#through eerie chaos

[theficpusher]

My Little Poet by Thingssicant | G | 1861 Louis is a librarian and someone keeps ruining his books

don't be shy, i'm your guy by winterPearls | nr | 4658 "...Harry wondered if this pixie of a boy with crinkles by his long lashed eyes had a personality as addictive and loud as his laugh that reverberated around the otherwise silent library..." or AU where Harry is a cute librarian that really likes one of the boys that is a regular and he just wants to talk to him but he's shy and it's cute honestly i just suck at summarizing

Just Jump by jaerie | E | 9748 Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang. “Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Record Your Fate (and Write Me In) by LadyLondonderry | T | 13012 Harry is the Archivist, it's his job to record what happens in the universe. He's only a few days into the job when things take an odd turn. Suddenly, the small blue eyed boy seems more important than writing about crowning dignitaries.

If the Surface Begs You Home by QuickedWeen | T | 17752 Harry is a mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Mercadia who is a little too fascinated by life above the surface. He's kicked out of his home after he winds up pregnant, and has to figure out how to make his way in the world. Louis is the darling of the small neighbouring seaside village who came home after university to take over their local library, and can't seem to stay away from the mysterious pregnant mermaid his friends introduce him to.

Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by InsightfulInsomniac | E | 19965 When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep? It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine. Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

The Library Universe [Series] by allwaswell16 | E | 33825 Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring. But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have.

i was yours (i wish you were mine) by staybeautiful | E | 56283 “Harry Styles!” His name rang out clear through the city streets. He turned quickly back to the bar, startled by his own name and startled by the voice that called him. Standing in the doorway to the bar, back lit and glowing slightly was Louis. Not an eighteen year old apparition dressed in the same low slung blue jeans and t-shirt with swooping bangs that was always the image in his mind. No, he was Louis now. or Ten years ago Harry dropped his best friend and high school boyfriend off at the train station and never saw him again. Now, he's twenty seven, living in NYC, and dreadfully unlucky in love. He can't stop wistfully thinking of Louis promising that they'd see each other again in ten years time. A chance meeting outside a bar has them tumbling head first into a summer of music, milkshakes, and maybe each other.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore | G | 102104 For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

[kwgjficrecs]

Through Eerie Chaos I MediaWhore I G I 102K

KWGJ Score: 9.5/10

Fantasy

Ghost Hunters

Supernatural Elements

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

KWGJ Says:

You know when you read a really good story and it just stays with you for days, weeks and months afterwards? Like, there is literally no reason I should keep thinking about this fic months after initially reading it, but here we are and this is what's up. It's so well written, of course how could it not be with MediaWhore at the helm? I loved the mystery that you had to solve, the journey MW takes you on yet again, and the subsequent ending. Delicious. This fic is screaming out for more attention, so please don't hesitate to check it out!

Link to Through Eerie Chaos here

Check out @mediawhorefics on Tumblr!

Link to KWGC Fic Rec Masterlist here

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Authors! Hit me up with your new fics, I would love to read and rec!

Readers! If you're looking for something specific, I'd love to know and help! DM me or get in touch on anon!

[oshen26]

through eerie chaos—or just another masterpiece by @mediawhorefics

[peeballz69]

I WASNT ACTIVE THIS WEEK BUT IM BACK🔥🔥🔥🔥 I was in diss knee world and now I’m home so TAKE THIS ART OF A CHARACTER FROM A SHOW AND BOOK IM CREATING!!!! HIS NAME IS PEPPER COLLINS (PEP FOR SHORT) AND HES SILLY!!!! I drew this on my phone vertically on an airplane so if there’s any mistakes that’s prob why

[likearagingroar]

.

[reilemon]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Possession 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

♡︎ synopsis: You move into an abandoned mansion looking for a fresh start. Little did you know you're not the only one living there.

♡︎ pairing: demon!Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: restraints, corruption (if you squint), breathplay

♡︎ word count: 10k

♡︎ a/n: the fourth story for kinktober 2024.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

The night wraps around you like a vice, pressing down on your skin. Every breath feels heavier than the last as the low, eerie hum seeps into your bones. The melody is fractured, broken, sung by something that doesn’t understand human warmth. It’s wrong, so wrong, and the more you hear it, the harder it is to pretend that everything is normal.

You sit up in bed, the silk of your nightgown sticking to your skin, cold sweat beading along your neck and back. You strain your ears to listen, catching every sound the house makes—the creak of floorboards, the low groan of the wind clawing at the windows. But beneath it, that humming persists, growing clearer.

A footstep.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something is walking—no, pacing—just beyond your bedroom door, almost as though it knows you're listening.

You tell yourself, ‘this is ridiculous’. You’ve lived here almost two weeks, nothing dangerous has happened.

Two weeks living in this forgotten, decaying mansion. At first, the isolation felt like a cure, a place where you could finally breathe after years of soul-sucking work. The realtor had been so eager to sell it. You remember that first visit—dust motes swirling in the dim afternoon light, the scent of mildew hanging in the air. The long-abandoned estate was priced absurdly low for such a massive property. You had asked about its history, about the family that owned it. “Old money,” the realtor said dismissively. “They never even lived here, not really. They’re eager to get rid of it.”

You pressed her—why would they abandon a mansion like this? She’d shrugged, evasive. “Just one of those things, you know? Big house, lots of upkeep. Not practical anymore.” She'd forced a smile, deflecting. “People want something more modern these days.”

At the time, you didn’t care. You wanted solitude, escape, a place to start over after the chaos of your previous life.

In the first week, you brushed off the oddities. The strange cold spots in the halls, the faint scent of smoke that seemed to come from nowhere, the occasional flickering of the old lights. You reasoned ‘the house is just old, settling’. Maybe it was the stress from the move, or just the overwhelming quiet after years of city life.

But then, things became harder to dismiss.

You remember waking up one night to the sound of soft whispers, like voices just beyond your door. You convinced yourself it was a dream, that you were still half-asleep, that your mind was playing tricks on you. But when you opened the door, the hall was filled with an icy draft, despite every window being locked tight. Your skin prickled with the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

With every night, your paranoia has grown. You’ve stopped sleeping through the night. Every creak, every gust of wind outside feels like a threat. The humming has become a nightly occurrence —soft at first, almost melodic, but it twists, becomes distorted. And tonight, the footsteps. They’re louder. Closer.

You sit there for too long, your mind racing. Each beat of your heart pounds in your throat as you try to summon some logic to ground you. ‘There has to be an explanation’. You’re not some helpless woman in a cliché horror movie. You won’t let fear consume you.

But the footsteps stop, right outside the door. And in that moment, the air feels too thick to breathe.

Fuck.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the cold floor shocking against your bare feet, dragging you out of paralysis. The silk robe slides over your shoulders, its fabric a poor defense against the dread crawling up your spine. You move slowly, the wooden floor beneath you creaking with each step toward the door. Your fingers hover over the handle for a moment, hesitation making your hand shake.

‘It’s just a draft’, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. ‘Just the old house’.

You open the door. You swallow, flipping the light switch with a trembling hand, lighting the empty hallway. The old bulbs buzz and flicker before casting their weak glow, but the light feels sickly. You take a deep breath, forcing your legs to move, fingers brushing along the wall as though the contact will somehow steady you. With every step, the hum grows fainter, retreating deeper into the house, drawing you further from the safety of your room.

The sitting room’s light flickers as you pass, casting distorted shapes along the walls. The silence between the hums stretches, amplifying the creaks and groans of the house around you.

