mingi gently grabbed your wrist pushing your hand away.

Your eyes met and it felt like he had casted a spell on you. You didn’t realise how close you really were to him yet you didn’t move.

“If you stay that close, I’m going to kiss you.” He softly whispered, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you because he started leaning closer you stayed still like you were waiting for your lips to connect with his plump ones.

Mingi grabbed the back of your head closing the gap between you two. The kiss was anything but sweet. The taste of metallic coming in your mouth due to the cut on his lip but that didn’t bother you.

With his free hand he wrapped it around your waist pulling you down on his lap. You could feel his bludge growing by the second under you. Your hands wrapped around his dark hair, lightly tugging on it as you started to sway your hips making him let out a groan. Mingi pulled away latching his mouth on your neck, planting soft kisses down your chest as he took your blazer off and pulled your dress down revealing your hard nipples.

His thumb teasingly circled around your nipple causing a moan to escape. He grabbed your tit and his warm tongue danced around the nipple before sucking it.

“Oh god.” You murmured tugging more on his hair, you haven’t felt anything like this in a while. You felt the wetness between your legs and wanted more.

You stood up dropping to your knees and unbuttoned his pants, with his help they were pulled down. You bit your lip seeing how big he really is.

You grabbed his length in your hand and Mingi had a fistful of your hair pushing your head down. “Spit on it.” He ordered and you did so but he took that chance to shove himself down your throat.

You started to bob your head, your mouth fully stuffed with his cock. “Taking it like a good girl.” He smirked when you looked up at his face, your cheeks were rosy, your brows pinched together and your hair was messy since he was still tugging on it.

Mingi grabs your arms pulling you up in a second, he stood up and pushed you down on his desk. He lifted your dress up and ripped your stockings.

He moved your panties to the side as he leaned over you. “So wet for me.” He whispered biting your neck. Mingi took out a condom from his drawer and put it on after ripping off the package.

“Don’t flatter yoursel-” A whimper cut you off when he positioned himself to your entrance and with no warning slammed into you, stretching you out.

“F-Fuck you.” You mumbled digging your nails into his shoulders, his pace was nowhere near gentle. “I’m already doing the fucking, doll.” Mingi licked your lips, grinning hard seeing the mess you were and how you barely were able to form words.

“I think I like you better when you’re moaning more than talking.” He purred against your neck, his thrusts not dying down.

He kept abusing your insides over and over. His hands were running down your body. He stood straight placing your leg on his shoulder and holding onto your hips keeping you in place as he kept slamming into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“You have a pretty cunt for such a horrible bitch.” He groaned watching how his length was disappearing inside you.

You pulled out the middle finger at him, you felt light headed from all the pleasure and the heat rushed through your body. You arched your back when he started to rub your swollen clit.

With one thrust he pushed himself so deep inside you, both of your hips now touching. No one’s ever been that deep and you loved it. Your legs twitched and you released over his cock. He jerked inside you with a groan you knew he was done.

He pulled out throwing the condom in the trash under his desk. Mingi fixed himself up, you were still on the desk unable to move. “Did I fuck you that good?” He smiled proud of himself making you roll your eyes.

He carried you making your arms wrap around his neck. Mingi gently placed you on the couch and covered you with the blanket. You felt sleep taking over you when he started to play with your hair.

“I didn’t get into a fight. I was jumped by Mr Song’s guards. Funny how my father shows his love, right?”

Twisted

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Dark!Coriolanus, Delulu!Coriolanus, StepDaddy!Coriolanus, DaddyCoriolanus

You've known Coriolanus Snow ever since you were kids. Your fathers were serving in the war together, in 12, and you both lived in the same building. Hell, he was the one you ran to when an officer came to your door with the heartbreaking news that your father was killed deep in the woods of District 12 by rebels alongside General Crassus Snow.

Coriolanus’ father.

Coriolanus, despite being a young orphan boy, hugged you and tried to give you comfort. He told you that he'd be your best friend forever.

God, you both were 8 when that happened.

Fast forward 13 years and now, at age 21, you’re finding yourself running to his door once again over another life change.

This time though, you’re going to him to make an announcement. An announcement that would change your friendship. One that he'd most likely view as scandalous.

But you had to tell him before he found out from gossip.

When the elevator doors dinged open, you stepped out onto the 12th floor. Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you and the penthouse door.

You prayed that he wouldn't push you away after your announcement.

He was the only real friend you had left after Sejanus' death. It'll kill you if Coryo cuts ties with you because of the situation you're in.

Even though you were afraid of his reaction to your news, you balled your hand up into a fist and quickly knocked on the door. God, you were so nervous to see him. Maybe you should just tell him your news in the doorway and then run off in shame?

Yea, that's what you should do. No way in hell is Coriolanus Snow, an assistant game maker to Dr. Gaul and a University student only a year away from graduating with degrees in both military strategies and political science, going to stick by your side once you tell him your scandalous news. What you've got to tell him is a big no no in proper Capitol society.

God, he'll probably just call you a whore and turn you away once he hears it.

The door opened, revealing Coriolanus standing in the doorway. A wide smile cracked his face open as his icy blue eyes took in your presence. “Darling, I wasn't expecting a visit from you today.” Reaching for your hand, he said, “Come in, we'll have tea with Grandma'am.”

You snatched your hand away from him before his long fingers could grasp it. Your eyes fell to study his floor shines (damn, you never realize how big his shoes- well his feet, were til now. Like damn…), as you told him, “I can't stay for tea. I only came by to tell you something; then leave.”

“Surely you can come inside and sit with me. Grandma’am adores you and whatever you have to tell me, you can do it while we have tea.”

“Coryo, I can't.” You heavily sighed.

Coriolanus furrowed his brows, your words making him concerned. You've never declined the invite to come in and have tea before. Usually you'd just walk on in, shoulders brushing by his, whenever you came over. The fact that you refused to move an inch, never made any motion to come inside, concerned him.

Instantly, he was placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and tilting your chin up with his knuckles. Your worried eyes meet his baby blues. Baby blues that searched the windows of your soul for answers on why you were acting so unlike yourself.

Even tho he'd never admit it, Coriolanus was worried. The way you were acting was so unlike you; it scared him.“Y/N, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?”

“I'm pregnant.” You told your best friend, breath shaky, afraid that he'd view you with the same stigma and shame that Capitol citizens viewed unwed mothers with.

You're pregnant?

Pregnant!

Coriolanus couldn't believe his ears. How did this happen? Okay, he knows how it happened. But he just didn't know that you were fucking somebody.

How could have Coriolanus missed the fact that you were seeing somebody; fucking somebody? Weren't people so disgustingly happy and flighty when they were young and in love? When they were having their innocence stripped away?

And then another thought struck him. One that made his blood boil. You had no reason to tell him that you were knocked up (since in the Capitol accidental unwed pregnancies always led to quick weddings) unless whoever got you in trouble abandoned you; forsaken and tricked you.

Had betrayed you.

And now you need your Coryo to fix everything; make everything all better.

“Who do I need to threaten?” The platinum blonde asked you, dead ass, and it took you by surprise.

You were expecting Coryo to be upset with you, disgusted even, but you weren't expecting him to ask who the baby daddy was and to offer to threaten them. Yea…That took you off guard.

“Coryo, you don't need to do that.”

“Of course I need to do that.” Coriolanus simply said. He rubbed your shoulders in a comforting manner while telling you, “Whoever got you into your delicate condition buttered you up with lies only to use you and turn their back on you. They betrayed you; broke your heart and I'm going to make them pay.”

“Coriolanus, no.” You shook your head. “You're not going to go hunting down my ex to maim him because he's not ready to be tied down.”

“Yes, I'm going to do exactly that because that scoundrel knocked you up and ran away from his responsibilities. He's living his life, without any second thoughts of you, while you're at risk of social damnation.”

“And here I thought you'd send me away and call me a whore, but instead you want to confront Livinius.” You scoffed incredulously.

“Livinius? As in Livia Cardew’s older brother, Livinius Cardew?” Coriolanus asked, his baritone full of disgust, as his icy blue eyes narrowed and turned cold.

Oh shit…did you just accidentally tell Coryo that Vinny’s the one that knocked you up? Yea…you did…

“I'm going to kill him.” Coryo swore as steam literally came out of his ears. He was so mad it wasn't even funny.

Hoping to calm him down, you placed your hands on his chest. “Coryo, please don't. Just leave it alone.”

Locking his eyes with yours, Coryo asked, “Do you love him?”

Did you love Livinius? No, you didn't. You only went out with him because your mother pushed you to. Your mother who had disowned you once you told her that you're pregnant. You did care about Vinny tho, even if you didn't love him.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't love him, but I was with him long enough to care.”

Coriolanus was relieved that you didn't love Livinius, but he thought you were foolish for still caring about him. He didn't want you to feel worse than you did, so he gave you the well meaning advice of, “Well, stop caring about him because he surely doesn't care about you.”

You were feeling a bit overwhelmed emotionally (blame it on the hormones) so you told your best friend, “Thank you for not turning me away, but I think I better go now.”

“I know how much of a bitch Helenium can be. Where are you staying?”

“Coryo…” You heavily sighed, not wanting to get into things with him about your mother kicking you out and disowning you.

“Jesus, she kicked you out, didn't she?” Coriolanus concluded with bitterness in his voice.

“Yea.” You confirmed with a nod. “I've been staying at a hotel near the rail station for now. It's just until I can get a job and find an apartment.”

“You're pregnant, Y/N. You don't need to stress about working long hours in retail and finding some shithole flat to stay warm in.” The platinum blonde said, only to push his apartment door open as wide as it'd go. Ushering you in with a large hand on your shoulder, he said, “Come on, you’re staying with me.”

“Coryo, you don't need to put me up. Really, I'm fine staying at the hotel until I figure things out.” You told him, as he closed the door behind you.

Turning you around to look at him, he told you, “I know that I don't need to do anything, but I want you to stay with me because you're my best friend. It's always been my job to protect you; keep you safe, Y/N.”

How could you argue with that? He was only looking out for you. Was only doing what he's always done for you, which was to try and protect you.

You let out a heavy sigh, only to tell him, “Okay, but it'll only be temporary. I promise, I'll figure something out.”

“You don't need to figure something out because I said you're staying with me. And don't worry about the expenses, I'm more than capable of handling it.”

“Okay.” You gave in, knowing fighting your best friend (who was as stubborn as a mule) on livng with him was a losing battle. “But, please, don't tell Grandma’am yet. I can't bare to see her disappointment at me about once she finds out.” You told Coriolanus while letting him usher you out of the entrance hall.

“Okay, we won't tell Grandma’am until you're ready.” Coriolanus agreed to your request before the living room came into view.

“I still can't believe you have a car.” You told Coriolanus as he opened the passanger’s side door of his black luxury sedan for you. The car looked imported, but you weren't sure since you didn't know much about cars. Well, other than how to sit in them that is.

“I told you, darling, I’ve got money now.” Coriolanus told you, a smug smirk painted on his lush lips, before shutting the door and rounding the car to the driver's side. He opened the door and took his seat behind the wheel. “So, do you have a lot of things at the motel?”

“No.” You shook your head as your best friend cranked the car engine to life. “Just a cardboard box of stuff and a couple trash bags of clothes.” You told him as he pulled out of the parking lot behind the Corso apartments.

“You have your clothes in garbage bags!?” Coriolanus exclaimed, giving you a scandalous look. “Little dove, you should've came to me as soon as Helenium kicked you out. I would've moved your things from the 8th floor to the 12th.”

“I didn't come to you right away because my mother gave me enough money to rent a hotel room for a few weeks. I had things under control; I just came over today to tell you about my pregnancy so you wouldn't find out from gossip.”

“Y/N, you don't have things under control. You're living in a one star hotel by the Panem Rail station, you're living out of trash bags, and you're unemployed.”

“Corio-” You began, only for your bestfriend to cut you off with, “Don't, Y/N, don't you dare try to convince me that you're okay because I know you're not.” He switched lanes (without using his blinkers, which is a big no no), while telling you, “You need my help and I'm in the position to give it to you. The Plinths, after losing Sejanus, have made me their heir and are very generous to me and my family.” His icy blue eyes looked between you and the road, only to say, “I'm not that poor boy giving you most of his share of cabbage and broth after letting you sleep over. I'm able to help you; support you the way you need now.”

“I know, but I don't want to be dependent on you.” What you left out was that you didn't want him taking care of a baby that wasn't his problem. He had the world at his fingertips, he didn't need his best friend's scandal holding him back.

“You're not dependent on me, darling. We're bestfriends and I want to help you.” Coriolanus told you while turning a corner and nearly clipping a car.

Oh hell, how did he even pass his driver's test? He drives like a maniac.

Oh, wait a minute, Strabo Plinth probably just paid off the DMV to give Coryo his license.

Not wanting to talk to your bestfriend anymore, you leaned forward and turned on the car’s radio. You fiddled with the tuner until you landed on a station you liked.

The music filled the atmosphere for maybe a minute or so before Coriolanus turned it off. Looking between you and the road, he said, “Look, Y/N, I know how it is to be manipulated and used by someone you love. To give them everything only for it not to be enough; for them to turn on you and betray you.” He took one of his hands off the wheel, only to grab yours and say, “Darling, you're my bestfriend and the only person who's truly ever been by my side genuinely; not because you want to use me for something. You mean a lot to me and I just want to help you because I know how stupid and foolish you feel right now after getting your heart broken by Livinius.”

You just nodded and squeaked out, “Okay.” You really didn't feel like talking about this stuff right now.

And when did Coriolanus become somebody that talked about feelings? For as long as you've known him he always ran away from feelings.

What you didn't know is that Coryo's been harboring a decade-long crush on you. A crush he never acted on because he was afraid of ruining your friendship. Afraid that you'd push him away for being too obsessive (he knows how he can be with his things). So, he just pushed his feelings for you onto the prettiest face he saw (Lucy Gray once he became her mentor). And when he came back to the Capitol, he threw himself into his studies and interning with Dr. Gaul that he only saw you occasionally.

Now he wishes he would've just acted on his feelings for you, then your child would be his. But, he was going to fix everything and make it all better. Starting by getting rid of Livinius Cardew.

“Just let me handle everything for you, my little dove.” Coryo said while pulling into the parking lot of your hotel.

A run down hotel right next to the rail station. The flashing sign reading ‘Vacancy’ looked about to burn out. The tall blue sign next to the hotel reading Motel 6 seemed to mock you as Coryo asked, “What room in this pre-Panem horror's yours?”

“205.” You simply said as he pulled into an empty parking spot.

He cut the cars engine and pocketed his keys, only to hold his hand out. “Key.” Was the simple word he said.

You grabbed your bag from the floor and fished your room keys out. When you dropped them into his palm, he cringed.

They were brass keys, not a key card like the nicer hotels had. Coriolanus didn't say a word, but the disgusted look on his face was enough to know that he didn't approve of your choice of room. Opening his door, he said, “I won't be long, wait here.”.

You just nodded, watching as he got out of the car and went to get your things.

How did you end up here, you don't know. You went to see Coryo earlier to tell him about that baby, you never meant for him to take you in. To drag you to your hotel to get your things. It feels like everything escalated so quickly and you don't know how to feel about it.

After collecting your things, Coryo brought you back to his penthouse and helped you get settled in the guest room.

At first staying with the platinum blonde man was hard, since you felt guilty about him taking care of you, but eventually after a few weeks you got over it.

Truthfully, it was nice spending time with your best friend (that you haven't seen in a while) and his Grandma'am, who you adored. You wish that Tigris, Coryo's cousin, was around more. But since Coryo helped her get a shop and become a stylist for the games, she moved out and into a luxurious condo that was located above her boutique.