The dining room is next. You hesitate at the threshold, your breath hitching as the light stutters overhead, threatening to plunge you into darkness again. But it holds, if only just. The hum is still distant, still teasing, but now there's something else—something heavier beneath it. A low, barely audible rasping breath, like the sound of something alive, breathing with you.

Your hand grazes the light switch to the kitchen, fingers trembling. The moment the light flares to life, it dies.

The room plunges into complete darkness. A thick, suffocating blackness that feels like it’s crawling over your skin. Your pulse spikes, cold panic flooding your veins. The hum is gone now—replaced by the unmistakable feeling that something is in there, waiting, watching.

A faint whisper—right next to your ear, soft and malicious—sends a scream clawing up your throat, but you bite it back, too terrified to make a sound.

‘Move. Move, now.’

You stumble backward. The floor seems to shift beneath you as you flee towards the stairs. You crash into the bedroom, your breath ragged, chest heaving. You slam the door shut with a resounding thud, and the thin wood feels too fragile, too weak to keep anything out. You press your back against it, gripping the doorknob with trembling fingers, your raging heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You stand there, frozen, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing does. No footsteps, no whispers, no movement beyond the door. Just stillness.

You exhale, forcing yourself to unclench your hands from the doorknob, willing your body to stop shaking. ‘Get a grip’, you tell yourself, trying to suppress the waves of panic that threaten to consume you. You're not going to lose your mind over this. ‘It's just the stress. That’s all.’ The isolation, the strangeness of living alone in such a vast, decrepit place—it’s been messing with your head. You force your breathing to slow, sucking in deep, calming gulps of air.

Pushing away from the door, you cross the room and sit on the bed, retreating back into the sheets. It’s late—too late to do anything about it now—but in the morning, you’ll change every lock in this mansion. No more creaky doors, no more unlocked windows. You’ll seal every inch of this place if you have to. And you’ll call Tara. She’d laugh at you at first, no doubt. She teased you for choosing to live in such a remote, old house. "You’re gonna end up starring in one of those haunted house stories," she'd said, half-joking. You smile weakly, despite the dread gnawing at your gut. It’s time to take her up on her offer to visit. Tomorrow, you’ll call her.

Lying back on the bed, you try to focus on the plan—changing locks, calling Tara. You’ll handle this like you handle everything. The house creaks softly, as if responding to your newfound resolve. You ignore it, pulling the sheets up over your face, the fabric cool against your skin. ‘Sleep’, you tell yourself. ‘You need sleep’.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The next day arrives sluggishly. You barely slept through the night, but daylight always brings a faint sense of hope. You push yourself out of bed, running through the motions, pretending for a moment that everything is normal.

Tara arrives just after lunch. You open the front door for her, her playful smile greeting you. But it quickly fades when her eyes catch the tension in your shoulders, the dullness of your skin. "You look like hell." You want to make a joke or a clever comeback in return, but the weight of the last two weeks presses too heavily on you. So you just let her in. You’ve told her over the phone this morning already, but now you tell her everything in more detail. You tell her about the footsteps, the humming, the cold spots. How the house doesn’t feel right.

"Okay," Tara says after a moment, her brows furrowing. "I’m not saying I believe in all that, but I’ve read enough ghost stories to know we don’t mess around with this kind of thing. I brought something." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bundle of sage. "We’ll burn this. Clears out bad energy, or at least it’s supposed to. Couldn’t hurt, right?"

You stare at the bundle for a moment, feeling both ridiculous and relieved. Maybe it’s silly, but she is right, it can’t hurt to try. "Thanks," you mutter, trying to smile.

"And I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows a good priest," Tara adds, her tone light again, though you can hear the genuine concern beneath it. "Someone could come over and bless the place, right? If nothing else, it’ll give you peace of mind."

You nod, though part of you still feels absurd for even considering it. Together, you and Tara walk through the house, lighting the sage. The oppressive weight that has been weighting you down lifts, just slightly. The creaking stops, the cold spots seem to fade, and for the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe.

"See? Not so bad," Tara says, giving you a reassuring smile. "It already feels better in here. Maybe that’s all it needed—some good ol’ sage and positive vibes."

You nod, grateful, feeling a spark of hope. Maybe this is all it took. Maybe that’s the end of it.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

That night, you follow your routine, trying to remain calm. You lock every door, check every window, twice, and make sure nothing is out of place. By the time you slip into bed, you’re exhausted. You lie there in the dark, the cool sheets against your skin, your eyes slowly fluttering closed.

But in the depths of the mansion, something stirs. The energy has changed, shifted. The air hums with a barely-contained agitation, a dark presence swirling in the corners, crawling through the walls. It had been watching you, waiting. And now, with the sage burned and the mention of a priest, it’s no longer content to simply watch.

A sound pulls you back from the edge of sleep. You freeze, straining to listen. At first, it’s faint, like distant laughter. It’s low, dark, amused, seeping through the room as though it’s mocking your very presence here. You sit up abruptly, your pulse spiking. The laugh is gone, but the air feels colder now. The wind outside picks up, slapping against the windows, and then—you hear it. A loud, sharp caw. A crow’s cry, shrill and eerie, slicing through the still night air. You turn your head toward the window, expecting to see its shape perched on the sill, but there’s nothing there, just the empty darkness beyond the glass.

‘It’s just a bird’, you tell yourself. ‘Just a bird’.

But then the footsteps start again.

They’re louder this time. Not like before when you could pretend it was just the old floorboards shifting. No, these are deliberate. Heavy. The distinct sound of boots on wood, moving slowly down the hallway outside your bedroom. Each step echoes through the house, growing louder, closer, until they stop right outside your door. You can feel your pulse in your throat, every instinct screaming at you to stay in bed, to not make a sound. But the silence is oppressive. You can’t just lie here anymore. You push yourself up on shaky legs, feet hitting the cold floor as you move toward the door, your hand hovering over the knob like before. But this time, you don’t need to open it.

The door swings open on its own.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything is still. The dark hallway stretches before you, stretching into nothingness. But then, at the far end, you see it—a faint, flickering glow. A dim, blood-red light. It pulses, stronger with each passing second, growing brighter, sharper. Your chest tightens as the glow intensifies. You swallow hard, a cold sweat forming on the back of your neck as the realization hits you that this—whatever it is—isn’t something you can ignore.

“Who… who are you?” you stammer, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”

The red glow flickers, focusing on you. You feel it in the air around you. The presence you’ve been denying, the thing that’s been watching, waiting. Now you’ve acknowledged it. It begins to solidify, drawing closer. The figure takes form—broad shoulders, a tall, towering frame. And then, his face. Sharp, defined features, red eyes, and silver hair. His gaze locks onto you, and it feels like he’s peering into the deepest, darkest parts of your soul.

You stumble back, heart racing, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing. This can’t be real. This has to be some nightmare. But he’s there, standing before you, fully formed—real.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says, his voice deep.

You stand frozen, every inch of you trembling. This isn’t some ghost story, some figment of your imagination. You take a step back, your legs weak, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. “W-waiting for what?” you manage to choke out, though your voice barely rises above a whisper.

His smirk widens. “For you to understand,” he says softly, his tone almost condescending. He takes a step closer and the floor creaks under the weight of his boots, the sound amplified in the eerie silence of the mansion. “This place… it’s mine. Always has been.”

You stumble backward again, your mind racing, desperate for some way to rationalize this. But you can’t. The thing standing in front of you isn’t human. “I don’t understand,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

He laughs softly at that, a low, dark chuckle. “I am not the intruder here,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “You are.” His eyes narrow, the humor fading, replaced with a cold, hard edge. “This house, this mansion, has been mine for centuries. I’ve seen generations come and go, trying to claim it as their own.”