But, unknown to you, in the last few weeks you've been living in the Snow penthouse, Coriolanus has been viewing you as more than his best friend. He, for some reason, has started viewing you as his girl. And that baby you're carrying, well…he's starting to view it as his child.

Especially when you came home from an appointment with the first printed scan of the baby. You waited until Grandma'am was tucked in bed before asking Coriolanus if he wanted to see the scan. You were scared he'd say no, but you asked because you wanted to share it with somebody.

You wanted somebody to be your partner during this time, this pregnancy, even if that someone was your best friend.

Was Coriolanus Snow.

Turns out that you had nothing to be scared of since Coryo flashed you a genuine smile and told you that he'd be honored to see the printouts of your first ultrasound scan.

You had a couple of copies, so you gave him one. And when you gave it to him, standing nervously in his room, next to him as he sat at his desk, he smiled and ran his thumb over the tiny bean shaped baby (well fetus) in the scan. “How far along are you, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, never taking his eyes off of the piece of paper in his large hand.

Going over to the edge of his bed and sitting down, you explained, “I’m a few days away from being 9 weeks. Dr. Wellock says I'm due during the summer, in mid-June.”

The platinum blonde ran a hand thru his hair while grumbling, “Of course, baby's due when I'll be at my busiest preparing for the games.”

“I'm sure I’ll be on my feet by then, Coryo. Don't worry about it, the baby's not coming for another 7 months.”

But Coryo had to worry about it. He didn't want to be so busy with helping Dr.Gaul prepare for the games come mid-June that he misses out on the birth of his first born. And in his mind you were carrying his first born. Just staring at that baby, no bigger then a bean, on the print out he was holding made something paternal (and delusional) snap in his head like a rubber band. Now, after seeing that scan printout, he was convinced that your baby was his.

Coriolanus has never fucked you (ever), but he's convinced himself that the baby's his. That you're his perfect, innocent, little dove. His darling rose of a best friend. His baby girl. So that the baby you carry has to be his too.

The little tiny baby had a strong heartbeat and stats according to the print out, so he knew it was his.

His, his, his.

“You and the baby are staying here with me, Y/N. And that's final.”

“Okay.”, You agreed, only because you knew that you'd need help with a newborn. Who were you to turn away your best friend's help. Coriolanus cares deeply for you; wanted to make sure that you and the baby had the things you deserved. You couldn't fault him for that.

If only it was that simple, that innocent.

But it wasn't.

No.

Somewhere in the platinum blonde's head wires got crossed and he blew a fuse. He thinks the baby's his, and since he thinks that he'll never let you or the baby leave his penthouse.

Ever.

Nearly 3 months into living with Coryo, he came home one evening hunched over; coughing. The handkerchief he was coughing into was stained with blood. He staggered to his room, ignoring the startled cries and pleas from you and Grandma'am.

Turning to the worried old woman, dressed in her jewels and bright tunic, you assured her, “I’ll go check on Coryo.”

“Oh, should I call that maid, the Plinth woman, to put on a pot of tea for our Coriolanus?” Grandma'am asked as you rose from your seat.

When will Grandma’am realize that Ma Plinth (who lives on the 11th floor) isn't the maid? Ma Plinth just happens to be the mother of your late friend, Sejanus, and is just a warm, kind person who cleans the penthouse a few times a week and spends time with Grandma'am (and watches her when Coryo has to go somewhere for a long period of time or when you have appointments). Is Grandma’am’s memory, her senses fading that quickly? You know she can be a bit…much, sometimes- but still, is her memory getting worse?

“No.” You shook your head. Lightly patting her hand, you said, “I'll put some on if he wants it.”

Grandma'am just nodded, watching you as you left the main room and went down the hall towards Coriolanus’ room.

You knocked once on his bedroom door before opening it and peeking your head inside. “Coryo, are you okay?” You asked, seeing that he was sprawled out on his side, nearly falling over the edge of the bed, while bloodily hacking into his handkerchief.

Looking up at you, icy blue eyes full of pain, he croaked, “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

You didn't know if you believed him or not. He didn't look like he'd be fine. Sighing, you entered the room and went over to him. “What’s wrong, Coriolanus?” You asked, getting into the bed with him and pushing a stray sweaty curl that got loose from its slick back style, away from his face.

“Nothing, just suppose it's something I drank.

“Something you drank?”

“I had tea with Livinius, after my work with Dr. Gaul today, to speak with him about you and the baby. The tea must've been bad because he dropped dead at the tea room and I'm sick.”

“Coriolanus, what did you do?” You asked, knowing deep down that bad tea doesn't kill people and make them jack up blood. That your best friend had a hand in whatever happened.

“I didn't do anything, darling.” Denied the platinum blonde, clutching his handkerchief as he welt blood tickling the back of his throat.

“Don't lie to me, Coryo. Please, as my best friend you owe me the truth.”

Coryo let out a string of loud, bloody coughs; staining his handkerchief and soaking it crimson. Lifting his head up off his pillow and looking at you from over his shoulder he told you, “I killed him for us and the baby.”

“What? Why?” You gasped, eyes wide, searching for answers.

“Livinius offered to give me money for you to get rid of our mistake, before you got too far along. I wasn't going to let him get away with that, so I poisoned him.” Coriolanus told you, body wracked with uncontrollable coughs. Coughs that made him spit up thick spools of blood.

“Coryo, are you insane? Just because he wanted me to get an abortion doesn't mean you had to poison him.”

“He was dangerous to us, little dove. He heard you moved in with me and invited me out for tea to discuss your condition and I wasn't going to let him threaten our baby and get away with it.”

You blinked as you took in his words. Our baby. Our baby as in his and your baby. Not your baby, but ours. He considered your baby his despite the fact that you've never fucked him, ever, in your entire life.

What the hell's wrong with him? Has he lost it? Was he delusional?

What the hell?

“Just hold me, baby. Please, just hold me.” Coryo asked between bloody coughs that had him gagging in pain.

You were beyond shocked. Your best friend had murdered your ex with poison and had inadvertently poisoned himself to the point that he's currently knocking on heaven’s door right now. And all because he had some delusion that your baby, your baby that was fathered by the man that he just murdered, was his.

How do you deal with this? Is there any way to deal with this?

Sighing, you decided to give into Coryo's request. He killed your ex, Vinny, to keep the baby safe. A baby he’s convinced is his. But, he did it with good intentions.

They say hell is paved with good intentions.

So…

You held him as his body shook and he coughed up a concerning amount of blood. He was always there for you, the least you could do was be here for Coriolanus. His baby blues had so much pain swimming in them. You couldn't imagine how bad he felt right now as his body was fighting itself.

“You're not going to die, are you, Coryo?” You asked, afraid that you'd lose him because of a rash decision he made.

“No.” Coryo weakly shook his head. Slowly turning around, so that he could comfortably rest his head on your chest, he told you, “I'm partially immune to this poison; I'll just be sick for a few days. He cleared his throat, fighting off a cough, and placed his hand on your belly. “You're slowly starting to get a tiny bump.” His baritone was full of pride as he told you, “I think we should stop hiding from the stigma of being unwed parents and just tell Grandma'am that she's going to be a Great-Grandma’am.”

“She's going to insist that we get married, Coryo.” You pointed out, hoping that he'd drop the notion of telling Grandma’am. You're certain that he's not ready to settle down yet.

If he was, wouldn't he have somebody by now?

Little did you know that he did have somebody.

He has you.

And that's why, in between coughing up blood, he told you, “I can convince Grandma’am that we'll have to wait until the baby’s born to have the wedding, so that you’ll be able to fit into your dress and drink celebratory champagne at the reception.”

And those words cemented that fact that your best friend was delusional. He didn't just want to raise your baby as his own, but wanted to marry you too.

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he told you, “Since we're telling Grandma'am about the baby as soon as I'm feeling well enough to get out of bed, we can end our charade of chastity. You can finally share my bed, my darling.”

Coryo smirked, thinking that his words were charming, before hacking and soaking his already stained handkerchief with more crimson liquid.

With the metallic smell of blood and the sweet smell of roses mingling in the room, you found yourself giving into Coriolanus' delusions. You agreed to tell Grandma'am about the baby and to move your things into his bedroom.

Because what choice did you have? Coriolanus killed to keep you and the baby safe. It was clear to you that he'd do anything for you and your child.

At least he'd be a devoted husband and father, even if he’s a bit delusional.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @staylowessafe

[weird-is-life]

Please be careful

Pairing: Hockey!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James gets injured during one of his hockey games and he's desperate to see you

Warnings: angsty, fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n, mentions of concussion, hospitals...

Words: 0.9k

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

It was supposed to be a normal, regular hockey game with James as the captain for the game. And you,  unfortunately, couldn't attend it, so you were hoping for a happy phone call from James.

Instead, you get a phone call from Remus and you instantly know, that something is wrong.

But you don't expect it to be that bad. Apparently, James got slammed into the boards by another player. Though, that's not unusual for hockey games, you've seen James get boarded plenty of times.

But James's helmet was not tightened properly and as he got pushed into the boards, it slipped off of his head, meaning James bumped his head hard.

James is stable, he has a pretty bad concussion and keeps loosing his consciousness, but he is stable.

You try not to panic, as you listen to Remus explain. But it's hard not to. You don't know, what you'd do If something happened to him.

You will those scary, irrational thoughts away and rush to the hospital. When you get there, Remus is waiting for you outside.

You immediately go give him a tight hug.

"How's he?" you ask with a worry, while you quickly follow him towards James's door.

"He's okay, still disoriented. But okay,  he's got some painkillers for the headache, so keeps falling asleep," Remus reassures you, he would feel the same panic, you feel right now, if it wasn't for Sirius being by his side the whole time.

"He's been constantly asking for you, you know," Remus adds with a smile, "like every single time he wakes up, it's your name he says first."

"Really?" you smile at him back, it lifts your mood up a little, hearing that James's been asking for you.

"Yeah, really. Now c'mon, let's go inside. I know, there's at least one person in there that can't wait to see you," Remus means James, but also Sirius.

Sirius may seem like he's a really tough guy, when in fact he is actually the biggest softie. He instantly goes to hug you, too.

Another fact about Sirius is that, he gives bone-crushing hugs, that leave you almost aching. You can't say you hate them, they are comforting. So his tight hug is exactly, what you need, to calm your racing heart completely.

When you pull away, your gaze lands on James's lying figure. He looks almost the same as he usually does sleeping, except for the quite big gash over his forehead.

You go sit in the chair next to his bed. "Hi, Jamie," you whisper, as you take his hand into both of yours," you scared the shit out of me."

You chuckle quietly and wipe away, the one tear that escapes from your eye. You lift James hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

The guys leave you alone with James to go get something to eat, which you are thankful for. Because you can finally get a minute only just for yourself to breath it all through.

With your eyes closed as you take one big breath in after another, you don't notice James's eyelids opening.

That cheeky bastard, stays quiet for a few minutes, just looking at you and smiling happily to himself. He's over the moon, that you are finally there.

"H-hi, my love," he croaks out with a groggy voice from the sleep.

Your eyes shoot open, widening when you see him smiling at you," James!"

"You're awake...How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Is your head spinning?Do you need some more painkiller...-?" you stress, but James interrupts you.

"Lovely....-" he starts, but you ignore it.

"Or-or should I go get some nurse?" you ask him nervously, already getting up to leave.

"Y/N," he says your name to finally get your attention.

"Yeah, Jamie?"

"Just breath, yeah?" he squeezes your hand, " I'm perfectly okay, now that you're hear." He knows, he must have scared you pretty badly. I mean, he was a bit scared himself to be honest.

You do as he tells you and make your worrying stop," a-are you sure, you don't need anything?"

"Actually, there's one thing," he says, cheeky smile already painting his bruised handsome face.

"Anything...."

"I could really, really use a hug from my best girl, right now," you hesitate for a second, not wanting to hurt him any more, then he already is.

But James has none of it, he pulls you by your hands towards him, basically pulling you into his lap.

"James!" you giggle at his action, but finally close to him, you give in. You tightly embrace him, hiding your face into his chest.

"I thought, we'd agreed, that no injuries for you," you mumble into his chest. Your heart still goes fast from the worry and you're pretty sure that James knows, because his hold on you tightens a bit.

"I know, I'm sorry pretty. I'm so sorry, I scared you," James mumbles back and kisses you on the top of your head. He shouldn't have done that, because his head starts to spin from bending down to kiss you. He doesn't tell you that, though.

"It's okay, I know it wasn't your fault. But please be more careful next time?" you ask innocently, rubbing your hand up and down his back.

"I'll try," James promises.

"Good."

"Good." You stay quiet for a longer moment, just processing that James's really okay. Even if he's a bit bruised.

"I love you, you know that?" James whispers lovingly.

"Of course, I know. I love you, too."

You stay cuddled up on James's bed, until the nurse comes and looks at you two very sternly, which has you climbing off of him and the bed in a matter of seconds.

[ianblogs4]

Imagine if like Shang Qinghua had sensory needs, imagine him being genuinely scared to sleep for the first time in the northern desert because he feels that he can't sleep in another bed that isn't his own, without the pillow that he daydreamed of having after seeing a beast with the fluffiest skin that he had ever seen just trying to destroy An Ding peak and you better believe that Shang Qinghua used ALL of his connections to get just a bit of that skin that was just enough to make a pillow, his comfort pillow.

Imagine Shang Qinghua having THAT favourite inside robe, that he will use for a week and be very sad when it needs to be washed, it has holes, it is tearing and undoing in so much places but Shang Qinghua has had it since he was an inner disciple, just the fact that it still fits him is a miracle itself.

Imagine that Mobei-jun is trying to court Shang Qinghua by gifting him skins to put on his bed and Shang Qinghua being horrorized just by the thought of sleeping with something different in his surroundings, that's just impossible!

After Mobei-jun had seen the secret disgust that his servant and also the guy that he liked had for the skins he decided to change tactics and gift him wool robes, what a horrible idea

Shang Qinghua plainly hated them because they felt wrong in his skin and that overwhelmed him so much, but he felt obliged to use them because he had already rejected one of his king's gifts. But he disliked wool so much that he cried while putting them on and was very teary, with red eyes and a red face while on court until his king "got annoyed" (got worried), went to a side room with him and asked what was wrong and Shang Qinghua just cried, standing there, he ugly cried because everything felt wrong, his whole body felt so wrong, every movement feels very wrong and even being still feels wrong. Mobei-jun freezed, he didn't know what was wrong with this little human that always amazed and confused him, but he realized it wasn't the crying that Shang Qinghua did when he wanted something from him, this was actual crying. Shang Qinghua couldn't even talk to explain to his king what he disliked, what he needed and why he felt just so wrong. Mobei-jun just managed to mutter that he should not worry for court today and should just, go to his room and relax.

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

Mobei-jun was very confused.

He was always confused about his little human, his actions and his entire existence was plainly a mystery to this king, but he did want to know him, because he knew that he was doing something wrong about the human, but Mobei-jun doesn't really know almost anything about humans! His only knowledge was learned on the run and with a lot, a whole lot of errors and confusions in the way. But Mobei-jun did know someone that knew more about humans that they don't eat raw food and they don't like being hitten, and it was Luo Binghe.

-----------

-So you're saying that you want to know about humans?- Luo Binghe said, kind of annoyed that Mobei-jun requested a "very urgent meeting" for this.