You’re barely holding on, fear coursing through you. “Who… who are you?” you ask again, though now your voice is almost a plea.

He leans in, his face close enough now that you can smell the faint scent of something burning, something ancient. “I am Sylus. This house… my house… it’s been mine longer than you can imagine. And you—" His gaze sharpens. "You’ve been tampering with things you shouldn’t."

He steps back. "I’ll give you a chance. Pack your things. Leave." His words are like a command, absolute, and it makes your chest tighten.

Something in you snaps.

The fear, the dread that’s been building for days—it all crashes into something else, something raw and angry. You clench your fists. Leave? After everything? You’ve fought too hard to be told to just give up.

"No," you say, your voice trembling, though whether it’s from fear or anger, you’re not sure. His smirk widens, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as if amused by your defiance. "No?" he repeats, the word dripping with condescension, as though your resistance is nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him.

But you’re not done. "It’s not fair," you continue, and you can feel the flood of emotions you’ve been holding back surging forward. "I worked for this. You don’t get to tell me to leave!" Your voice rises, trembling with frustration. You can feel your eyes burning with unshed tears. "I can’t just… pack up and go?! This place was supposed to be my fresh start!"

Sylus’ amusement falters. He was expecting fear. Submission. Not this. Not the raw emotion pouring out of you.

You take a shaky breath, your words tumbling out now unfiltered. "I’ve given up everything! My life was a wreck before I came here. I had no friends, no purpose, nothing.” Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t stop, the anger blending with exhaustion. "This place was supposed to be my dream," you whisper, your voice cracking. "And now you’re telling me to leave? After everything I’ve been through?”

Sylus says nothing for a long moment. He stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost suffocating, the mocking air that surrounded him fading as something shifts in his expression. His tail, once flicking in amusement, goes still. He opens his mouth, perhaps to laugh, to mock you again, but no sound comes out. Something about your defiance, your honesty, seems to catch him off guard. He had expected you to cower, to run, to tremble at his mere presence. Instead, you’re standing here, pouring your soul out in front of him.

The room is silent.

 Sylus’ gaze doesn’t leave yours. "You think your struggles give you claim to this place?" His voice is softer now, almost contemplative. "You’re not the first to come here, seeking something better. But none of them stayed for long."

You don’t back down. "I’m not them," You say quietly. "I’m not running."

Sylus watches you for a long moment, his sharp features unreadable. Finally, he speaks, his tone more subdued, more thoughtful. "You have spirit, I’ll give you that." You stand there, still trembling, but something in the air feels different now. Sylus, for all his power, doesn’t seem as dismissive as he did before. He turns around, giving you one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows. "Don’t bring a priest. Don’t burn any more sage. Consider this a warning.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the nights are quiet.

After the tense confrontation with Sylus, after his warning and your emotional outburst, something shifted. You still feel him—his presence lingers in the mansion like a shadow that never quite leaves—but it's no longer oppressive.For several nights now, you’ve slept soundly, undisturbed by the creaks of the floorboards or the strange hum echoing through the halls. And though you sometimes catch a glimpse of movement in the shadows, Sylus doesn’t show himself. It’s as if he’s made a quiet, unspoken truce with you, staying out of your way—for now.

A week passes, and the mansion almost feels… peaceful. Maybe it’s the quiet, maybe it’s the way you’ve started to make the space your own despite his warnings. You’ve begun to settle in, unpacking more boxes, putting things in order, reclaiming the mansion in small ways.

One evening, you decide to tackle the attic. You pull the creaky ladder down and climb, your flashlight casting light across the wooden beams and piles of forgotten items. The air is thick with dust, and the faint smell of mildew hangs in the air. Boxes are piled high, old trunks and forgotten furniture clutter the space, draped in old sheets. You take a deep breath, brushing away cobwebs as you start sorting through the old belongings. It’s mostly junk—old letters, tarnished trinkets, broken ceramic figurines. But then you open a wooden music box and your eyes immediately land on something shiny.

A brooch.

It’s in the shape of a raven, carved from some kind of dark metal, accompanied by a large red gemstone. The moment your fingers brush against it, the air in the attic grows thick. You can feel a chill crawl up your spine as you lift the brooch, turning it over in your hand, examining the beautiful craftsmanship.

That’s when you hear him.

"Put it back."

You whirl around, and there he is—Sylus. His red eye glows brighter than usual, flickering with barely contained agitation. His tall frame looms over you, his tail flicks behind him, tense, snapping in the air like a whip.

You freeze, the brooch still in your hand. "Why?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

"That doesn’t belong to you," Sylus growls. He takes a step closer. "Put it back in the box. Now."

Slowly, carefully, you place the brooch back into the wooden music box. The moment you do, you can feel the tension in the room ease. Sylus watches, his eyes never leaving the brooch until it's safely out of sight. His broad shoulders relax, his tail flicking behind him in a slower, more measured rhythm.

"Why does it matter so much?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the closed music box. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more guarded, as though he’s choosing his words carefully. "It was made for someone. No one should be touching it."

There’s a story there, buried deep beneath his cold exterior, but he’s not offering it to you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. Your mind spins with possibilities, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to pry further into something clearly painful. Instead, you glance at the music box, not daring to touch it again. Its melody feels strangely familiar. You pause, recognizing the tune—the same haunting melody you’ve heard in the dark, late at night.

"Is this… the song you’ve been humming?" you ask carefully, lifting your gaze to meet his.

His eyes narrow, but there’s no anger there. He doesn’t answer immediately, but after a long silence, he gives a short nod. "It is."

A soft breath escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile. "Well," you say, your tone a little lighter "you’re always off-key." The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a moment, you freeze, wondering if you’ve crossed a line—if teasing a demon was, perhaps, not your smartest move.

Sylus blinks, his expression unreadable at first, but then—he chuckles. The sound is rough, almost rusty, as though it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to find humor in anything. "I didn’t know I had a critic," he mutters with a trace of amusement.

You let out a shaky breath, relieved, but still stunned by the sound of his laughter. You find yourself staring at Sylus, watching the way his red eyes soften, the way the usual predatory edge to him seems to dull, just for a moment. You don’t know what to say, but you don’t need to. Finally, Sylus breaks the silence, his voice quieter, less guarded than before. "Be careful with what you touch in this house," he says, though there’s no threat behind his words, only a quiet warning. "Not everything here belongs to you."

You nod, understanding more than he’s willing to say. "I didn’t mean to…" you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, the faintest smile on his lips. "I know." And with that, he turns, his figure dissolving into the shadows of the attic, leaving you alone once more.

But this time, the air doesn’t feel so heavy. The mansion doesn’t feel so hostile.

And Sylus doesn’t feel like a demon lurking in the dark anymore.

For the first time, he feels like someone who’s been through more than you could possibly imagine. Someone who’s carrying the weight of loss and pain for centuries. And somehow, despite everything, you’ve seen a glimpse of something human in him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The days that followed felt different. The mansion, though still steeped in its eerie silence, seemed to breathe a little easier. Sylus, who had always been a constant, brooding presence in the shadows, began to make himself known in new ways. You would be working around the house—organizing a room, fixing up old furniture, unpacking boxes—and you’d feel him. A brush of air, the faintest warmth at your back.

He never fully revealed himself during the day, not at first. But there were brief moments, when you’d catch a glimpse of him—standing in the doorway, his red eye glowing faintly before he slipped away, or a flash of silver hair in the corner of your vision. And slowly, he started to help.