-Yes.- Mobei-jun responded, very seriously

-Why... Why do you even want to know about humans?- Luo Binghe just said, already smelling that he will not leave this conference room very enthusiastic about living another day as Mobei-jun's confident or more like dictionary of human terms

-Because Shang Qinghua is not happy with the things I'm gifting him- Mobei responded, with the worry on his face that only Shang Qinghua would've noticed. The fact that Mobei-jun didn't even know what Shang Qinghua would like as a gift and this man solved him like a puzzle so many years ago made him easily frustrated

-Look, the only thing I know about your little human is that he is friends with my Shizun so you shouldn't ask me- Luo Binghe said, just the knowledge that this was, once again, about that little human that likes to say weird things in a weird language with Shen Qingqiu and that for some reason Mobei-jun has tried to wife up for some time now and from the ranting that Luo Binghe didn't even knew if those few words counted as ranting, it was not going well just made him very annoyed

-Then take me to your Shizun- Mobei-jun said, very happy that he was going to get answers

Luo Binghe though that he very much hated that the non-existent romance in between Mobei-jun and his human was bothering him so much even before starting.

--------

-So, what do you want to know about Shang Qinghua?- Shen Qingqiu said behind his fan, while the smell of incense and hot tea burned on his nose

-Everything- Mobei-jun confidentaly said

-Okay I'm... What do you mean by everything?- Shen Qingqiu tried to add some clarification to the question he asked before

-Everything- Mobei-jun repeated

-... Okay let me rephrase that, why do you want to know everything about Shang Qinghua?- Shen Qingqiu added, hoping to have clarified something

-Because the gifts I'm giving him are not making him happy- Mobei-jun admitted

-So, what kind of gifts are we talking about?- Shen Qingqiu said, happy to be going somewhere

-I gifted him skins for his nest and he didn't use them then I gifted him wool robes and he cried when he used them- Mobei-jun said, remembering the sour memory of Shang Qinghua's ugly crying in front of him

-... To start he doesn't have a nest where did you even get that idea? And to follow, why did you even try to give him WOOL robes? Do you know that he hasn't touched wool in more than 7 years because he hates the texture? He cried the last time that he did. You know how hard it was for him to sleep for the first time after he had been kicked out of Caing Qiong because they didn't let him take any of his comfort robes neither his comfort pillow? I had to take those to him because I was so worried! Do you even know what "sensory needs" mean?!- Shen Qingqiu shouted, he was so tired of people not understanding his best friend's needs that he just unleashed everything, every single time that he happily went out of his way to accommodate his friend, something that no one seemed to even try to do even if Shang Qinghua asked them specifically to do so. Shen Qingqiu knew that the discomfort that his soul brother lived in everyday was nothing that only he could disappear by making accommodations every time that Shang Qinghua came to his bamboo house by not putting incense, only serving in fully white silverwear and putting a silk pillow for him to sit. Shen Qingqiu isn't particularly interested in silk but after knowing that his best friend loved it he decided to buy a silk pillow, just for his friend to sit on and not look constantly overwhelmed from having a disliked texture under his legs.

Both Mobei-jun and Luo Binghe, who came running after hearing the screams, were frozen there. Neither had ever seen Shen Qingqiu so enraged, losing that "I'm more than you" mask and just unleashing his rage, the rage that he kept for years after his friend confessed to him that he had sensory needs and he explained the things that made him uncomfortable in his bamboo house.

Shen Qingqiu breathed heavily while sitting again and trying to fix himself up - I'm very sorry, you not knowing how sensory needs work just enrages me because you are doing all of this so wrong you don't even imagine it- Mobei-jun left that day with new knowledge, a list of gifs, scents, types of robes, skins, foods and the general likes of Shang Qinghua.

----------

-Oh! How did you know that I love medlar incense?

-Mm, I just guessed it

---------

-Silk sleep robes? That's so comfortable, I love it. How did you know?

-Mm, I just guessed it

---------

-My king, you have been feeding me noodles for dinner for two weeks, why do you do everything just right?

-Mm, I just guess

_________

Idk if everyone just feels sensory needs like I do but I think that giving Shang Qinghua sensory needs would be so interesting like, him hating to go to missions and just wishing to be a peak lord to just have the security to sleep in the same bed everyday (spoiler alert: he doesn't)

[rispwr]

Still with you - JK - MDNI - PART TWO

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after breaking up with your boyfriend for 14 years for cheating on you, choosing to still stay with him in his apartment wasn't quite the best idea. especially after seperating.

warnings/contents : smut, mentions of pregnancy, cheating, rape, unprotected sex, alcoholism, degrading, and this jungkook should be a warning.

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

this fic only has maybe 2 or 3 chapters

I wake up to the sound of my alarm, the shrill beeping cutting through the silence of the room.

 I’m on the couch again, my back aching from another restless night. The familiar weight of tension settles over me as I remember where I am, Jungkook’s apartment. I groan, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could wake up somewhere else, anywhere else.

Today’s a workday, and for that, I’m grateful.

 Work is my escape, the one place where I can forget about everything that’s gone wrong in my life. I sit up, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My mind is already racing with the tasks I need to tackle at the studio, the new song I’ve been working on, the production tweaks that need to be made.

I stand, stretching, and glance at the closed bedroom door. He’s still in there, probably asleep. Good. The less I have to see him this morning, the better. I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible.

As I get ready, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to push away the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since I woke up. I need to focus on work today, not on the fact that I’m still here, stuck in this apartment with him. The makeup I apply is like a shield, something to hide behind. I can’t afford to look vulnerable, not today.

When I step out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready to go, I hear movement from the kitchen. My heart sinks. Of course, he’s awake now. I should have left earlier. I quickly grab my bag, hoping to slip out without any interaction.

But as I near the door, Jungkook’s voice stops me. “You’re leaving already?”

I freeze, my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah. I have to get to the studio,” I say, not turning around.

“You’re always in such a rush,” he says, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it that I can’t ignore.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “I have a lot to do.”

“Right. Because work is all you care about now.” His voice is cold, and it hits me like a punch to the gut.

I turn around, glaring at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, leaning against the counter, his eyes dark. “Just that you’ve been burying yourself in work ever since...”

I know what he’s about to say, and I can’t bear to hear it. “Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off. “Just don’t.”

His eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. But I don’t have the energy for this fight. Not today. I turn and walk out the door, slamming it behind me.

at work

“Hold the elevator!”

I quickly hit the button to keep the doors open, and a moment later, Yoongi slips inside, slightly out of breath. He grins at me, and for the first time today, I feel my mood lift a little.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn’t think I’d make it.”

“No problem,” I reply, smiling back at him. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

He nods, still catching his breath. “Yeah, just started producing for some of the artists here. It’s been a wild ride so far.”

“That’s great,” I say, genuinely happy for him. I’ve been running into Yoongi at the coffee shop for a while now, and there’s something about him that makes everything feel a little less heavy. “I’m a producer and singer here too. Guess we’ll be seeing each other around a lot more.”

“Looks like it,” he replies, his smile widening. “Maybe we could work on something together sometime.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You say that like I wouldn’t be honored.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “The honor’s mine. Seriously.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the elevator continues its ascent, and I feel a sense of relief that I haven’t felt in a while. Being around Yoongi is easy. There’s no pressure, no expectations. Just two people who happen to get along.

Before the doors open to my floor, Yoongi pulls out his phone. “Hey, do you mind if we exchange numbers? In case you need anything...work-related, of course.”

“Of course,” I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me as we swap numbers. The doors slide open, and I step out, turning back to give him a small wave. “See you around, Yoongi.”

“See you, Y/N,” he replies, and I can feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hallway. For the first time today, I feel a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

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

Yoongi’s arm is around my shoulders as we approach my apartment building.

 The evening air is cool, a welcome relief after a stressful day. We reach the door, and I fumble with my keys, feeling a tight knot of anxiety in my stomach.

As we step inside, I’m met with an unexpected and unsettling scene. 

Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, clearly drunk, his clothes disheveled. The room is a chaotic mess, reflecting his mental state.

Yoongi looks at me with a quick, sympathetic glance but doesn’t enter the apartment. “I’ll text you once I’m home,” he says quietly, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” I manage to reply, though my mind is already racing with dread about the confrontation that’s about to unfold.

Yoongi watches me walk towards the door before turning and heading back to his car. 

I take a deep breath and step into the apartment, trying to steel myself for the encounter.

Jungkook’s eyes shift towards me, narrowing with a mix of anger and contempt. “Look who decided to come back,” he slurs, his voice dripping with disdain. “You and your new friend.”

I try to keep my voice steady. “Jungkook, can we not do this right now?”

He stands up with a lurch, stumbling towards me. His face is flushed, and his breath smells of alcohol. 

“Oh, so now you want to play nice? After everything you’ve put me through?”

I wince at his words but hold my ground. “I didn’t come here to fight. I just needed to get rest after work.”

Jungkook’s gaze hardens, and he stumbles closer, his voice rising with every word. “You think you can waltz back in here like nothing happened? You were too busy with your career to even notice what was going on with us. And then, when we lost the baby, you act like it’s all my fault?”

The accusation is a knife to my heart, but I try to stay composed. “That’s not fair. You contributed to the stress, too. It wasn’t just me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are icy, filled with cruelty. “Fair? Do you know how it felt to be ignored? To have the person I was supposed to rely on pushing me away? You didn’t care about me or our baby. It was always about your career, your stress. You failed us.”

My tears start to fall uncontrollably.

 “I was trying my best to handle everything. I needed your support, but you were too busy finding someone else.”i sob

Jungkook’s anger intensifies, and he stumbles forward, grabbing my arms roughly. “You think you can just come back and fix things? You destroyed everything, and now you have to face the consequences.”

Before I can react, Jungkook pulls me towards him, his lips crashing onto mine in a forceful, unwanted kiss. The suddenness of it shocks me, and I struggle to push him away, my tears mixing with the bitterness of the moment.

“Stop it!” I manage to cry out, pushing against his chest with all my strength. “This isn’t what I want.”

Jungkook’s grip tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of rage and desperation. “You don’t get to walk away from this. You’ve hurt me, and now you’ll face it.”

I wrench myself free, stumbling back. My heart is racing, and the pain is overwhelming. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

I pull out my phone, feeling the tears fall freely. Yoongi’s message is waiting for me: “I’m home. Let me know if you need anything.”

I respond quickly, “Thank you.” The message is a small comfort amidst the storm of emotions.

jungkook threw the phone away, my eyes watching the phone being thrown away to the couch. 

he then tries to unbutton my blouse "jungkook- s-stop" i whimpered, trying to pull away from him but it wasn't working. he didn't stop kissing me.

 i was trapped.

 "you're still mine y/n" jungkook’s grip tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of rage and desperation, his voice is deeper than usual.

i just cried. letting him do what he wants to me knowing i can't do anything about it. he's too strong for me. 

all i need is to get away from him and get out of this apartment as soon as possible.

jungkook was drunk as hell.

 pounding into me harshly "you think you can get away from me?" he grunts 

"this cunt is mine only" i moaned as i sob at the same time. i didn't want this. 

"jungkook! please.. stop" i let out a whimper, still my palm on his chest, trying hard to push him away. 

finally i felt jungkooks release into me. i felt dirty.

i felt dirty having him all over me.

he pulls out and forgets about me, and goes to the shower, leaving me as it is. 

like im some sort of object. 

i sit down looking down at my bruised cunt, sobbing.

[felixitate]

one's elixir | lmh (teaser)

✩ pairing: lee know x reader

✩ genre/au: angst, smut, fluff? acquaintances to lovers, academic mentor, fantasy, wizard!au

✩ rating/est. wc: 18+ | around 20-22k (damn?)

✩ synopsis: you’re a walking disaster. not just in Minho's eyes but for anyone in the academy so when he was asked to supervise you, he had to agree to ensure everyone’s safety. but is it worth the risk to involve himself in something that even you can't control?

a/n: happiest birthday to my first-ever bias in stray kids! he went on live when it struck midnight here so i'm just 😩 i know you've all been waiting for so long so here's a small snippet at least

— part of the Spellbound Secrets series

"did you poison your entire class?" he starts, looking at you dead in the eyes as he drops the worksheet of potion formulas on the desk table. you're taken aback, both from his question and the fact that he's in front of you right now asking that.

"what? where did you hear that?" you almost stuttered, feeling a bit offended but thankfully, you recovered instantly. receiving questions like this isn't new to you knowing how much of a troublemaker you are.

your brain is still processing that the Lee Minho is your designated mentor. depending on the mentee, students who are chosen are seniors and graduate students.

out of all the ones in your department, it had to be him.

someone you've admired from afar for years now.

the idea of Minho having heard rumours about you fuelled further embarrassment in you. from what his friends told you about him, he never pays attention to these things unlike them.

his assumption must’ve been the result of hearing more from your professors. they know how he's like which was probably why the alchemy department sent him as your mentor.

it would definitely be effective but why did it have to be him? is he really the perfect one to possibly straighten you or were they just running out of choices?

you remember it clearly, being chosen to lead an experiment at the beginning of your potions class because of your exemplary record in your other courses. turns out, you're quite the opposite and you didn't just disappoint your professor but also endangered everyone in your class.

"i believe you have an idea already"

it wasn't like you planned it. realizing that using the wrong ingredient and missing the prescribed portion was inevitable. you didn't want to put anyone in danger.

you wonder how much Minho knows.

refusing to spare him another look, you grab the worksheets to distract yourself. while doing so, you did notice the small quirk on the corner of his lips as he sat down when you briefly took a quick glance.

a mix of emotions is bubbling inside you but you at least recovered from the shock. embarrassment, however, is still on a process since you essentially ruined your crush's first impression of you.

however, there's a small happiness in you along with an excitement of Minho being your mentor. this is your chance to know him more than what his friends have told you about him. they gave you a heads up that made you a bit hesitant at first since Minho rejected many girls before. you have no idea how to interact with him and it might end in him only considering you as one of his juniors.

you can still pursue him though so that's why you'll try to behave for now.

"you don't even know me"

"i know enough" he counters, not sparing you a look as he opens another book.

"rumours don't equate to the real me"

"regardless, i only agreed to this because you're a hazard to everyone"

hearing that from someone you admire did sting a little but it's reasonable. he's just concerned for everyone's safety but you're kinda hurt that he'd think that way even if it's technically your fault.

minho could tell that what he said struck something in you cause you never bothered answering him.

"we'll have to set a learning plan for you" he starts, breaking the awkward silence that rules between you both.

"alright, let's get this started"

.

e/n: very long fics are not my forte that's why it's taking me so damn long to finish this one lol. add that @temptaetions and i had to re-outline/rewrite most of the fics (me mostly) since posting the series masterlist because of the extra stuff added during the fanmeeting (vcrs. etc.). thank you for your patience so far, we've been writing behind the scenes to finish them all up so we can release them back to back when the time comes :)

[scary-grace]

the boy anon spooky prompt here and it would be very cool to see it reader x shigaraki if possible. I just really like the way you write it and i think it would be interesting.

Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt! I had to go check out the movie for this one, and I agree -- it was really interesting to write! I hope you enjoy this take on it. Happy Halloween! (dividers by @cafekitsune)

d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e

You need a job and a place to hide. The Shimuras need a nanny for their five-year-old son Tenko while they take a three-month trip abroad. It's a match made in heaven -- or it would be, if it wasn't for the fact that Tenko's been dead for seventeen years, and they want you to look after a doll that looks just like him. It wouldn't take much for you to be convinced that the doll's haunted by Shimura Tenko himself. And it is haunted. Just not the way you thought. (cross-posted to Ao3)

You’ve been on and off apprehensive since you stepped off the train at Kurouzu station, and more on-apprehensive than off since the directions you printed off pointed you straight out of town, but when you actually reach the address you’re aiming for, the nerves kick into high gear. This is the Shimura family’s estate, all right. The address is right, and so is the sign. And you know the Shimuras have money, or else they wouldn’t be able to afford paying a broke twentysomething to live in their house and watch their son – but still, you weren’t expecting their house to be this huge.