At first, it was subtle. You’d be struggling to move a piece of furniture, and when you turned around to grab something for leverage, it had already shifted into place, as if someone had pushed it for you. Tools you needed would be mysteriously laid out before you reached for them. And sometimes, when you lost track of time working on a project, you’d find a fire already lit in the fireplace before the chill of the evening would creep in.

One afternoon, you were standing on a chair in the kitchen, trying to reach a high cabinet when you suddenly lost your balance. Before you could even cry out, you felt strong hands on your waist, steadying you, with a firm grip. You turned to find Sylus standing there, his lips curled into that familiar smirk.

"Careful, kitten," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Kitten. The word caught you off guard, and you blinked at him. Something about the way he said it—so casually, yet with a hint of affection—left you speechless. He had called you ‘kitten’ like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t mind the new nickname. Not at all.

The touches became more frequent, intentional. When you passed each other in narrow hallways, his hand would brush against your arm, or his fingers would trail along your back. Every touch would make your heart flutter, your cheeks heat up.

One evening, your muscles ached after hours of working tirelessly around the mansion. You sat by the fire, sipping tea in an attempt to relax. The room was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire, but then you felt it—his presence. Sylus was watching you from the doorway.

“You’ve been pushing yourself,” he said, his voice smooth like velvet. His eyes focused on your hand as it pressed against your shoulder, kneading the sore muscle.

“Maybe a little,” you replied, leaning back into the chair, letting your eyes close for just a second. “But I can handle it.”

Sylus chuckled softly. “You don’t always have to be so stubborn.” He leaned in closer, standing next to you. “Let me help.” His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, his touch warm.

For a moment, you hesitated, but the ache in your muscles urged you to accept. You gave a small nod and turned your back to him. He moved closer, his hands resting fully on your shoulders now. You could feel the strength in them through the thin fabric of your shirt. His fingers dug in gently, working into the tight muscles with a careful yet firm pressure. You let out a small sigh of relief, the tension starting to ease under his touch.

But then his hands moved more slowly, the pads of his fingers tracing over your skin in a way that felt… intimate. The soft kneading of your muscles became something more, his thumbs pressing into the knots in your back with expert precision. You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, craving the release from the pain.

“You like that?” Sylus murmured, his voice low, teasing as his hands moved lower. Your breath hitched as his fingers worked their magic, easing the soreness out of your muscles. It was impossible to ignore the way his hands felt against your body, the way each touch made your skin tingle.

“You’re so tense,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. His hands on your body, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all felt overwhelming. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, and though the massage had started innocently enough, there was no mistaking the shift in energy between you. As his hands moved lower, brushing dangerously close to your hips, you could feel the warmth pooling in your lower belly.

Flustered, you quickly pulled away, standing up from the chair before things could escalate any further. “Th-thank you for the massage,” you stammered. You could feel your face flushing and you didn’t dare look him in the eye.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his lips pulling into that knowing smirk. “Of course,”

You took a small step back. “I think I’ll just… take a hot bath before bed,” Without waiting for his response, you turned and made your way toward the bedroom. The heat in your cheeks only grew worse as you walked away, your legs feeling like they might give out from the mixture of embarrassment and the lingering effects of his touch. You felt his eyes on you, taking in every movement, the subtle sway of your hips as you retreated to the safety of your room.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The phone call left you feeling strange—half-flattered, half-disconnected. A friend of a friend, someone from your old life, asked you out on a date. You politely declined, giving some excuse about being too busy, about focusing on your new home. But that’s not entirely true. The call was a reminder of the life you left behind, and the strange new one you found here.

You sigh, setting the phone down and reaching for the bottle of wine you opened earlier. Pouring yourself a glass, you settle into the sofa and pick up a book. You sip the wine, letting the tension of the day slip away as you open the book. But it’s not quiet for long.

The air shifts, and before you even look up, you feel that familiar presence. Sylus arrives without a sound, as he always does.

With a smile, you lookup from your book. "Care to join me for a drink?" you ask as you raise your glass to him. Although you aren’t sure if demons even can drink.

He chuckles softly, his boots making the faintest sound as he crosses the room to stand beside you. "I haven’t tasted wine in centuries," he admits.

You tilt your head. "So you don’t eat? Or drink?"

Sylus shrugs, "I haven’t needed to," he says simply, but there is something in his tone—an almost wistful note. "I suppose I could try."

You laugh softly, offering him your glass. "Here, then. Let’s see if you still can."

Sylus hesitates for a moment, but then, with a slight shake of his head, he accepts your offer. He takes a small sip, tasting the wine before swallowing.

"Well?" you ask with a smile. "Can you taste it?"

Sylus’s lips curve into an amused smirk. "I can taste it," he says and takes another sip. He makes a face, mockingly disappointed, and returns the glass to you. "I think you should buy yourself something nicer," he teases. "This is a bit cheap."

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes. "Of course you have an expensive taste."

Sylus chuckles. But then, the relaxed expression changes to a serious one. "Who was on the phone earlier?"

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around your wineglass. "Just someone from my old life." Sylus raises an eyebrow, and you feel compelled to continue. “Asked me out on a date, but I declined.”

You avoid his gaze, but you can feel Sylus watching you. "Why did you decline?" he asks, his voice low. "You’ve been here for months. You don’t get out much. Why not say yes?"

You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. The truth is too heavy, too tangled, and you aren’t ready to admit it, not even to yourself.

"You’re one to talk," you say raising an eyebrow and mustering a playful tone. "If anyone’s used to solitude, it’s you. You’ve been alone for centuries—I think I can manage a little bit of solitude for a few months."

“Touché.” he chuckles. His gaze turns towards the flickering flames of the fireplace, “But solitude… it wears on you. You might think it’s peace, but after a while, it starts to feel more like a cage.”

The words sink into you, unsettling. But, before you can respond, a question begins to form at the back of your mind, heavy and uncomfortable. Was he truly alone all this time? Were there others before you, drawn into the same dark intensity of his presence? What if this isn’t new for him—this attraction, this electricity between you? What if you’re just another fleeting distraction in the long centuries of his existence?

You can’t stand that thought. You want to believe that you’re different, that something about you has made him change, drawn him out of the shadows in ways no one else ever has. But the growing feeling of jealousy won’t let go. Because if he’s been like this before—if there had been others—then what does that make you?

You take a deep breath, shoving these feelings aside. You feel foolish for letting your mind even go there. The two of you are just co-existing, just roommates in a weird way.

You glance at the clock on the mantel. “Oh,” you say, your voice a little too bright, “look at the time. The movie I wanted to watch is about to start.” You grab the TV remote, as if turning on the television can stop the thoughts from spiraling out of control.

Sylus doesn’t miss your deflection. He never does. “Another distraction?” he asks. He could sense your agitation, your mind wandering somewhere.

You shoot him a look, but the teasing edge in his voice makes your heart flutter. “Do you want to watch it with me?” you ask, trying to sound casual. “It’s about to start. I know how much you love TV,” you add with a playful glance his way. You know how fascinated he is with television, even though he’ll never admit it.

Sylus arches an eyebrow, and for a moment, you think he might decline. But then he stands and settles beside you on the sofa. He’s close—too close.

“I suppose I can indulge you,” he says. “Though, if this movie’s as boring as the last one you picked, I can’t promise I’ll stay.” His arm rests casually along the back of the sofa, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, even though he’s not touching you.

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you flip through the channels until you find the movie. “I’m sure it’ll hold your attention, Sylus,” you shoot back, though your mind is still racing, the earlier doubts lingering in your mind.