It feels iffy. Is it actually iffy? Or do you just want it to be iffy because you’re into self-sabotaging and you’re nervous about babysitting a five-year-old for three months? Whether it’s iffy or not, you still need money. And somewhere to stay. And you made a promise. You take a deep breathe, then ring the doorbell.

The door opens so fast that it gives you whiplash, and you find yourself staring up at a tall, dark-haired man with fine features and a mouth that’s primed to frown. “Mr. Shimura?”

“Yes. You’re late.”

“I’m – sorry?” You stumble on the words. “I thought I was – just a few minutes –”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” A pretty, brown-haired woman appears over Mr. Shimura’s shoulder, a nervous, strained smile on her face. “Kotaro’s just a little anxious. It’s been years since we took a trip, and he’s still a little worried that something’s going to go wrong.”

“Yes,” Mr. Shimura agrees. There’s a pause. “Come inside. Tenko is quite anxious to meet you.”

Right. The kid. You put on a smile. “I’m excited to meet him too.”

The Shimuras’ house is pretty on the outside, fancy on the inside – but dark. All the curtains are drawn, and the lights aren’t bright enough to compete with shadows. It doesn’t look like the kind of house that a five-year-old lives in. You don’t know a lot of people with five-year-olds, but you’re pretty sure that five-year-olds are messier than this. There should be toys around. Or kids’ books. There should be brighter colors, better lights, maybe an open window or two. It can’t be good for Tenko to have things this dark.

What do you know? You’re not a parent. Then again, you’ll be the one responsible for Tenko for the next three months, so maybe you can make a few changes around here. You bought a book on developmental theory to read on the train, but instead you ended up watching TikTok videos until the 5G vanished. Maybe you’ll start reading it tonight after you put Tenko to bed.

“So, um –” you start, as Mrs. Shimura leads you up the stairs. “Can you tell me a little bit about what Tenko’s like? I mean, obviously I’ll ask him, but –”

“Oh, we can tell you!” Mrs. Shimura’s voice is bright. “He’s –”

“After you meet him,” Mr. Shimura interrupts from behind you. “Wait here.”

You pause, and Mr. Shimura slips past you to join Mrs. Shimura up ahead. They duck into a particular room, and you can hear them talking quietly. In the meantime, you take stock of your surroundings. The Shimura house is sparsely decorated, but on the wall opposite from you, there’s a family portrait hanging. It’s a good one. Mrs. Shimura, Mr. Shimura, and two children. The boy, the smaller one, must be Tenko. But there’s another one. A girl.

She doesn’t look that much older than Tenko. Is she old enough to go on a European tour with her parents, or is she staying with somebody else? If she’s staying with somebody else, how come Tenko isn’t staying there, too? Before you can really wind yourself up over something that’s none of your business, Mr. Shimura steps out into the hall, followed by Mrs. Shimura, who’s carrying Tenko. He must not be very heavy – she’s beckoning you forward with one hand.

“He’s a bit shy,” she says, apologetic. You have a split second to realize that something’s off about the kid’s position in her arms before she steps forward, fully into the light. “This is Tenko, our son. Say hello.”

You can’t say anything at all. All you can do is stare, because Tenko’s not a little boy like you thought he’d be. Tenko’s not a boy at all. Tenko’s a doll.

“A doll?” Manami asks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you hiss into the phone. It’s a big cordless phone, and you’ve got it pinned between your ear and shoulder as you pack and unpack your suitcase over and over again. “A big, creepy doll. Why would I lie about this?”

“I mean, I don’t think you would,” Manami says. She sounds bemused more than anything else. Maybe you need to say “creepy” again, with more emphasis. “How big is it?”

“Like, kid-sized. They put it on the bed at night.” You can’t think of the whole bizarre ritual Mr. and Mrs. Shimura demonstrated for you without feeling like you’ve lost your mind. “They have a daily routine for it – I’m supposed to wake it up in the morning, and take it out of its pajamas and put it in its clothes and make it breakfast –”

“Why do you have to make it breakfast? Dolls don’t eat.”

“I know dolls don’t eat. Everybody and their mother knows dolls don’t eat! Even little kids only fake-feed their dolls.” You want to scream. “But they want me to make it breakfast. And play music for it. And read aloud to it – and make it lunch and dinner and read it a bedtime story like it’s a real kid. I’m even supposed to give it a goodnight kiss.”

“But it’s not a real kid,” Manami says. You hit your head against the bedpost, producing a hollow thunk. “Why do they have you taking care of a doll like it’s a real kid? Do they even have real kids?”

“They do. Did.” You wouldn’t let the Shimuras leave without giving you an answer about that one, and because they really wanted you to stay and look after their creepy doll for three months, they didn’t screw around. “Two of them. Tenko – the one they named the doll after – and an older girl named Hana. They both died in an accident seventeen years ago.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Manami sounds like she’s tearing up. You probably would have teared up, too, if the Shimuras hadn’t told you that after they’d handed you the creepy doll they named after their dead son. “They lost both their kids at once? I would go crazy too.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t,” you say. “Not all the way. There’s only one doll.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Manami admits. “Why wouldn’t they make one for Hana too?”

“It gets weirder. Hana has a shrine. I’m supposed to take care of it.” That’s the least weird part of your job. If all you were doing was taking care of shrines to the Shimuras’ dead kids, you’d be perfectly happy. “They don’t have a shrine for Tenko. And the only picture they have of him is in this big family portrait on the wall.”

“Huh,” Manami says slowly. “Rich people are weird.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” you ask, exasperated. “Rich people are weird?”

“They are. Poor people wouldn’t make a life-sized doll of their dead kid and pay somebody to take care of it like it’s alive,” Manami says. You think she’s probably right. You’re poor, and if you had a kid who died, you – well, you don’t know what you’d do. You definitely wouldn’t do that. “Does it look like him?”

“Yeah. Creepily like him.” When you were racing upstairs to drop the doll on the bed and lock it in, you were unnerved enough to stop by the family portrait and check. “And creepily accurate, size-wise. Like, if you didn’t look too hard, you’d think he was real.”

“He is real,” Manami says, and you almost drop the phone. “I mean, the doll is real.”

“Right.” The doll is a little too real for your taste. “I think I meant alive.”

“That’s creepy,” Manami says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You called her looking for validation, and you got it. You should have expected her to ask for details first. You would have. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they aren’t true. “I can’t leave, either. I need the money. And I need to be – away. For a little while at least. Until everybody forgets.”

“Until he forgets,” Manami says. Your ex-boyfriend, everybody. He’s so popular in town that they might as well be the same thing. “He came around last night looking for you. Danjuro told him off.”

You were already on edge over the doll thing, but that piece of news soaks you in an instant cold sweat. “Did he say anything?”

“Danjuro or Keigo? Danjuro would never,” Manami says, offended. You try to pace your breathing, praying you won’t hyperventilate. “Keigo said he was just worried about you, because he didn’t see you come to work yesterday – and when he asked everyone said you’d quit – so he thought he’d stop by –”

“Fuck.” If you could go back in time and give your past self one piece of advice, it would be to send the town’s youngest police chief in history packing when he asked if he could buy you a drink. That one bad decision spiraled into a nightmare you’re still struggling to escape. “I don’t understand. What is it going to take to make him stop?”

“You’re doing the smart thing. Going away, letting things die down,” Manami says. “I know this new place is creepy, but you picked it for a good reason. They’ll pay you cash, so Keigo can’t trace your cards. It’s a small town off the map, so it’ll be hard for him to find –”

“And I’m supposed to spend all day playing house with creepy Tenko, so no one will be able to tell him they saw me.” You’ll wear a disguise if you have to go out into town. Now that you know Keigo’s still looking for you, you need to be even more careful. “I just wish I wasn’t stuck here. And I wish it was a real kid.”

“Real kids pee their pants and cry,” Manami says practically, and you manage a wheeze of laughter. You knew talking to Manami would make you feel better, even if nothing has changed. “Trust me. You’re better off with the doll.”

You might be better off with the doll than a real kid, but for the first week or so of your stay in the Shimura house, you neglect doll Tenko in a way that real Tenko would never have let you get away with. Real Tenko probably wouldn’t have put up with being locked in his room all day, or being fed breakfast at two pm because you stayed up late and slept in later the night before. And real Tenko definitely wouldn’t have tolerated being schlepped around feet-up because you don’t like having his scary porcelain face so close to yours.

Then again, real Tenko probably didn’t like listening to classical music at max volume, either. Real Tenko’s also been dead for seventeen years. It’s probably safe to stop worrying about what real Tenko would think of how you deal with his freaky little homunculus counterpart.

Whenever you’re not conspicuously ignoring Tenko’s schedule, you’re getting to know the rest of the Shimura house – and outside it, the Shimura estate. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that you have a hard time imagining how anything in Europe could measure up, and when the weather allows it you spend a lot of time outdoors, poking around on the trails that cover the property and watching whatever animals wander by. The animals here aren’t very scared of people. The Shimuras probably don’t allow hunting on their property, and based on what the mailman does when he stops by every afternoon, nobody in town likes coming near the property for too long.

One person does, though. The Shimuras let you know that somebody comes by to deliver groceries – and bring your payment – once a week, and you’re coming back from a walk on a grey, foggy day when you see him. He’s balancing four grocery bags in one arm and trying to unlock the door with the other. You hurry forward. “Here, let me get that. I’m sorry.”

“I rang the bell.” The delivery guy’s face is completely concealed by the pile of grocery bags he’s toting. “No answer.”

“Yeah, I was out for a walk.”

“I thought you were supposed to stay inside. You know, since Tenko’s allergic to the air the rest of us breathe.” The delivery guy steps through the door after you unlock it, then drops the bags on the kitchen table and looks around. “Where is the kid, anyway? He’s usually attached to Mrs. Shimura at the hip.”

“He’s, uh, taking a nap.” You look the delivery guy up and down, noting blue eyes and spiky white hair, along with some burn scars and a ton of facial piercings. “I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Touya.” He holds out a hand to shake, and you copy him as you introduce yourself. “Yeah, Mrs. Shimura mentioned that someone new was coming, but I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. They’ve tried out a lot of nannies, but Tenko’s kind of picky. Or so I hear.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask. Touya’s eyebrows lift. “We are talking about the same Tenko here, right?”

“The d-o-l-l? That’s right,” Touya says. You give him the weirdest look you can manage on short notice. “Yeah. The Shimuras get pissy if we don’t talk about him like he’s real, so we all got in the habit. You will, too, if you’re here long enough.”

“We,” you repeat. “How many of you are there?”

“Me and my siblings. The Shimuras hire us to do stuff,” Touya says. “The weekly deliveries are usually my thing, but Fuyumi or Natsuo might fill in sometimes, since they can drive, too. Fuyumi helps with their garden in the summers and Natsuo does maintenance shit. I won’t bring the brat out here until it’s time to chop firewood. One of these days I’ll get lucky and he’ll lose a limb.”

You think Touya’s joking. You’re not sure. “Which one’s the brat?”

“Shoto. My baby brother. Daddy’s favorite.” Touya scoffs. “He gets all the pocket money he wants. He doesn’t even need to work, but does he let that stop him? No. He makes me drag him out here anyway –”

Touya breaks off, glances at you. “Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah.” You have siblings the same way the Shimuras have kids, but you don’t bring that up unless you’re forced to. “I’m the oldest. I’m guessing you are, too?”

“That’s right.” Touya runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even higher than it was before. “Not that I care too much about your backstory, but you must have something really shitty going on to make this the better offer.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” You’re not too interested in Touya’s thoughts on your backstory, either. You collect the envelope with your pay and sort through it quickly, confirming that it’s all there, then look up at Touya. “Do I need to tip you or anything?”

“Twenty percent is customary.” Touya doesn’t let that crack stand for very long. “No. The Shimuras might be off the wall, but they pay well for everything – grunt work like what I do all the way up to caring for their precious little boy.”

There’s a thud from somewhere upstairs, and you jump out of your skin. Touya startles, too, but he recovers faster. “Sounds like the monkey just fell off the bed. You should probably go check on that.”

“Yeah. It was, uh – nice to meet you,” you say. Touya snorts. “See you next week.”

You don’t actually think Touya would steal your money, but you take the envelope with you when you race up the stairs to the second floor, and drop it on your bed before hurrying into Tenko’s room. You spend as little time in here as possible. It’s like a time capsule, frozen on the day the Shimuras decided to replace their dead son but not their dead daughter with a photorealistic porcelain doll, and it gives off some of the worst vibes you’ve ever felt.

You leave Tenko in here most of the time because looking at him creeps you out, and in spite of Touya’s joke about monkeys on the bed, he’s exactly where you left him. What’s fallen over is a mostly-empty bookshelf, and there’s something behind it – a little alcove in the wall, with a pile of old, dusty toys. Action figures, mainly, along with a single plushie. You go to investigate, and discover that while you’re not much of a comic-book fan, you recognize almost all the action figures. They’re from Adventures of All Might, a cartoon your brother used to watch. It’s been off the air for ten years at least. What are toys from a show that old doing in a five-year-old’s room?

The answer occurs to you, and to your displeasure, it makes you even more uncomfortable than the question. This isn’t a five-year-old’s room. Shimura Tenko died when he was five years old – seventeen years ago, when Adventures of All Might was on the air. If Tenko was alive, he’d be about as old as you are. The thought weirds you out so badly that you nudge the action figures to the side and pick up the plushie.

Getting a decent look at the plushie first involves violently shaking the plushie until the dust comes up in a big cloud. Underneath the dust, the plushie’s dog-shaped, or more accurately, corgi-shaped. There’s a piece of yarn around its neck, with a cardboard tag hanging from it. You hold it up for a look and somehow manage to decipher the handwriting of a long-dead five-year-old. “Mon,” you say out loud. “That’s a good name.”

It's a good name, but thinking about it makes you miserable. A big, creepy doll might be all that’s left of Shimura Tenko, but Shimura Tenko was a real person – a little kid who liked cartoons and handmade a collar for his plushie, who’d be your age if he’d had the chance to grow up. Your eyes are stinging from the dust. You spend a few more seconds brushing it away, then carry Mon over to the bed and set him down beside Tenko.

You’re surprised at how much less unsettling the sight becomes now that you’ve added a toy to it. It’s improved enough that you feel okay spending a little longer in Tenko’s room, righting the bookshelf that fell and arranging the action figures on top of it, before you go downstairs to put away the groceries.

The Shimura house is old. Old houses make noises – weird noises, a lot of the time, and that’s just something you have to live with. You’re good at living with it most nights, but tonight, as the first really big storm of autumn rages around the house, the noises you hear sound less like old-house creaks and groans and more like footsteps. And voices. And laughter. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t.

You tried to call Manami, but the phone lines are down, and while you haven’t tried the lights, you’re pretty sure they’re out. All you can do is huddle up in bed, the door to your room barricaded, mumbling to yourself like an actual lunatic. “This is fucked up, this is fucked up, this is so fucked up –”

You’re fucked up. You think something’s haunting this place? The ghosts of a five-year-old and his seven-year-old sister, who didn’t even die in here? Some haunting. It’s your overactive imagination putting you through hell, and you’ve got proof – your shitty ex-boyfriend Takami Keigo is very much alive, and your mind’s been telling you that one of the laughing voices belongs to him. If you were faced with a choice between a living Keigo and a ghost Keigo, you’d pick the ghost in a heartbeat. Ghosts can’t stalk you when you try to take a break from the relationship and enlist the entire town, police force included, to their cause. And you could probably exorcise him, which would be a lot easier than whatever you’d have to do to get rid of real Keigo for good.

The sounds get weirder, and they’re coming from all over the place – the ceiling above you, the hallway, the rooms on either side of yours, even inside the walls. Maybe you’ve got rats or something. You’ll ask Natsuo about that when he comes over tomorrow to clear leaves out of the gutters and branches off the roof. It’s fine if there’s rats tonight, right? You can take a rat in a fight. Probably even ten rats. You’re not going to get eaten alive by rats. Ghost Keigo could be dealt with. Rats can also be dealt with. It’s just your imagination. You need to get it together.

It's just past three in the morning, and you think the getting-it-together is going okay, when a particularly big gust of wind rattles the house. There’s a colossal bang from somewhere, but only one. The windows are shaking in their frames, producing an odd, warped sound, and somewhere beneath it, there’s another sound, a sound that’s got no place in this house. Someone’s crying. It doesn’t take much or any stretching of the imagination to convince yourself that it’s a kid.

You decide instantly that you’re not going to waste time trying to talk yourself out of it. You’ll go check on Tenko, confirm that Tenko is in fact still a doll and not a real boy, and then you’ll go to bed and sleep in as late as you damn well please.

The wood floors in the hallway are cold beneath your feet, but it’s only a short walk to Tenko’s room – and then you have to double back, because you don’t have a flashlight and the lights are out. You’re already spooked and already frustrated by the time you open the door to Tenko’s room, and when you open the door, you’re ready to be mad. You click on the flashlight, raise it, and pan it over the room. And then you freeze.

Tenko’s room is trashed. Multiple shelves have been overturned, toys and books spilling everywhere, and the curtains over the boarded-up window hang in tatters. The shade’s off the lamp on the nightstand, and the dresser drawers yawn open – or else they’ve been pulled free and scattered across the room. The sheets are askew on the bed, the bed itself shifted at a weird angle. Tenko is nowhere to be found.

“Tenko?” you say hesitantly. You pan the flashlight again, and for a split second, you see a shadow crouched atop Tenko’s bed, far too big to be the doll. You don’t need to see any more than that. You drop the flashlight and scream.

The storm drowns out your scream, and you run out of air eventually – and then you’re tired of it. Screaming’s not doing anything to help, and if the shadow was going to kill you, it would have done it by now. You crouch down and feel along the floor until you come up with the flashlight, which still works. You check the bed first, but there’s no shadow there. There never was. The only things in this house are you and Tenko, and neither of you was up on the bed like a gremlin five seconds ago. You keep looking for Tenko. He has to be in here somewhere.

And he is. You find him behind the door, Mon-chan in his arms, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Hi, Tenko,” you say, like a crazy person. “Did you get scared?”

He doesn’t answer, of course. Because he’s a doll. He’s a doll, and you’re crazy. Knowing that doesn’t stop you from looking around at the wreckage of the room, thinking about how scary it would be to have to go back to bed in here if you were a kid. Thinking about how you used to be scared of lightning and thunder – maybe still are. “If you’re still scared,” you start, “do you want to stay in my room for tonight?”

Five minutes later, you’re setting a line of pillows down the middle of your bed, leaving one half for you and one half for Tenko. And Mon-chan, because you felt less weird about inviting a doll to sleep in your bed if the doll has its plushie, too. Once you’ve got Tenko squared away, you block the door again. “It’ll be daylight soon,” you tell yourself. Then, to Tenko: “We’ll fix your room up and everything will be fine.”

Tenko’s eyes are open. His eyes are grey, like they are in the family portrait, with long lashes. You reach out and close their lids carefully. The chances that you’ll be able to get to sleep are slim, but they’re zero as long as you’ve got a doll staring at you.

“It’s weird, right?” you say anxiously as Natsuo scans the mess in Tenko’s room. Most of the Todoroki kids don’t come inside the house, but you managed to lure Natsuo inside by mentioning the really loud bang you heard last night. “The wind couldn’t have done this.”

“Not with all the windows boarded up, yeah.” Natsuo looks wary. “You sure you don’t sleepwalk or anything?”

“Never,” you say. “I just – it was like this when I came in.”

“This is creeping me out,” Natsuo says, but he doesn’t look away. He’s looking around the room. “Where’s Tenko?”

“I moved him. In there.” You nod toward your room. “Things got wild in here last night. I kept thinking I was hearing voices, or laughter – or kids crying –”

You sound like a lunatic, again. Why does everything that happens to you make you look and feel crazy? “Have any of the other nannies mentioned things like that?”

“No,” Natsuo says, backing away from Tenko’s room. He glances into your room again. “Hey, Tenko. What – wait, you found Mon-chan? I remember that thing.”

“Huh?”

“That used to be his favorite,” Natsuo says. “When he was alive.”

You didn’t get much sleep last night. You’re a little slow. “Wait, you knew him?”

“We all did. Hana, too.” Natsuo starts down the hall, aiming for the stairs to the third floor. “They’re the richest family in town, and our shitty bastard of a father only wanted us to associate with the best. We all played together.”

You wish somebody had told you that earlier. “What was he like?”

“I don’t really remember,” Natsuo says with a shrug. “I was four. Touya would know better. You should ask him.”

He disappears up the stairs, and you chase after him. You don’t spend a lot of time on the top floor – it’s the master bedroom, and Mr. Shimura’s study, and a lot of stuff you feel like you shouldn’t get involved with. Natsuo doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “The attic’s open,” he calls. You climb the last few steps. “I bet the thud you heard was the trapdoor coming down.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” The trapdoor and ladder look heavy enough to produce the sound. “Can you fix it?”

“I’d have to climb up in there.” Natsuo looks really wary now. Out of the three older Todoroki siblings, he’s the one who’s least comfortable with coming into the house. “How about you climb up and look at the hinges? I’ll tell you what to look for, and I’ll come up if there’s anything wrong.”

You don’t want to go up in the attic, either, but you also want to make sure this doesn’t happen again. You nudge past Natsuo and climb the ladder into the musty dimness of the attic. Dimness, not darkness – there’s a skylight, the first window on the upper floors of the house that’s not boarded up completely. The attic itself is cluttered and dusty, but there aren’t any cobwebs that you can see. Small favors.

You crouch down by the trapdoor. “Okay. What am I looking for?”

Natsuo tells you, but even without his instructions, you probably could have figured it out. One hinge has been completely sheared away, dangling by one barely-there screw. Natsuo climbs up to study it with you, frowning. “This doesn’t look like metal fatigue. And the wood’s still in good condition. I don’t understand why it would just break.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah,” Natsuo says. “You have to stick around, though. I’m not staying up here alone.”

“Fair enough.”

While Natsuo works, you investigate the rest of the attic, trying not to sneeze and create a dust storm. At least half the attic is taken up by objects labeled as belonging to “Mom”, but they’ve been there way too long to be referring to Mrs. Shimura. You blow some dust off of a big picture frame to see what’s inside and find yourself looking at a poster that could be from a circus. The background is black and yellow and grey, the lettering ornate but still legible. Psychopomp, Medium, Illusionist: See the Spectacular Shimura Nana!

The next picture frame in line has a picture of Shimura Nana herself, and it’s immediately clear to you where Mr. Shimura got his looks from. Shimura Nana is gorgeous, dark-haired and grey-eyed with a bright, almost cocky smile on her face, and there’s a birthmark just below the corner of her mouth that looks familiar. When you think about people who can talk to the dead, you don’t think of them as looking this happy.

You carry both picture frames back to Natsuo. “Did you know their grandma was a magician?”

“No.” Natsuo glances at the frames, then flinches, almost dropping his screwdriver. “Shit. If I were you, I’d get out of here.”

You raise your eyebrows, and Natsuo gives you an exasperated look. “Somebody who could talk to the dead used to live here. The people who own this place have a doll that they treat like their dead son. And last night something trashed their dead son’s room. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? This place is haunted.”

“Don’t say that. I have to live here.”

“It’s gonna be haunted whether I say it or not.” Natsuo gives you a weird look. “Is it just the money thing? There are other ways to get money.”

“It’s not just money. I have to stay out of the way,” you say. “There’s this guy – my ex – he’s a cop –”

Natsuo’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I get it,” he says. “Our piece-of-shit old man is a cop. Our mom couldn’t get away, either.”

Your stomach drops. You know cops talk to each other. “Please don’t tell your dad that I’m –”

“Are you kidding? I barely talk to him. No way am I telling him that.” Natsuo says. He glances at you. “I get why you feel like you have to stay here. This place is still haunted.”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t know what’s haunting it – Tenko’s ghost, his sister’s ghost, his grandma’s ghost, or all three plus however many ghosts Shimura Nana summoned to hang out with her – but you have the same thought you had last night, and this time, you say it out loud. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.”

You get Tenko’s room reordered, and when the next storm comes, it doesn’t get trashed again. Then again, you go and grab the doll from the room the second you hear the first clap of thunder – not because you really think there’s a scared five-year-old ghost haunting it, but just to be safe. That same night, you retrieve Tenko’s schedule from where you abandoned it a month ago and read over it. Again, just to be safe.

It’s not that bad of a schedule, really. It’s not that weird. Most of it just involves moving Tenko from place to place around the house. You’d probably want a change of scenery, too, if you were a ghost haunting a doll. You don’t mind playing him music, but you play stuff you like, at a volume that’s a little less than earsplitting. You don’t mind reading aloud, so long as you’re reading your own books, and editing out the parts that aren’t kid-appropriate on the fly. And because he’s just there, and he’s not going to give you any feedback, it’s okay to think out loud.

At first it’s just whatever thought pops into your head, but as the days slip past in the second month of your stay at the Shimura house, you find that you’re getting into some stuff you haven’t talked about with anyone. And then, one day when you’re in the kitchen making your own dinner and setting out a plate for Tenko that you’ll inevitably throw away, you find yourself talking about something you swore you never would.

“I used to be a big sister,” you tell him. “Not like you and Hana. A bigger sister. My brother was five years younger than me, and he was my parents’ favorite, right from the start. That always used to confuse me. They liked him better even before he did anything.”

Confused is downplaying it. You were hurt. You still are, when you scratch the surface even a centimeter down. “I wanted to be a good sister, but it seemed like everything I did was wrong. I played too rough, or else I wasn’t playing with him at all. I didn’t share my toys, or I gave him toys he wasn’t supposed to have – and when I took them back, he’d always yell. And then my dad would yell. And I’d cry. But my brother was crying, too. And my mom always went to him.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Tenko. He’s sitting and waiting, like always, expression still and remote. You can’t look at him and say this next part. “When it happened, I was nine,” you say. “He was four. I was playing marbles, and he kept trying to grab them from me. He could talk by then – a lot – so I made a deal with him. He could pick any marble he wanted to play with, and let me have the rest of them. So he picked one – this big shooter, my favorite. Right out of my hand.”

The echo of your nine-year-old self’s anger still echoes through you, made all the more sickening by what happened next. “I tried to get it back, and he stuffed it in his mouth so I couldn’t. And then he started choking.”

You couldn’t get it out. You tried, screaming for help the whole time, but nothing you did made any difference. Nothing your mom did made any difference, either, and your baby brother was blue by the time the ambulance got there. Your parents didn’t blame you. You thought they were going to. You expected them to. But in their version of the story, you were barely there. You were their only kid again, and they couldn’t afford to hate you. Your brother grabbed the marble and swallowed it, and choked, and died. You just happened to be there. It wasn’t your fault.

But it was. You were the one who offered any marble he wanted. You should have known he’d pick the one you were holding – one that was too big to fit down his throat, one he’d try to keep away from you at any cost once he had it. You’re the one who couldn’t save him, and thinking about it doesn’t even make you cry. You’d say it makes you feel sick, but sick is too small of a word for the hollowness inside you. The place where you used to be a sister. The place where you used to be good.

“Today’s his birthday,” you tell Tenko, dry-eyed. “You’d be twenty-two like me if you were here for real, and he’d be seventeen, and I never told anybody that I gave the marble to him until just now. I don’t even know why I told you. I guess I thought you should know that it’s a good thing you’re not a real kid. Because I really don’t have great luck with those.”

You set Tenko’s plate down in front of him, knowing the food won’t be touched, then turn away to fill yours. When you turn back, the entire plate is gone.

You’ve gotten comfortable with the fact that the Shimura house is haunted. As comfortable as it’s possible to be when you don’t know exactly what’s haunting it. You put up with weird sounds at night, and with things being moved around, and you put up with some of your stuff going missing – but a whole plate of food vanishing because you turned around for two seconds? Nope. Not a chance. “Put it back.”

“He knows.”

You almost drop your plate, then tighten your grip. You’re losing it, officially, but you’ll be damned before you drop a bunch of food all over the floor. If you’re going to the mental hospital, you’re going well-fed. “I didn’t hear anything,” you say aloud. “I’ve just been talking to myself. That’s it.”

You stuff one bite, two bite, three bites of food into your mouth, and something speaks again. “Your brother. He knows.”

It’s not a little kid’s voice. Not the voice you’d imagine for Tenko as a ghost – but it doesn’t not sound like Tenko. It keeps talking. “He knows you tried to save him. And it matters that you tried.”

“How do you know?” Your voice rattles around the question, and there’s no answer. The strange voice doesn’t speak again, and the plate doesn’t reappear. “Please –”

“He knows,” the voice says. “He’d forgive you. If there was anything to forgive.”

The hollow place inside you has been there so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have anything there. When something floods backs in, it hits with such violence that it drives all the air from your lungs. You shove your plate to one side and double over, gasping for breath. Your eyes burn and your throat closes, and before you know it, you’re crying.

You don’t really cry. Keigo always said something was wrong with you, that you didn’t show your feelings and he wasn’t sure you even had them. Crying feels awful. The headache it generates is all-encompassing, and you put your head down on the kitchen table and shut your eyes, waiting for it to stop. It seems like it’ll never end, and somewhere amidst the pain and embarrassment and relief, you find a shred of hate in your heart for Keigo. You never cried in front of him? He never made you feel anything worth crying about.

When the crying stops, the headache remains, and you sit up, rubbing at the crick in your neck. You must have fallen asleep; it’s dark outside, and the kitchen’s gloomy along with it. Not gloomy enough, though. Not so gloomy that you can’t see Tenko’s plate sitting back in front of him, wiped perfectly clean. The glass of water you poured for him is empty, too. And something clicks into place in the back of your head, only slightly warped by the headache.

Hana has a shrine. Hana’s shrine has offerings on it. Maybe the food you leave for Tenko is an offering, too. “Did you like this?” you ask. Your voice sounds awful. “I can make it again sometime.”

You have to start paying more attention to what Tenko eats, if he eats any of it. It’s the least you can do, after what he told you today. Even if it isn’t true, even if the ghost haunting the Shimura house decided to tell you a lie, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to think about your brother without feeling like you’re the one being choked to death. That’s worth a meal or two, in your opinion. You might actually need to learn how to cook.

You clear Tenko’s plate away, and on an impulse, lean down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” you say. It feels weird to be kissing a doll, especially when you’ve been skipping the goodnight kiss so religiously, but this is a special occasion. “I feel better now.”

“Wow, have you lost it,” Touya says, laughing. He drops the groceries on the far end of the kitchen table, well away from where you and Tenko are eating lunch. “You know he can’t eat, right? He’s a doll.”

“I know. But he’s dead, so it’s like – an offering,” you say. “Since he doesn’t have a real shrine.”

“Yeah,” Touya remarks. He opens the fridge and starts shoving things in haphazardly. “Real nice piece of work on his dad’s part.”