The movie begins, and for the first few moments, everything seems normal. It’s a late-night thriller, with captivating plot and ominous music. You let yourself sink into the sofa, grateful for the distraction, but the comfort doesn’t last long. About halfway through, the movie takes an unexpected turn. The tension between the characters on screen snaps, and suddenly, they’re in a dimly lit bedroom, their bodies pressed together. The soft, breathy moans fill the room, while the scene of naked bodies rolls on the screen.

Your breath hitches, and you fumble for the remote, your fingers shaking slightly as you try to find the button to change the channel. “I didn’t know it would… turn into this,” you mutter, clearly flustered.

Sylus snatches the remote from your hands. “Don’t change the channel.” His eyes are on the screen, amusement plastered over his face. Heat floods your cheeks, your heart racing as the sounds from the screen grow more intimate. You can feel Sylus shifting beside you, his arm still resting along the back of the sofa, his fingers just inches from your shoulder.

You try to focus, try to steer your mind away from the images on the screen. And then the uncomfortable question shows its ugly head again.

Had there been someone else?

You’re not sure what you are to him. You’re not sure if you’re just another passing moment in his long, endless existence.

You can’t think about that. You need to clear your head.

Sylus laughs as a relieved sigh leaves your lips when the steamy scene ends, and you can’t help but laugh a little with him.

You make a mental note to call the man from earlier. You’ll call him in the morning, when Sylus is resting, and try to schedule the date after all. Maybe it’ll help clear your head, help you sort through the tangled mess of emotions that has built up since you moved into this mansion, since Sylus slithered his way into your life.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The next day, you had avoided Sylus all morning, deliberately keeping yourself busy with small tasks that didn’t require much thought—dusting the bookshelves, scrubbing the kitchen counters, tending to the plants. But no matter what you did, you still felt him. Normally, you’d catch a glimpse of him here or there, a shadow slipping through the hallway or leaning against the doorway, finding any chance to tease you. But today, you avoided those moments, slipping out of rooms just before he appeared.

You tried to escape the gnawing feeling of guilt as well.

The call you’d made earlier in the morning had gone smoothly. The man had been more than happy to hear from her again. You agreed on the time and even though he was willing to pick you up, you insisted to meet at the restaurant. The conversation was light and sweet. But as soon as you hung up, a part of you regretted it. Even though you shouldn’t have.

After lunch, you retreated into the safety of your bedroom. You took your time getting ready —something you hadn’t done in a long time.The hours dragged on, and you continued to stay in your room, pacing, glancing at your reflection in the mirror - the tight dress is flattering, accentuating your curves. You set aside high heels that made your legs long and irresistible. You still had time to kill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room. You didn’t want to face Sylus. Not yet. The thoughts of last night still weighed heavily on you—the tension during the movie, the heat of his body next to yours, how you craved his touch.

Then, a knock at the door.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Sylus never knocks. He never enters your bedroom, to give you some semblance of privacy.

"Are you alright?" You can hear genuine concern in his voice from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for a while."

You hesitate, heart racing. Part of you wants to tell him to go away, to keep the distance you’d been trying so hard to create today. But the sound of his voice makes your chest tighten. You swallow, steeling yourself before you answer.

"Come in." Why did you tell him to come in?

The door creaks open slowly, and as Sylus steps into the room, you can see the brief flash of surprise on his face—the way his red eyes widen as he takes you in. For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way fabric of the dress clings to your body.

"Well," he finally says, his voice low. "I thought something was wrong… that you weren’t feeling well. Or that you were avoiding me."

There’s something about the way he says it, the flicker of concern behind his usual teasing, that touches you. You force a smile. "I wasn’t avoiding you," you lie. "I just… took my time to getting ready."

Sylus steps closer, his eyes over you again, savoring every detail. Then, his expression softens. "You look beautiful," he says, the words slipping from his lips with surprising tenderness.

The compliment stuns you. Of all the things you expected from him—teasing, possessiveness, maybe even anger—this was the last. You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stare back at him, unsure how to react.

He doesn’t let you recover, though. He steps even closer, his gaze holding yours, and he adds, "You always do."

His words are so sincere. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to find your voice, "Thank you," the words are barely audible, your heart still racing from the weight of his gaze.

Then his lips pull into that teasing smirk. "So, you are going on that date after all?"

You feel your stomach twist at his words. “Yes, I’m going on a date.”

Sylus steps closer, his towering form closing in on you with that familiar, quiet intensity. Your heart races as he moves forward, and instinctively, you step back. But he doesn’t stop. With each step he takes, you find yourself moving backward, the space shrinking, guiding you slowly toward the edge of your bed.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” he asks, his voice low and laced with that dangerous amusement.

You swallow, trying to stay composed. “You’re the one who suggested it,” you say, hoping that your words don’t betray the storm of emotions inside.

He smirks, clearly not fooled by your attempt to steer the conversation away. His gaze never leaves yours as he steps even closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, sending a shiver across your skin. “Is that so?” his tone is almost taunting, “If that’s what you want - to go out… to have fun with someone else… then you should.”

His words hang in the air, but the way he says it—the challenge, the possessiveness barely veiled—makes it feel like anything but permission. His fingers trace down from your cheek, slowly grazing your jawline before trailing to your throat, where they rest lightly, just enough to make your pulse race under his touch. But it’s the way his tail moves—sliding up the back of your leg, curling around your thigh—that sends a wave of heat flooding through you. It lingers there, teasing, the smooth, firm pressure making your legs tremble.

 “You can say the word,” he whispers, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes your lips, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. “If you want me to stop, to keep my distance… just say it.”

His tail continues its slow, deliberate trail over your skin. The air feels thick, suffocating, as you stand there, torn between your desire for something normal, and the undeniable pull of the dark, dangerous connection between you and him.

The silence stretches, thick with tension as Sylus waits, his lips so close to yours. His gaze locks onto yours, waiting, daring you to speak. But your throat is dry, your breath caught somewhere between fear and desire, and no words come. You can’t say it. You don’t want him to stop. And Sylus knows it.

"You’re not stopping me," he murmurs. His tail tightens its grip on your thigh, its smooth length curling higher, the teasing pressure sending a wave of arousal through your body.

Your knees buckle, your body trembling under the weight of his presence. You stumble, falling back onto the bed, but before you can even react, Sylus’ hands are there—gripping your waist, guiding you down gently so the landing is soft. The bed creaks as he follows, his hands and knees resting on either side of you, caging you in.

His eyes are dark and hungry as they roam over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your lips part in anticipation. His hand slides up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip, teasing, making you crave more.

"You belong to me," Sylus whispers. With that, he finally closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a slow kiss. In that moment, everything else falls away—the date, the outside world, the fear of what’s happening between you. All that matters is Sylus.

The kiss deepens, your body melting into the bed as Sylus’ lips press harder against yours, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, swirling with yours leaving you breathless. His teeth graze your bottom lip, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands are buried in his silver locks, trembling as his kiss grows hungrier, more urgent. But before you can pull him closer, Sylus breaks the kiss. Slowly, he reaches down, his fingers grazing the straps of your dress and bra before tugging them down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He slides one hand up, gripping both of your wrists in a firm, yet careful hold. He lifts your hands, pinning them above your head against the soft sheets.

"Do you trust me?" he asks with softness in his voice.

The question catches you off guard. You swallow hard, your throat tight as you whisper, "Yes."