That reminds you of something Natsuo said a while back, something you’ve been meaning to ask Touya about. “Your brother said you all knew the Shimuras. That you played together. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My assclown father and their assclown father both fell out of the same assclown tree.” Touya shuts the refrigerator, then opens the freezer. “We’d play together sometimes. Go to the birthday parties and shit. Hana went to the same school as me and Fuyumi. That’s about it.”

He glances sideways at you. “Natsuo said you were going to ask. What do you want to know?”

“What were they like?”

“Hana – she was cool. Nothing threw her off, and nothing kept her down. Everybody liked her. Even my shitheap father, which is really saying something.” Touya shuts the freezer, too, and turns to face you. “Tenko, though – he was kind of a crybaby. Everything made that kid cry. Didn’t matter if it was good or bad. If he had a feeling for longer than two seconds, there went the waterworks.”

You didn’t have a real idea of Tenko’s personality in your head. You had what Mrs. Shimura told you – shy, sweet, playful – but you threw out most of what she said on principle because she was saying it about a doll. “He was a lot,” Touya continues, “but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. It makes it kind of hard to believe the official story about what happened.”

“The official story,” you repeat. “The Shimuras just said it was an accident.”

“Yeah, they would.” Touya leans back against the kitchen table. “Both their kids drown in the well on the same day? Better be an accident.”

Your stomach lurches. “They drowned?”

“Both of them.” Touya pats his pocket, then comes up with a pack of cigarettes, followed by a lighter. “There are three schools of thought about what happened, and they all start with the well cover. I can take you out to look and prove it, but trust me when I say that thing’s a bitch – 20kg at least. The first school of thought says that Tenko got the well cover open and fell in, and when Hana heard him calling for help, she ran to help and fell in, too. And they both drown in there.”

You don’t understand why they need more than one school of thought. The first one is awful enough. “The second school of thought says somebody else opened the well cover and both kids fell in – and in that case, the question is who? The third one says that Tenko opened it himself and pulled Hana in after him. Guess which one the Shimuras went with.”

“They think he opened a 20kg well cover so he could drown himself in it and decided to take Hana with him, too?” You can barely believe it. You can’t imagine ascribing that kind of malice to a little kid. “I mean – I never met them, obviously, but – I don’t think he would –”

“I did meet him, and I don’t think so either. None of us do,” Touya says. He glances around the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Tenko for a second before drifting back to you. “Something really fucked up happened here. Fucked up things happen in the house I grew up in all the time, but not like this.”

He’s frowning. “My dad plays favorites, but he’s indifferent to the rest of us. Hana’s dad hated Tenko. You could tell.”

“How?”

“Because Hana wasn’t scared of him. Tenko was.” Touya lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “I wouldn’t spend too long thinking about it, if I were you.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to not think about it,” you say. You wish you’d asked what happened to Tenko and Hana sooner. “Is that why they’ve only got the one shrine?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” Touya shrugs, then heads over to the pantry to start unpacking the dry goods one-handed. “I can tell you this, though. When they went down into that well to get the kids out, they only found one body. And it wasn’t his.”

As if this couldn’t get more horrible. Picturing the children’s bodies floating together in the cramped quarters of the well is bad enough, but picturing just Hana, knowing that Tenko’s lost somewhere in the depths, never to be found – your skin crawls. You start unpacking the dry goods alongside Touya, trying to get through it quickly so he’ll leave. You need to be alone to think about this. You can’t talk to Tenko about it while someone else is here.

“One more thing,” Touya says under his breath. “Natsuo told me and Fuyumi about the thing. Dad cornered Fuyumi on it and she caved. So –”

So now a cop here knows that you’re hiding out from another cop. Your hands shake so badly that you drop the bag of rice you’re trying to put away. “Keep it together,” Touya warns. “We fucked up but we’re fixing it. The brat’s going to keep his ear to the ground, and we’ll keep an eye out. You should get as much advance warning as you need.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us,” Touya says. “Just think about what you’re going to do when the Shimuras get back.”

Right. You can’t stay here forever. It’s not like the Shimuras are going to let you keep taking care of Tenko when they’re here to do it themselves. Your expenses here are zero. By the time they come back home, you’ll have saved a lot of money, enough to do – something. Like get out of the country and never look back. Or hire someone to put a hit on Keigo so you never have to look over your shoulder again. Either way, you’ll be getting out of here. And you won’t see Tenko – or hang out with his ghost – ever again.

The thought shouldn’t make you sad, but it does. But nothing could possibly make you sadder than the thought of the Shimura kids trapped in the well. No matter how they got there.

Some part of you knew it couldn’t last – the part of you that’s familiar with the kind of guy you almost married, the one who always gets what he wants and can’t take no for an answer. Some part of you always knew Keigo would find you. But you weren’t prepared for what it would feel like to actually see him standing inside the kitchen of the Shimura household, surrounded by grocery bags and wearing a self-satisfied grin. You’d stammered out a question about what he was doing here, and Keigo smiled at you. “The police chief here’s a good guy. He let me know that his kids handle some of the work around here, and I offered to bring the groceries by so we’d have a chance to talk alone.”

He’d nodded meaningfully at Tenko, who you were holding. “We are alone, right? That’s just a creepy doll.”

You said yes, if only because you didn’t want Tenko anywhere near whatever you and Keigo were going to talk about. And now you’re in your room, under Keigo’s watchful eyes, packing up to leave.

The door to Tenko’s room is closed, but you’d be crazy to assume that his ghost couldn’t hear you no matter where you are in the house. “I can’t just leave,” you say for the millionth time. “This is my job. I made a commitment.”

“To take care of a human child. Not a doll.” Keigo is smiling, but his eyes are hard and glinting. “Getting out of here with me is the sanest thing anybody in your position can do. He’ll be fine.”

“No,” you say. Keigo raises his eyebrows. “They’ll be back in a month. Let me finish doing my job, and then I’ll come back.”

Keigo shakes his head. “I’m worried about your mental health. When I talked to the police chief here, and he told me his kids were helping you take care of a porcelain doll in a big house with boarded-up windows, I got even more worried. And I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but the Shimuras were never planning to come back.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Keigo reaches into his back pocket and produces a letter – one that’s clearly been addressed to Shimura Tenko, and one that’s already been opened. “Hey. You can’t just open people’s mail.”

“If it’s linked to illegal activity, I can do whatever I want.” Keigo slides the letter out of the envelope and clears his throat. “Dear Tenko, We are heartbroken to tell you that we will not be returning home. We can no longer live with what you have become. The girl is yours – the girl. That’s you, right?”

You can’t think of who else it would be. Keigo keeps reading, projecting his voice. “The girl is yours. She is yours to love and care for. May we all be forgiven. Yours, Mother and Father.” He lowers the letter, raises his eyebrows. “They’re sacrificing you to the memory of their dead son. You know, the one who was so sick and crazy he drowned himself just so he could drown his own sister?”

“That’s not what happened,” you say. Keigo laughs at you. “Shut up! You weren’t here –”

“Neither were you,” Keigo says. “I’ve read the police reports. The statements from the parents –”

“The ones Touya’s dad took?” You remember Touya and Natsuo comparing their dad to Tenko’s dad, and not in Mr. Shimura’s favor. “Sure. I guess they have to cover up for each other, or none of them would get away with it.”

“Okay. That’s it.” Keigo lifts the last pile of clothes out of your arms, drops them unceremoniously into your suitcase, and zips it shut. “The sooner you get out of this house, the better. We need to be far away from here by the time it comes out.”

“By the time what comes out?”

“This isn’t just the Shimuras’ goodbye letter, it’s their suicide note. Their bodies were recovered yesterday.” Keigo looks almost gleeful in the always-dim light of the Shimura house. Or maybe you really are just losing your mind. “Lawyers are going to be all over this place any day now. Let’s go.”

He pulls the suitcase off the bed with one hand, then grabs your arm with the other. “Come on. Don’t make this so difficult –”

“Give me the letter,” you say hopelessly. “I want to read it to Tenko.”

“You want to read a letter to a doll.” Keigo looks skeptical. “What’s that going to do?”

You invent something on the fly. “Closure.”

“Closure?” Keigo repeats. “Huh. I guess if it keeps you from fixating on this the way you fixate on everything else, sure. Go read the doll his parents’ suicide letter.”

Despair keeps your footsteps heavy as you make your way across the hall into Tenko’s room. You settled him on the bed with Mon-chan, like always, and you sit down on the end of the bed, the same as you do when you read him a bedtime story. “Tenko,” you start. “Um, I have to go. And I have something to tell you. I feel like you should hear it from me and not somebody else.”

You lay out the situation carefully, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to leave like this. I don’t want to, but Keigo’s here, and he says –”

“Don’t want to?”

You haven’t heard the ghost’s voice since it talked to you about your brother. “I don’t want to,” you say. “Keigo says I have to.”

“Don’t make me sound like a dictator. I want what’s best for you,” Keigo says from the doorway. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

“No.”

That was audible. Keigo should be able to hear it. “Keigo, did you hear –”

“You talking to yourself? Yeah.” Keigo grabs your arm, yanks you sharply away from the bed. “You went crazier than I thought in here, huh?”

“No.”

This time Keigo hears it. You can see it in his face. A split second later, the lights go out.

Keigo’s grip on your arm tightens. There’s a crash from somewhere else in the house, and his grip tightens further. He drags you out of Tenko’s room through the darkened house. “Did you plan this or something?” he asks you as you stumble down the stairs after him. “It’s a good show. If you put this much effort into making our relationship work –”

“NO.” The lights in the front hall switch on, revealing something standing dead center in the hallway, between you and the way out.

Keigo curses and rocks back a step, but you know instantly what you’re looking at, who you’re looking at. “No,” Shimura Tenko says. “No means no.”

Tenko doesn’t look very much like the doll anymore. His grey eyes are red, and his black hair is white, but you recognize his features. They’re the same ones from the doll, from the family portrait, from your memories his parents and the poster you saw of his grandmother. He’s thin, almost skeletal, his hands and limbs spiderlike. He looks filthy, and his clothes are ragged. If you’d had a nightmare of what might haunt this house the first night you moved in, it would have looked exactly like this.

You’re looking at Shimura Tenko. Shimura Tenko’s supposed to have been dead for seventeen years. You don’t know how or why he’s here, but you know one thing, one thing that’s been true since you realized the Shimura house was haunted: You’d rather take your chances with a ghost. “I don’t want to leave,” you say to Tenko, ignoring Keigo when he orders you to be quiet. “I promised I would stay.”

Tenko’s crimson gaze shifts from you to Keigo. “She stays,” he says in that strange, not-quite-human voice. “You leave.”

Keigo laughs. “Sorry, I don’t think you get it. We’re leaving. You’re staying right where you are.”

He starts down the hall again, your efforts to fight free barely making a skip in his stride. The front door opens a crack behind Tenko, and you can see a white-haired someone peering through. One of the Todorokis, maybe Touya or Natsuo who promised they’d warn you if they saw Keigo coming. Touya points at you, beckons. “I’m going to tell you this one more time,” Keigo is saying to Tenko. “Get out of the –”

Tenko lunges at him. Keigo lets go of you. And you run straight out the front door, down the front steps. Past the Todoroki siblings. As far and as fast as your legs will carry you, until you trip on something, hit your head on something else, and black out on the ground.

Smoke stings your nasal passages, and you wake up coughing. Someone is breathing raggedly next to you, and someone else is shaking your shoulder. “Come on,” Natsuo is saying under his breath. “Come on, come on –”

“No, be careful, she hit her head –” Fuyumi is patting your hand. “If you can hear us, we need you to wake up. It’s Tenko.”

Tenko, the doll? No, Tenko the – whatever he is. The thing that’s alive. The thing that’s real enough to challenge Keigo to a fight. You sit up with the worst headache you’ve had in maybe your entire life and look around. The grounds of the Shimura estate are eerily backlit, and when you glance over your shoulder, you see that the Shimuras’ house is in flames. “What – happened?”

“Tenko killed the cop,” Natsuo says. You look blankly at him. “Touya said we should burn down the house to hide it, and we thought Tenko understood. But then he went back inside.”

“He won’t come out,” Fuyumi says. “Touya’s been yelling for him, but he’s not responding. If we don’t get him out soon he’ll die. If he won’t listen to Touya, then –”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you,” Natsuo says. His expression twists. “He used to be normal. What happened to him?”

You don’t have a clue. Tenko’s alive. Somehow, some part of him – something that looks like him, or is him, or answers to his name. Tenko’s alive, and Keigo is dead, and that’s so difficult to process that your mind skips straight past it. Or tries to. Tenko is alive, and Keigo is dead because Tenko killed him, and for some reason Touya thought it was a good idea to try to burn down the Shimura house. You squeeze your eyes shut and try your hardest to compartmentalize. You can’t stop the house from burning. You can’t bring Keigo back to life. But there is someone alive in there. You can do something about that.

You get to your feet unsteadily and turn back towards the house. The top floor is in flames, light flickering behind the boarded-up windows, and although there’s smoke flooding the grounds, the lower floors of the house look clear of fire. It’s safe for you to go in. Safe enough. You duck past Touya, who’s been hollering up at the windows for Tenko to get “his creepy man-spider ass” out here, and in through the front door. And from there you have no idea what to do.

If you knew anything about who Tenko really is, you’d know where to look. The habits of doll Tenko tell you absolutely nothing. When he’s moved, or been moved, there’s no rhyme or reason to where he’s ended up – except for one time, the first time the doll ever moved from the place you left it. You climb the stairs, turn down the hall, dart past your room. The door to Tenko’s is open, the room itself trashed all over again. The only thing still in place is Mon-chan, sitting on the bed.

You grab it, in case it helps. Then you turn back to the place you found Tenko last time, and sure enough, he’s there. Right behind the door. But while doll Tenko could conceal himself perfectly in the space, the real Tenko is too tall and gangly. Even hunched in on himself with his knees drawn to his chest, there’s an elbow sticking out of the shadows in one spot, a foot sticking out in the another. His red eyes stare out blankly through the tangle of matted white hair. He’s not moving except to cough.

You’re coughing, too. It’s hard to speak. “Tenko, come on,” you say. “It’s not safe anymore. It’s time to go.”

“Dead.” His voice sounds even less human now. “They left me.”

His parents. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay here,” you say. “You don’t have to die because they did. You can come with me.”

There’s blood on Tenko’s hands, on his clothes. It’s smeared on the lower half of his face, draining from his nose and from a cut on his forehead. You pull your sleeve down over your hand, reach forward, and wipe it away, clamping down on the shiver that runs through you when he turns his head against your hand. “Come with me,” you say again, and he shakes his head. “Okay. Then move over.”

Tenko looks up, startled. “I said I didn’t want to leave you,” you say. “I meant it.”

You were wondering, all this time, if you’d know you’d finally lost your mind when it happened. The answer is yes, and the magical thing about losing your mind is that you don’t care all that much. The ex-boyfriend you were running from is dead. The house you were staying in is burning to the ground. You’ve spent the last three months taking care of a doll in a house you thought was haunted by a ghost, only to realize that everything you’ve been doing for the doll, you’ve been doing for the man it was modeled after, too. The world is upside down, twisted, backwards. Nothing and everything make sense right now.

“Either we both go,” you say, coughing harder now, “or we both stay. It’s up to you.”

You pull your hand back from wiping at his face and hold it out for him to take. He looks at it, then at you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. You wonder if he’s even scared of dying, if dying matters to something like him, whatever he is. If he really is Tenko, he’s died once before already, hasn’t he? Is it any harder to die again? Whether it is or not, Tenko doesn’t seem interested in finding out. He takes your hand, lets you pull him to his feet, and then yanks you out into the hall himself.