Sylus’ eyes flicker with a flash of satisfaction, and before you can process what’s happening, the space around your wrists tightens. You glance up and see the dark tendrils of magic winding around your wrists, binding them together. The energy pulses softly, not painful, but firm—like his touch. Your pulse quickens as you realize just how vulnerable you are beneath him, your body completely at his mercy. Sylus takes in the sight beneath him, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

Without another word, he leans down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak. His mouth is hot, teasing, as he licks and sucks at your breast, his hand squeezing the other, rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to make you whimper.

As his mouth works your breast, his tail slides up beneath your dress, the smooth length teasing the inside of your thighs. You shudder at the sensation, your body twitching in anticipation as the tip of his tail finally finds its way to your panties, grazing over the damp fabric.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he watches you squirm beneath him. "Look at you," he murmurs, his tail pressing just a little harder against your panties, making you gasp. "So wet already…" The smirk on his lips widens as his tail continues to tease you, the sensation maddening as he presses against your swollen clit through the fabric. Without warning, he pulls the bottom of your dress up over your hips, exposing your lace panties to his hungry gaze. His eyes flicker with a brief flash of jealousy at the sight of the lacy fabric, but then a different look takes over—pride. He is the one who gets to take them off, the one who has you like this.

"Pretty," he says with a teasing edge as his fingers brush over the fabric before gripping the waistband. "But I think I prefer you without these." His tail slides aside, giving way to his hands as he hooks his fingers under the lace and slowly peels your panties down, leaving you bare and exposed to his gaze.

The moment Sylus’ fingers slide between your folds and feel how wet you are, his breath hitches. He can feel the throbbing need building inside him, but he keeps himself steady. He will not lose control. Not yet. A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he teases you, his fingers gliding lightly over your entrance, brushing against your clit just enough to send shocks of pleasure through you. You whine, your hips bucking instinctively against his touch.

"Please," you whisper, your voice breaking with desperation, your wrists still bound above your head as you tug uselessly against the restraints. The heat between your legs is unbearable, and every teasing stroke of his fingers makes it worse.

Sylus leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he coos softly. "Tell me what you need," His fingers continuing their torturous, feather-light touches. "I want to hear you say it."

Your body trembles beneath him, and for a moment, you hesitate, the embarrassment battling with the overwhelming need. But the feel of his fingers stroking you, teasing you, is too much, and your voice wavers as you whisper, "I… I need you inside me. Please."

The smirk on his lips widens. "Good girl." He leans back, straightening up, and in one fluid motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His body is incredible—broad, muscular shoulders leading down to a strong, toned chest and perfectly defined abs. You can’t tear your eyes away as Sylus’ hands moved to the waistband of his pants, the motion enhancing the muscles and veins of his arms. His gaze never leaves yours as he slowly pulls down his pants and underwear, just enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it—thick, long, and already leaking with precum. The sheer size of him makes your heart race with a mix of excitement and nervousness, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. ‘How am I going to take that?’ you swallow hard as you look up at him.

Sylus notices the flicker of worry in your eyes, and a smug grin tugs at the corners of his lips. "Don’t worry," his voice is laced with amusement as he wraps his hand around his length, stroking himself slowly. His eyes lock onto yours as he kneels between your legs, his fingers sliding back down between your thighs, teasing your dripping pussy again. "I know you can take it"

Sylus positions himself between your legs, his eyes fixed on you as he lines himself up with your entrance. His cock presses against your slick folds, the thick head nudging inside, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You’re trembling, but the weight of his body and the heat radiating off him keep you anchored.

“Relax, darling,” his voice is soothing as he strokes your thigh. His gaze is soft as he watches your reactions.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes forward, easing himself inside. The stretch makes you gasp. It stings, just a little, but there’s a dizzying pleasure that follows it, a heat that courses through you as he fills you inch by inch. Your breath is shallow, and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by how full you feel, how intense it is.

“Angel,” Sylus growls softly, his voice thick with desire as he pauses, halfway in, letting your body adjust to the stretch. “Look at me.”

You bite your lip, too lost in the sensation to bring yourself to open your eyes. That’s when you feel his hand slide up to your neck with a firm grip, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he orders, his voice soft but commanding, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. “I want to watch your face as I slide inside you. I want to see how beautiful you look.”

Your eyes flutter open, and the intensity of his gaze nearly steals your breath. His red eyes burn with a mixture of lust and something deeper, something more tender. His fingers tighten slightly around your neck, just enough to keep you grounded, to keep you focused on him. He’s watching you closely as he pushes in deeper, sinking further inside you.

You’re a whimpering mess by the time Sylus finally bottoms out. The stretch makes your head spin, tears prick at the corners of your eyes, spilling over as you gasp beneath him. Sylus notices the tears almost immediately. His gaze softens and his thumb moves from your neck to gently wipe them away, the pads of his fingers tender against your flushed cheeks.

“Shh, darling,” His thumb swipes over your skin, catching a tear before it falls. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good, taking me so perfectly.”

His words send a shiver through you, and despite the ache and the fullness, there’s something comforting about his touch, the way he speaks to you. His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, before he shifts his grip to your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips draw back slightly, the head of his cock dragging against your inner walls, sending a shock of pleasure through you.

Sylus groans softly, his voice catching as he feels your slick walls gripping him. He holds himself still for a moment, trying to stay in control, but the truth is, he’s so close to losing it. This is the first time he’s done this since becoming a demon—since being cursed with his immortal body—and the sensation of being inside you, of your tight, wet heat surrounding him, is almost too much. He can’t tell you that, can’t admit that you are the one in control.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow at first, almost careful, but the way your pussy clenches around him makes it impossible for him to hold back. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he thrusts into you, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through your body. “Fuck,” he growls, his voice strained as his hips snap forward again, harder this time. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so good, so fucking good…”

He’s too close, and before he can stop himself, the pleasure overtakes him. After only a few more short, sharp thrusts, he pulls out suddenly, his cock throbbing as hot spurts of cum splash across the skin of your belly.

You’re stunned for a moment. You did not expect him to finish so quickly.

Sylus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes glinting with a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. He glances down, where his release glistens on your skin, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something like embarrassment in his eyes. He should’ve expected for you to have such an effect on him.

But even as he catches his breath, his cock is still hard. Without a word, he reaches down, his fingers gripping his length, and he guides himself back to your entrance. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, the lingering warmth of his release still fresh on your skin as he presses the head of his cock against you again. He watches your reaction closely as he slowly pushes back inside you, the wetness of his release mixing with your own arousal as he fills you once more. “I’m not done with you.”

The stretch feels even more intense the second time, your body still sensitive from his earlier thrusts, and a gasp escapes your lips as he slides inside, burying himself deep again. His hips snap against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer, deeper with every thrust.

Sylus’ tail snakes around your waist, the smooth, firm length of it tightening as it pulls you flush against him, keeping you pinned beneath his body. His hand moves to your throat again, fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of his control. The pressure sends a thrill through you, intensifying every sensation as he picks up the pace. Each thrust drives him deeper, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over, making your body tremble with pleasure.

You try to turn your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Sylus doesn’t let you hide. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to command your attention, as he growls softly, "Look at me, darling."

His fingers slide between your thighs, finding your swollen clit with a precision that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. You’re overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock filling you completely, the wet heat of your bodies moving together in sync, and the relentless pressure on your clit. It’s too much, all of it—too intense, too good, too consuming. You try to close your eyes, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze, but Sylus isn’t having it.

“I said, look at me,” His tail winds tighter around your waist, anchoring you in place. His hips snap against yours, faster, harder, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, forcing broken moans from your lips. The fingers move faster, rougher on your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your eyes flutter open, locking onto his. You’re teetering on the brink, every nerve in your body on fire. His thick cock slams into you harder, deeper, his fingers relentless on your clit, and your body surrenders completely.

Sylus watches you—his breath ragged, muscles taut, holding back just enough, waiting for you. His hand stays firm on your throat, keeping you grounded, his fingers pushing you towards your peak. He can feel it in the way your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing tighter, and it drives him wild.

"Come for me," he growls, his voice thick with command.

His words are all it takes. Pleasure slams into you, stealing your breath as your body tightens around him. Every pulse, every clench makes the orgasm crash through you in waves so intense that all you can do is cry out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Your back arches off the bed, but Sylus is there, his hands and tail keeping you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy. You're helpless, lost in the dizzying sensation, and he holds you tight, letting you ride out every wave.

“That’s it,” he groans, his restraint slipping as he feels you clench around him, your body milking him with every pulse. His voice is rough, almost desperate now. “Just like that, angel. Just like that.”

As you come down from your high, your breath still shaky, you feel the tension of Sylus’ magic keeping your wrists bound above your head. You tug weakly against the restraints, wanting to touch him, to feel his skin beneath your hands, your body aching for the closeness.

“Sylus,” you whisper, your voice soft and hoarse from the intensity of it all, “please… I want to touch you.”

Without hesitation, the dark tendrils of magic around your wrists fade, releasing you. Your arms fall limply to your sides, trembling with exhaustion. But it only takes a moment before you reach up, wrapping your arms around Sylus’ neck, pulling him down into a tight, desperate embrace. The second your hands grip him, your lips find his in a messy, breathless kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating, the heat of his body pressing down on yours offering you comfort.

Sylus groans against your mouth, his hips moving in slow, languid motions, drawing out every ounce of pleasure. His cock fills you completely, each gentle thrust making your body shudder beneath him. His grasp on your hip is almost bruising, his fingers digging into your skin as though holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded. But his other hand is soft, cradling the back of your neck with tender care, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

His lips barely pull away from yours between frantic kisses. "Where... where can I finish?" His voice is strained, and his hips falter for a moment. You can feel the way his body trembles with the effort of holding back. His thrusts begin to quicken, each thrust hitting deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"Inside," you whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as your hands tug him closer. "Do whatever you want... I'm yours."

Something in Sylus snaps at your words. His thrusts grow erratic, his body trembling as he reaches his peak, and with one final, deep thrust, he lets go. His release hits him hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills, groaning into your neck as the pleasure crashes over him. His grip on you tightens for a moment before his movements slow, his breath heavy and uneven.

As he rides out his high, his lips find yours again, kissing you softly. His hips slow to a gentle, rolling motion, drawing out the last waves of pleasure, but never pulling away. His hand cradles the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin, while his other hand loosens its hold on your hip, stroking your skin as if to apologize for the bruises he left behind.

"Mine," he whispers against your lips. His forehead rests gently against yours, and you can feel his breath mingling with yours in the stillness that follows. You realize there’s no need for words. Wrapped in his arms, with his silent affection surrounding you, you know this is where you belong.

[pomefioredove]

😭😭 Please make more hcs of yuu's admiration club plss it's so cute and I ended up reading it so fast 💔💔 feel free to delete or not reply!<3

original post (riddle, leona, azul, vil)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yuu Admirer Club! 2

type of post: headcanons characters: jamil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, ortho's part is strictly platonic

Kalim has never been one to ask for permission

Jamil's whole life at school is centered around adapting to Kalim's chaos

but this isn't chaotic

it's... quiet. too quiet

it takes him all of ten minutes to realize Kalim isn't in the dorm

of course, Jamil has his suspicions...

he's had his own little fantasies about running away with you

I mean WHAT who said that

as much as he'd like to enjoy the peace and quiet for once,

he knows he'll get in trouble if anything happens

and knowing Kalim, something will happen

so, now, he's standing in Ramshackle's foyer, arms crossed

"what are you doing?"

Kalim is sitting on the floor, weaving friendship bracelets

"oh, I'm gonna stay here. I like it. look, I made you one, too!"

"you cannot stay at another dorm, you are the housew-"

hmmmm... wait a second

Jamil's whole disposition changes, and he smiles all big

"you know what? you deserve a break. I'll just take care of things at Scarabia while you're gone,"

he turns to you "keep him away from open flame."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia knows better than to worry when Ortho goes off on his own

I mean... he still does, but he knows not to

it's just a few hours... just a few hours...

but it's getting dark now, and Ortho's been radio-silent

completely blipped off the map...

Idia slips into his computer chair and starts going through the security cam feed

courtyard is empty, classrooms are dark, even the- what's that?

a familiar electric blue glow is coming from...

he switches between cams to get a good look

and it's Ortho... and you

having some kind of mock tea party with empty cups. some stuffed animals, a few other first years, even Grim is there...

Idia snorts

but... the more he thinks about it...

no. no, he cannot be jealous of his little brother playing toys with the prefect

that would be pathetic. even for him...

still, he can't help but envy Ortho's social skills

maybe, if he could actually talk to you, his yuu admiring club wouldn't have to be an account he secretly runs and folder on his computer...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it's unusually quiet in Diasomnia tonight

usually, Malleus would enjoy the stillness of the evening, but there's something quite eerie about it now

"Lilia... have you any idea of where Silver and Sebek are?"

the vice housewarden, upside-down, shrugs

how strange... Malleus cannot recall a time where Sebek has left him alone for more than a few hours

it's... worrying

of course, he goes to you first

not out of suspicion, but because few others could give him a coherent answer while trembling with fear

when you open Ramshackle's door, there you are... and there's Silver... and Sebek...

both asleep in the foyer behind you

what a sight

you explain that some of the boys had started a "Yuu Admirer Club" and surprised you with an impromptu meeting

a sour look crosses Malleus' face

"don't be mad at them, it's my fault. I didn't have the heart to wake them," you say.

"oh, I'm not upset that they've decided to spend their time with you. I understand completely. I am, however, a little upset that I was not invited to this "Yuu Admirer Club"."

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Unveiling Hearts: The Law of Attraction Pairing: lawyer!Joshua x fem!lawyer!reader Genre: rivals to lovers, coworkers to lovers, lawyer au, romance, smut, fluff, angst Wordcount: 13.4k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Two former law school rivals are forced to confront their past and present when they end up working together at the same firm. As old tensions resurface, their professional and personal lives become entangled, leading to unexpected challenges. Through rivalry and collaboration, they navigate the complexities of their relationship and careers, discovering that some connections are meant to be re-examined.

Warnings: reader is afab, smut (MDNI), slight dom/sub dynamics, switch!reader, switch!joshua, drunk sex, sex without protection (reader is on birth control), self-doubt, fighting (verbally)

A/N: this is a collab made by @haologram - find the Don't Hate, Litigate! masterlist here!

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

As soon as your eyes flutter open, an unsettling sensation grips you. Despite the blinds being tightly drawn, an unusual brightness floods the room, casting an eerie glow on the walls. The familiar muffled sound of your neighbor’s TV, a constant background noise every morning, is conspicuously absent. This odd silence is jarring. Your heart races as you turn to glance at the clock, its digital display blinking erratically, showing a time far later than your usual wake-up. Panic sets in as you realize your alarm never went off, and you've overslept by a crucial half-hour.

With a string of curses, you stumble out of bed, your feet tangling in the sheets as you lurch toward the closet. Frantically, you grab the first outfit in sight. The button-down shirt you pull on is slightly wrinkled, and you tuck it into your pencil skirt with hurried, sloppy movements. You mutter under your breath, knowing that this disheveled look is a problem for the future you to handle.