The air is thick and grey, and the flames are catching up, but Tenko’s fast as he drags you down the hall to the stairs. You stumble over a body at the base of them and make the mistake of looking at the face. Or what’s left of the face. Tenko doesn’t let you look for long. He pulls you past Keigo’s body to the front door and shoves you out of it – and then, before he can retreat, Natsuo and Touya seize him by his arms and yank him out after you.

The four of you tumble down the steps, landing in a heap in the driveway. Tenko is coughing, a wet, horrible sound, and while you’re able to get to your feet, he barely moves. You and the Todorokis have to drag him away from the house, down the driveway until all you can see of the house is the pillar of flames billowing up from the roof. You stop to catch your breath, and the others stop, too. You and Fuyumi, Touya and Natsuo, and Tenko sprawled on the ground between you.

It’s quiet for a second. “Wow,” Touya says to Tenko. “You’re even weirder-looking than I remember. And you reek.”

Fuyumi smacks him. Natsuo’s got bigger things to worry about. “What are we going to do with him?” he demands. “If that’s even him. If it’s some kind of monster that’s bad enough. If it’s him, he’s been dead for seventeen years – and he just killed a guy!”

“That guy was a fuckweasel,” Touya says. He glances at you. “Right?”

You don’t want to say yes. “He wasn’t a very nice guy,” you say, and Touya snorts. “I was scared of him.”

“And you’re not scared of that?” Natsuo demands.

“He’s not a that,” you say. “He’s –”

You don’t really know what. Tenko bleeds red like a human. Based on the way Tenko was yanking you around, he’s really strong. He’s so thin that he’s almost a skeleton, and he smells like he hasn’t showered in seventeen years. But whatever he is, he’s alive. That’s where you’ll start from. “He’s Tenko,” you say finally, for lack of a better way to phrase it. “I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m not scared of him right now. If I do get scared, I’ll deal with it then. I’m not leaving him here.”

“No one thinks we should do that,” Fuyumi reassures you. “We just need to think of where to put him. I know a place.”

It’s quiet for a second. “No,” Touya says suddenly. “He’s not staying at my place.”

“Just for tonight,” Fuyumi urges. “We can sneak him in now – Dad won’t be back for hours, he’ll be coming to investigate this – and clean him up before we figure out what to do with him.”

“She can stay there, too,” Natsuo says, nodding at you. “If Dad comes by, she can answer the door, and Dad will be so thrilled at the idea that you’re having straight sex that he won’t bother you for a week.”

Touya snickers at that. “Fine,” he says to Tenko. Then, to you: “You can borrow some of my clothes for him, but I’m not helping you give him a bath.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say. The idea of giving doll Tenko a bath felt so weird that you never did it. The idea of giving adult Tenko a bath is less weird but still something you aren’t looking forward to. You can hear sirens in the distance. “We should go now.”

Tenko’s semiconscious as you and the Todorokis load him into Touya’s car. Nobody wants to sit in the back with him, but someone has to, so you and Tenko have the backseat to yourself while all three Todorokis jam together up front. Tenko buckles his own seatbelt, but as soon as Touya pulls onto the main road, he unbuckles himself and crawls across the backseat towards you. You retreat, but there’s only so far you can go. “Uh –”

“Guys, he’s climbing on her!” Natsuo’s keeping an eye on you. “Leave her alone!”

Touya meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Need me to pull over?”

You shake your head. Tenko’s settling into the seat next to yours, and he buckles himself again before twisting sideways to face you. He looks awful, and somehow worse than that, he looks scared. You can’t tell if it’s a childish fear or not. Tenko hasn’t left his house in seventeen years – it wouldn’t surprise you if he was agoraphobic. And if you’d just left the only home you’d ever known in flames behind you, you’d be scared, too.

And you remember what Tenko said to you, after you told him what happened to your brother. He probably wasn’t talking to your brother from the beyond. But if the story Touya and the others believe about how Hana and Tenko ended up in the well is true, Tenko knows how it feels to have an older sister who tried to save him. Maybe it’s still okay for you to believe that your brother, wherever he is, feels the same way, too. Tenko didn’t have to give you that, but he did.

You open your arms slightly, and Tenko collapses forward into them, his spiderlike hands grabbing fistfuls of your shirt and hanging on tight. He’s too tall to hide his face in your shoulder, like he seems to want to do. His mouth ends up pressed against your ear instead. “I’m not a doll anymore,” he says. His voice is roughened with smoke, but there’s a softness to it, incongruous enough to make your skin crawl. “I can take care of you, too.”

It could be a child’s innocent insistence on fairness, a man’s confident assertion, a monster’s implicit threat. As Touya’s car speeds down the road, you come to the conclusion that it might be all three at once, and something more – the promise of a lover, sealed by cracked, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

[eimids]

Forgive me

Leah x Reader

Summary: Leah lashes out on reader and then tries to apologize

warnings: Angst, Leah pushes reader physically, fighting, mean Leah, fluffy smut in the end.

"Can you just shut the fuck up, I'm so fucking tired oh your shit like can't you just shut up for a minute," Leah yelled at you.

It was her first game after her ACL injury. The game was against Manchester United and it was making Leah nervous. She obviously wasn't in the starting 11, because it was her first match after a big injury. Luckily she was subbed in quite early on the second half. Arsenal was on the lead with 1-0, Alessia being the one to make the goal.

The game seemed fine to you, but you were wrong. Although Arsenal won, Leah was not happy at all. She stormed off the field when the game ended. leaving everyone surprised by her actions. Everyone, including you, though that she would be celebrating the win and her first game back but no, she just stormed off to the changing room. Her teammates hadn't even come back to the changing room when Leah was already gone.

Leah was mad. She expected her first game back to go perfectly and when it didn't she just lost it. Although to you it seemed like she played well, she didn't think so herself. She couldn't control the ball the way she wanted, and it just didn't feel the same as before. She hated it. She hated the fact that she had been doing rehab for ages just to be worse than before.

You were waiting for her in the car. You saw how she had stormed off and realized that she would probably want to leave as quick as possible.

"What happened baby?" You asked when she hopped inside of the car. Leah didn't answer, she just started driving the usual way back to your apartment.

At home, you tried again. You tried to ask what had happened but she just wasn't having it. So that's how you ended up with her yelling at you. It was rare so it made you cry, you hated it when someone yelled at you.

"Oh for gods sake are you really crying?" Leah was amused.

Leah was never like this towards you and it hurt. Your usually so caring and loving girlfriend was now yelling horrible things to you. Of course you were crying.

"I'm just gonna go" You said with a barely hearble voice.

"Good, please feel free to just get your things and get the fuck away from me" She said and pushed you out of her way. You weren't prepared for it so it made you stumble to the floor.

You saw Leah's face immediately drop. Her angry features were now switched with guilt and concern. Leah never once in your relationship had never used any type of physical violence towards you. Even if this was just a push, it made you worried. Why was your once so loving girlfriend like this.

"Y/n I'm so, so sorry, I didn't-" Leah started but you didn't listen. You just got up from the floor and put your shoes on and with that you were out of the door.

You were crying even more now. You knew that this wasn't your girlfriend. This wasn't the girl you fell in love with. You wanted Leah Williamson back. The same girl who would wake you up with kisses and bring breakfast to bed. The girl who comforted you when you cried. You wanted that Leah back.

You decided to call your and Leah's friend Katie. You knew her the best from the team, since she was at your house every other day.

"Katie, I umm, can I come over" You mumbled to the phone.

Katie could hear that you were crying and left er apartment and came to pic you up. She knew that this was abut Leah. Everyone had seen the way she stormed off of the field and no one on the team were able to contact her ever since. So something must have happened at home.

At your own apartment Leah was quite literally punching the walls. She was angry at herself. How could she let stupid football game come between your relationship. How could she be so mean to you. She didn't even recognize herself from her actions and words. And the fact that she had pushed you.

She couldn't forgive herself for that. He precious girl, you were so innocent, just trying to help Leah but she had pushed you and you fell. You could've gotten hurt.

After a while Leah texted you with apologizes. She also wanted to make sure that you were somewhere safe. Your answer was simple. "I'm at Katie's, gonna need a few days to have some space"

You had explained Katie what happened and she was furious. She wasn't known for having a good temper so she was ready to fight. Although she had known Leah longer, you had quickly became an important part of her life. She wanted to just hold you close and protect you from the world. She didn't like the fact that your own girlfriend had hurt you. The girl who was supposed to protect you.

You stayed few days at Katie's place. It was comfortable and peaceful since Katie was often at training. You had your time to think about what happened. You didn't want to break up because of that but you weren't ready to forgive although Leah tried her best to make you forgive her. She sent flowers to Katie's apartment every day with love letters and apologizes. She wanted to give you the space that you had asked for but she also wanted to show that she cared and wanted to fix things.

'I know that some flowers won't undo what I did but I just wanted to apologize to my beautiful girl. I don't know what got into me but I hate myself for what I did. I never should have lashed out on you. I was just really upset that I couldn't play the way I wanted but I never should've taken it out on you that way. And it's not an excuse for my actions. I love you my sweetie and I hope that you can forgive me soon'

That was one of the letters that Leah had sent you and after four days at Katie's, you were ready to face Leah again. You asked for Katie to drop you off to your apartment. She didn't like how you were forgiving Leah so easily but it wasn't her business.

When you arrived back at your home, you were hesitant to go in. You didn't even know if Leah would be there, at least she didn't have practice. You opened the door with your key and walked inside. It smelled like Leah and it made you smile a little. You had missed your girlfriends scent. The apartment was cleaned, you knew that Leah had been stress cleaning.

"Leah?" You carefully asked.

Leah appeared from your bedroom. She was shocked to see you. She though that you hated her and would never want to see her again after what happened. But she was happy to be wrong. She took a few steps towards you, not wanting to startle you.

"Baby.." She just whispered.

"I am so sorry for what I did. I never should have yelled at you or pushed you. It was so wrong for me to do that and I don't have any excuse for myself. I shouldn't have done it and I regret it with every bode in my body" Leah started her apology but didn't get far before you crushed her in a hug. Leah was taken by a surprise but didn't mind.

"Never do that again and I will forgive you" You mumbled to her chest.

"I promise to you. I will never hurt you ever again my sweet girl" She answered sincerely.

"Mm Leah" You whispered against her lips.

"Let me show you how sorry I am. Let me make you feel good baby" Leah whispered back.

With that you were in the bedroom. Your clothes long forgotten on the floor.

"My sweet sweet girl" Leah mumbled while kissing down your body.

She wanted to make you feel good. She kept praising you and you enjoyed the sweet words.

"My y/n, you are so good to me" She said before diving to your wetness.

She ate you out happily. Every now and then, whispering sweet nothing to you. Lapping your juices and circling your clit. It was all you needed and more. Leah knew how to work your body just the right way. She teased your hole with her tongue before dipping it in which made you moan loudly.

"I'm so sorry sweet, I promise to be better girlfriend for you from now on" She said and then kept going. She was not in any rush, wanting to draw those beautiful moans from your mouth.

She kept praising you and eating you out. Happily drowning between your legs where she loved to be. And when your orgasm took over you, she made sure to keep going during that. All she wanted was to worship your body.

You finally had your Leah back.

[jellyfishsthings]

Request: Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Plot: Remus and reader studying together while she sits on his lap, but she realizes she wants him and grinds on him while he tries to work

WARNINGS: smut, shy insecure Reader, Remus helping in his unique way ....

I changed the plot a little bit ...

The soft sound of the needle scratching the vinyl filled the room. All the songs have come to an end and Remus and I didn't even notice we had been too engrossed in our studies. Or more likely he was and I was simply staring at him. He was scrunching up his nose and poking his tongue out every time he tried to understand something. He seemed good and happy. That was when you decided to attack him. You quickly climbed over him and straddled his lap, before placing kisses on his neck.

For god’s sake, he thought. You looked so beautiful taking charge of him and making him writhe like this. This wasn't something that he would usually indulge in but if it meant that you would kiss him senseless and drive the breath clean out of him he was all in. You didn’t usually climb on top of your boyfriend to attack him with senseless kisses of your own accord, usually, it was the opposite. It was a magnificent change for him, one he welcomed with open arms.

“Whoa,” Remus took a sharp breath, wrapping an arm around your waist as you bucked your hips against him. “Dove, may I ask what …. what brought this—ah—on?”

“No, not really” you muttered against his collarbones as you grabbed his loosened tie to crush your lips to his. You knew that your newfound confidence and control wouldn't last long, Remus would quickly seek a way to turn things around.

“You’re going to be the death— of me.” Remus stuttered, feeling sweat lining all over his body. you were a vixen under the guise of a proper girl. He supposed he already knew that but tonight drove the fact home. If he were, to be honest, to be honest, he liked you this way better. Your sailor's mouth and timid confidence were facts about you that he only seemed to know. He felt powerful that way because he could keep you from the world.

He was a mess of swollen lips, heavily panting under your hands. And Godrick, now you were trailing sloppy kisses down his chest, and then too near to his crotch, that had been his last straw before grabbing your hips in a tight hold, turning you around, and spreading your legs. He positioned one of his thighs, letting you rest your wait there as you started moving back and forth. He stilled you with a commanding hand.

“How about a game? You answer my questions correctly, you get fucked like the good girl I know you are. Otherwise …” He let his voice fade and you were tempted to answer one of his questions wrong, just for the fun of it. Just to see how far he could go this time. He would never hurt you, not really. He was too much of a sweetheart for that.

“What if I don't want to, Professor?” You said with a sultry voice. And he playfully rolled his eyes at you.

“Do not tease me, you minx.” He said in your ear before bouncing his leg harshly, and a gasp let you at the sudden movement and pressure in your clit. “Now let's start shall we?”

You nodded so fast that you knocked the back of your head to his nose. Every time you answered correctly he rubbed your clit in harsh tight circles. Every time you answered wrong he bounced his leg while he kept you in place. Your head had been working overtime to try to even think of an answer without even caring about its correctness. Either way, the pleasure you got from simply answering was more than enough to drive you crazy.

Your head had been spinning once he stopped moving. His voice didn't sound any longer, the only sound that sounded in the room was your heavy labored breathing. He placed a sweet kiss on your pulse point before he turned you around once again. A wicked grin was plastered on his face as he slipped inside of you. You haven't even registered the sound of him lowering his pants. Your legs wrapped around his chair as an anchor, his thrusts were so hard and so deed that you bounced with their force, and your hips were pressed flush against his. He buried his head into your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat as your softness enveloped him in more places than one. All thoughts about his friends burging into the room flew out of his head as his whole world redacted into you.

Stuttered breathing reached his ears as your muffled voice called out to him to stop, to never stop, and muttered his name with colorful names. He absolutely loved it when you lost control and cursed him for what he did to you. No one would know that his sweet girl loved to be fucked harshly to the point where youwas nothing but his fuck toy. Without warning you fell over the edge and he tried to remove his head from your embrace to admire your beauty. Your cheeks were flushed and tears slipped from your eyes as he came inside of you.

He pressed kisses on your forehead trying to calm you down, gathered into his arms. He was still deep inside of you and you rolled your hips against his. What you were trying to chase he didn't know, but he let you, curiosity got the best of him. Soon he was hard inside you again but he collected all of his willpower to let you take charge you had earned it. You whined his name pathetically, begging him to please just fuck you. He felt cruel and maybe he was, but you had to start claiming what you deserved without his help, even from him.

You got the hang of it pretty quickly and he was glad to praise his smart girl. Your legs were quivering around him, barely able to keep your weight. Just when they were about to give out he grabbed the back of your thighs helping you lift your weight but doing nothing else. He was leaking inside of you, you were doing the best job and he told you as much. A few minutes after you both tipped over the edge and this time he removed himself from you and positioned you back on his thigh. Without missing a beat you started riding his leg and he felt his eyes roll to the back of his head. It was going to be a long night for the two of you, he knew that because from the moments you looked at him with those eyes and with that pout on your lips, he was unapologetically wrapped around your finger.

words: a little of over 1.100

[bluecollarmcandtf]

"Dude, I took over your dad's body.."

"...and goddamn is there a lot of him to work with! I've been a ghost for years now, but I've never been inside a 6' 3" ex-linebacker! I've been checking him out all afternoon, and let me tell you that this man is big and hairy all over," he punctuates his comment with a wink.

Your dad, the man you've looked up to your entire life, is saying things you don't want to think about while casually laying on the couch in nothing but a robe and booty shorts. The urge to puke is suppressed, but you know that Jimmy has crossed a line here. Your deceased friend has possessed bullies, professors, and more, but he's never had the balls to take over your own family. What was he thinking?

"I jumped into him while he was at work. I think his coworkers probably found it strange when I picked up his briefcase and waddled his ass out the door," Jimmy chuckles at the memory, "But don't worry. Your old man had plenty of sick days he wasn't gonna use."

It doesn't take long for you to burst out in anger at the spirit controlling your father. Your face is hot, and you can't stand to watch your dad get puppetted around like a fool!

"Calm the fuck down!" he swears uncharacteristically, "Give this big guy a hug. Come here. Daddy needs some love..."

The thought of hugging your father while he's being forced to act like this feels wrong, but you relent. A part of you is glad for the embrace. It might not actually be your dad, but paternal comfort is exactly what you need right now, and your real dad isn't the type to give his child a hug.

"That's it, son," Jimmy pets your head with your father's thick hands, "Let daddy take care of you. Let your dumb old fart-of-a-father give you some much-needed attention."

You can't help but chuckle at the self-deprecating joke. Your real dad was too proud to laugh at himself, and he'd never made an effort to be anything other than distant and formal with you. In fact, there was a lot your real dad would never do; he'd never leave the office in the middle of the day, he'd never lay around the house like a lazy bum, and he'd certainly never let his hairy chest and thick legs be on full display in front of his disappointing gay son.

Suddenly, while still embraced, you realize there's something poking into your waist.

"Sorry, dude," your father whispers in your ear, "I guess your dad is just happy to see you."

You push him away, insisting that Jimmy needs to stay out of family members' bodies because this just feels so wrong! You search the pair of unnaturally blank eyes for any sign that Jimmy might be listening to you.

"You need to relax, bro," your dad (Jimmy) groans in annoyance. He looks disappointed, but then he sparks up and gives you a new look of excitement. "Son," he says with exaggerated machismo, "Take a page from my book and learn to chill out. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about you or me. I'll prove it to you..."

With a placid grin and blank gaze, your father lumbers past and marches straight out the front door of the house. You're almost too stunned to follow. Was Jimmy really going to parade your dad's body around the neighborhood in nothing but his robe?

"Afternoon, neighbor," your father's rumbling tone bellows across the street, "Lovely weather, today. My son thought I should take my fat hairy gut for a little stroll in the sun. You know us dads have got to keep our boys happy. Am I right?"

Mr. Jones stares at your father from his porch, just as shocked as you are. He often drank beers with this man and every other neighborhood dad at backyard barbecues and living room game watches. This was not how he normally interacted with the man, and it obviously struck him as weird.

"You alright, Bob?" he asks hesitantly.

"Right as rain, neighbor!" Jimmy answers with a tone that's too goofy to pass as my dad's, "If that's how you're staring at me now, I wonder what'll happen if I take this robe off..."

Before Mr. Jones can process the flirtation in your father's voice, you shuffle your dad further down the street and away from the whole interaction. That may have been hilarious, but Jimmy was going to destroy any reputation and respect your father had around here!

You demand to know where Jimmy is going with this body. It's not like you have any ability to even slow the ghost down when he's got the weight and strength of your 200 lb father.

"I'm thinking the park. Your dad could use some cardio," he smirks, an unfamiliar expression on the grown man's face, "Or maybe the public bathroom on the north end. You know, it has that hole in the stall..."

No amount of reasoning or arguments can change Jimmy's mind. Apparently he's set on wearing your father to the city's most notorious gay hookup spot.

"Don't look at me like that," his gravelly voice sounds amused by your frustration, "With me in charge, your dad will be the dirtiest slut that bathroom's ever seen. Don't you think it'll be funny to see such a massive, manly bear serving man after man in there?"

You sigh in disbelief.

"Or...maybe I don't have to rent out your dad's body to a bunch of strangers..."

You wonder where he's going with this. It sounds like an ultimatum is coming, and you don't like the idea of your crazy dead friend giving you an ultimatum.

"...your dad could hold off on bottoming for strangers...if...you let him be your submissive little bitch."

The choice is an annoying one, but you're pretty sure you can't let your dad have unprotected sex with strangers in a public place. This is what he'd want right?

"That's what I thought," the grin on your father's face twists maniacally. He tussles your hair like he's the proudest dad in the world, "Let's head on back home, buddy. Daddy's gonna lick every inch of sweat off that body of yours. He's got years of emotional absence to make up for."

One of his beefy arms cradles your back and turns you around. You're relieved to no longer be headed towards the public bathroom, but you're still a little nervous about what awaits you at home. How does Jimmy expect you to enjoy any of this when it's your dad doing all these things to you?

"Daddy's gonna treat you to a night that's all about you," he goes on, "Cooking you dinner, rubbing your feet, cuddling on the couch, and so much more. I want you to think of some humiliating things daddy can do for you while we walk back. Make sure they're extra degrading or your dad will just have to step out of the house and degrade himself where the entire city can see..."

The last comment gives you butterflies in your stomach, but it also gives you a bit of a hard-on. Maybe Jimmy playing with your dad wasn't so scary of an idea after all. With him possessed, anything was on the table: personal affirmations, some much needed bonding, roleplay, revenge, humiliation. Heck, you could even give your father a golden shower and Jimmy would have him smiling through it!

Walking home, you steal glances at your dad, towering over you as his rotund gut leads the way. Home can't come fast enough!

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven: Part 4

Part 1 2 3

Homelander x Psychiatrist!AFAB!Reader Content⚠️: This does have smut. Masturbation, mentions of oral sex, light fingering, hand job, praise kink, very light implications of edging, penis in vagina.

Your meetings with Homelander continue as normal. You've made it clear that if he doesn't comply with your boundaries, he will be transferred to a new psychiatrist, and he has done well to stay within the professional boundaries.

"Tell me about how you grew up, Doctor," Homelander says. He is looking out of your office window with his hands behind his back.

"I'm not able to discuss that. Boundaries, remember?" you say sternly to avoid leading him on. He scoffs, irritated.

"It's always these fucking boundaries. Always with the red tape with you. I'm the strongest supe in the world; there aren't any boundaries I can't break or cross." That gives you an idea of what mood he is in. Did Stan put him in his place, or was it Madelyn this time? Either way, he always brings up that he's the strongest supe out there and that he can do what he wants when one of those two has upset him.

"Is something specific bothering you today?" you ask, ignoring his comment.

"Maeve broke up with me. Madelyn is cooking up some story for the public." He takes a sharp breath in. "Maeve didn't like that I was sleeping with other women, but she wasn't giving me what I needed. Sure, we had sex, but neither of us was interested in it. And for the past months, you've let me be me when no one else will." He stutters a few times during his speech. He turns to look at you. Homelander expects you to say something.

"Did Maeve say why she broke it off? You two were together for a while," you ask, not wanting to encourage poor habits.

"I said we weren't interested in the sex we were having. I'm a man; I have needs," he plainly says, as if the fact he was cheating is normal and okay. Most people would assume Homelander is shallow for cheating, but it's clear there's more to it. Unfortunately, sex isn't something you could ask Homelander about because that could give him the wrong impression.

"I would say most potential romantic partners wouldn't be too happy about your needs being fulfilled by other people," you tell him to let him know you're condemning his unfaithful behavior.

He scoffs. "Please, any woman would be lucky to have me." Homelander stares at you for a second. He's studying you; maybe he's x-raying you or trying to notice any subtle changes.

"Problem?" you question.

"No-no. I just… was thinking." Homelander can't tell you he wants to crash his lips onto yours. He can't say that he wants to feel up your breasts and get you out of that blouse you wear all the time. He can't say that he wants to pull you close and then fuck you on your desk. He knows he would cum fast being inside you for the first time, but Homelander also knows you'd be just as satisfied, if not more. Homelander can't tell you that your arousal smells so strong to him he can practically taste it.

Homelander suddenly leaves. He has to get away from you. He flies high into the sky, passing the area where a plane would be flying. In the sky, he feels alone. Homelander breathes in. He wonders if you'd ever trust him to bring you this high where only true gods can be. Of course, Homelander would make sure you're safe. He would take you high enough that the thin air was a thrill for you. He slides his pants around his thighs. Not enough for them to fall off, but enough for him to have access to his dick that's been hard since you condemned him for cheating on Maeve. You could be so stern but such a fucking tease.

Homelander begins to stroke himself. He starts slow, making sure his hand isn't wrapped too tightly. You're in his mind right now; he knows you'd be so slow with your strokes. You'd tell him how good he was doing the longer he could keep it together. Homelander strokes faster. He has no control to keep going slow, but you would. Your soft touches and soft praises would drive him crazy; they would drive him over the edge.

He says your name; he sounds like he's begging. "Please," he says with an almost pained expression. Homelander needs you, but his hand will have to do for now. The stimulation from his hand and the way you plague his mind are too much, and his cum shoots into the sky.

Homelander feels a lot of different emotions upon his release. You should be fucking begging him to even glance at you. He feels somewhat pathetic being so under your thumb. He feels fucking pissed because the semen he just shot so high in the sky should have been on your breasts, face, or somewhere inside you, not falling worthlessly to the earth. You should be the one begging for his attention the way he begged you to let him cum in his fantasy.

Homelander flies back to his penthouse. He feels more determined than ever to have you in all the ways he wants you. Maeve is no longer holding him back from a real relationship, and Madelyn wouldn't be upset because she seems to like you. After his abrupt exit, Homelander doesn't visit you for any more appointments that week.

The following week arrives, and you have yet to see Homelander anywhere. You're leaving a session with another client when you walk into your lobby and see the prettiest bouquet of your favorite flowers. A card with your name proudly sticks out. Your receptionist is gone, and the lobby is empty.

"Your receptionist almost refused to tell me what your favorite flowers were. I guess she wasn't willing to die to keep your secret," Homelander says, sounding playful, walking out of the men's restroom and effectively startling you. "I just heard that little heart of yours jump."

"Homelander, this is crossing a boundary," you say, trying to sound stern, but the shakiness of your voice tells Homelander that you're nervous.

"Enough with the fucking boundaries. I'm tired of being a fucking patient and having to throw a tantrum every time I want you to look at me. I'm not your patient anymore. I dropped you. Now, we can have what we have both been wanting." He circles you like you're his prey. "Your receptionist is out for the day. I told her you canceled your other appointments so that I could have my time with you. And then I had her send out that automated email to those psychos you insist on surrounding yourself with." He seems proud of himself, as if he's accomplished something huge, and now you cannot deny him what he wants.

"What makes you think I'm even interested in you?" you ask him with a glare.

"Don't be like that. Even right now, I can smell how aroused you are. If I left right now, you'd probably scamper home and immediately spend the night with that pink vibrator in between your legs." Homelander has such a love-hate relationship with that thing. He's watched you use it a lot, and you're moaning his name most of the time, but that toy isn't him, so he hates it.

You blush, but not in an attractive way, either. Your whole face heats up. "How do you know about that?" you ask, exasperated.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you want me to fuck you. Tell me that you're not attracted to me. Tell me that you wouldn't be opposed to me fucking you in your office right now. Say you don't, and I'll leave you alone about it." Homelander has no intention of leaving you alone, no matter your response.

You stay quiet, avoiding his gaze. You suddenly walk into your office. He follows. "God, you're such an ass!" you tell him. Homelander presses himself against you and presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He's desperate, and that makes it hard to go slow. You reciprocate and match the desperation. He doesn't taste like anything, which is a testament to how clean Homelander likes to be in his everyday life. You, on the other hand, are sweet. His hand quickly finds your breasts as if you'd decided to take them away. Homelander breaks the kiss.

"Your blouse is in the way. So is your bra." He quickly removes your top clothing that had become a hindrance. His hands are nimble, but the cold leather of his gloves is ruining the moment.

"Can you take off your gloves?" you ask. Homelander doesn't hesitate to lose them, and his bare hands are now able to feel the warmth of your breasts. Your nipples are pointed. That's a good sign. He dips his head, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips can land on your breasts. One of his hands finds its way to rest on your hand.

"I'm ready for you," you tell him breathlessly. Your cunt is soaked from the reaction Homelander is giving.

"You're delicious. I've been desperate to fuck you since I walked into your office." He drops his pants but pointedly leaves the top half of his super suit on. He trusts you, but he still isn't comfortable showing you the parts of him that he's most embarrassed about. He pulls your skirt and panties off and immediately rubs slow circles around your clit. He watches your face, trying to decipher if you're enjoying that movement.

"I like that. Keep going. You're doing so well," you encourage Homelander. He guides your hand to his hard cock, and just like he imagined, your strokes are slow. He could cum in your hand so easily if you would just go a little faster.

Before either of you can cum, he flips you over and shoves you down into the desk. Homelander tries to be gentle, but he's so eager to be inside you. You spread your legs a little more to give him better access. He begins thrusting in and out of your wet cunt.

"You feel so good. It feels better than I imagined," Homelander groans out, enjoying the feeling of your body being wrapped around his. His hands explore your bare back. His thrusts begin to become more hasty and desperate.

"I can feel that you're close," you tell him breathily. You can't see it, but Homelander's face turns red. He is embarrassed that you haven't come yet, and he's almost at the edge of his orgasm.

Homelander throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to wait." He wants to tell you that you feel that good and that even if he does finish before you, he will make sure you reach the same heights of pleasure.

"It's okay, you're doing well." You reach around to find his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Homelander leans down and pulls you up so your back is pressed into his chest. He wants to be touching you as much as possible while he cums. Homelander's face finds the crook of your neck. He breathes in your smell. He wants to remember it forever, the smell of your natural scent mixed with his scent and both your arousal and his. Homelander hugs you tightly from behind, and with a sharp breath in and a following moan that's muffled by your skin, he's finished inside of you.

Homelander doesn't move for a moment. He wants to stay like this, to savor you in case you disappear as you had done so many times before in his intimate moments alone.

Homelander lets go of you and pulls out. You turn around and notice the tears streaking his face. He's not crying and doesn't seem to notice the tears. "Wow, that was intense," you tell him, sensing that it would be better not to point out the tear gloss on his cheeks.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet, little lady," he says, trying to sound confident. You wonder if that "little lady" bit is his attempt to remind himself and you that he's in charge. Before you can bring it up, Homelander pushes you back up on the desk, and his head is dipping between your legs.

He certainly was not done with you. Homelander made sure that you enjoyed yourself in that office, and as you leave your office, you wonder what this means for your relationship. This wasn't a regular hookup. It couldn't be after the visceral reaction Homelander had during his first orgasm when he so desperately clung to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander was already waiting at your apartment. He was going to show you the other benefits of his affection.

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