Struggling with your pantyhose, you nearly topple over, muttering a string of curses. "Damn you, alarm clock, this is all your fault," you grumble, your voice tinged with frustration. Finally dressed, you sprint into the kitchen, where the unfamiliarity of your new space looms large. "Where are the cups?" you groan, flinging open cabinets and drawers in a frantic search. Each empty cabinet and misplaced item heightens your frustration, making your heart race even faster. After what feels like an eternity, you stumble upon a bowl and, with a resigned sigh, decide it will have to do for your much-needed coffee.

Tofu, your white, fluffy cat, watches you with an air of amused indifference. His emerald eyes follow your every move as you haphazardly brew coffee in the bowl. "Really, Tofu? Just going to sit there and judge me?" you mutter, glancing at him. He meanders over to his food bowl's usual spot, looking at you expectantly. "Great, even the cat knows this place better than I do," you sigh, shaking your head. You scoop out his food and place the bowl on the tray, giving him a quick pet. "Bye, Tofu. Be good," you say, but he merely flicks his tail and turns his back, more interested in his breakfast than your farewell.

Turning to the hallway mirror, you take a moment to compose yourself. You meticulously smooth down each unruly wisp of hair and straighten your blazer with unwavering attention to detail. The reflection staring back at you looks polished and composed, a stark contrast to the chaos of your morning. Satisfied, you grab your bag and dart out the door, mentally steeling yourself for the whirlwind of tasks and challenges that await.

As you arrive at the law firm, you navigate the bustling corridors, your mind already racing with the tasks you need to catch up on. The familiar hum of office chatter and the clatter of keyboards provide a strange sense of comfort amidst the morning's turmoil. You barely settle into your chair, your to-do list unfurling in your mind, when your boss's voice rings out, "We need you in the conference room for an urgent meeting."

You grab your coffee mug, now filled with the hastily brewed beverage, and head to the meeting. "So much for a moment to relax," you think, your shoulders tensing with the anticipation of another demanding day. As your colleagues file into the room, you steel yourself for the challenges ahead. Despite the morning's chaos, you know you have to keep pushing forward.

When you enter the room, you notice a familiar figure standing by the window, reviewing a stack of documents. A tall, handsome man with a dark navy suit and his hair swept back in a haphazard way – the kind of hairstyle that looks effortless, but everyone secretly knows is high maintenance. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize him— Joshua Hong, from law school. The years have been kind to him; he still has the same confident stance and sharp eyes.

You sit down in your usual seat, praying that your old-school rival doesn’t recognize you. Today out of all days – when you look disheveled and tired as all hell – he just had to appear. If you remember correctly, he works for a rival company and you spend several minutes wracking your brain for an answer as to why he is there. Your boss begins discussing the new, urgent case you are assigned to, but your attention is divided between the details of the case and the presence of Joshua. You feel a mix of surprise and irritation at seeing him again, memories of your intense rivalry flooding back.

Once the meeting ends, you’re hurriedly packing your things together to avoid Joshua – you know you wouldn’t be able to avoid him completely, but maybe you could buy yourself enough time to go to the bathroom and put yourself together. However, your plans are disrupted by your supervisor who comes walking over to you.

“Y/L/N, you were unusually quiet today,” he says with a furrowed brow. “Is anything the matter?”

Your supervisor is kind, and you feel truly fortunate to have him. However, his timing leaves much to be desired. As he calls your name, you notice Joshua's head snap in your direction, his eyes narrowing with interest. Maybe he had already seen you, but now he seizes the opportunity to approach. His confident stride carries him across the room, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He joins the two of you, thanking your supervisor for a good first meeting before turning his full attention to you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone laced with a hint of amusement, his eyes gleaming. “It’s been a while.”

You force a smile, striving to keep your tone neutral. “Joshua. I didn’t expect to see you here,” you reply, noting how his presence seems to fill the room with an almost overbearing energy.

“I just transferred from my old company,” he replies, his voice carrying a familiar, competitive edge. His gaze locks onto yours, unyielding. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“Looks like it,” you respond, your heart pounding as you struggle to remain composed. “Welcome to the company, Joshua.” Your words feel stiff, formal, a shield against the flood of emotions his presence invokes.

As you leave the meeting, the cold, distant persona from your university days begins to surface. Memories of who you used to be, shaped by Joshua’s antics, flood back, making you cringe. You recall yourself as the harsh critic, the goody-two-shoes who somehow managed to be a vicious competitor, always driven to outperform everyone else. That fierce competitiveness got you through school, but now, in hindsight, you can’t believe how ruthless you were. The entire situation feels surreal, like a never-ending nightmare.

When you finally reach your office, you glance out the window, only to see Joshua talking to your supervisor again. The sight of him triggers a flood of unwanted memories. He notices you staring and waves playfully, a smug grin on his face. Quickly, you avert your gaze, wishing you could crawl back into bed and escape the reality of work.

The atmosphere in the office feels stifling as you try to focus on your tasks. The bustling environment, usually a source of motivation, now feels oppressive. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare, and the incessant hum of conversations around you becomes a dull roar in your ears. Your mind keeps drifting back to Joshua, and the uneasy feeling in your stomach grows.

As the day drags on, you find it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Every little sound seems amplified—the rustle of papers, the click of keyboards, the distant ring of phones. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can't shake the anxiety gnawing at you. When lunchtime finally arrives, you retreat to a quiet corner of the break room, seeking a moment of solace.

Sitting with your back against the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The familiar scent of coffee and the murmur of your colleagues’ conversations provide a small measure of comfort. You remind yourself that you’ve faced challenges before and emerged stronger. This time will be no different.

When you return to your desk, you catch sight of Joshua once more. He stands at the center of a group of coworkers, his animated gestures and infectious laughter commanding their attention. The sunlight streaming through the office windows catches the gleam of his watch and the crisp lines of his tailored suit, accentuating his charismatic presence. His eyes twinkle with that familiar confidence, and every so often, he glances around the room, as if he owns it.

You take a deep breath, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. Steeling yourself, you remind yourself that his reappearance will not unsettle you. Squaring your shoulders, you walk with purpose to your desk, the clicking of your heels on the polished floor echoing your determination.

Settling into your chair, you take a moment to ground yourself. The familiar hum of the office envelops you, a steady rhythm that helps you regain your focus. You arrange your papers neatly, your fingers tracing the edges of each document, seeking comfort in the orderliness. The scent of fresh coffee from your mug mingles with the faint aroma of office supplies, creating an oddly soothing atmosphere.

With renewed resolve, you dive into your work, your fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced efficiency. The tasks before you, once daunting, now seem manageable. You immerse yourself in the flow of productivity, your mind honing in on each detail, each challenge. The turbulent morning fades into the background, replaced by the clarity of purpose.

Just as you settle back into your workflow, you stand to retrieve a document from the printer. As you round the corner, you collide directly with Joshua, who is holding a stack of papers. His documents scatter across the floor, and for a brief moment, you lock eyes.

"Watch where you’re going," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joshua bends down to gather his papers, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like some things never change," he retorts. "Still as clumsy as ever, I see."

You kneel to help him, your fingers brushing against his as you both reach for the same document. A jolt of annoyance surges through you, mingled with an unwelcome spark of attraction. "And you're still as irritating as ever," you reply, your tone sharp.

He chuckles, the sound low and infuriatingly charming. "It's good to see you haven't lost your edge."

"Good to see you haven't lost your overconfidence," you snap back, handing him the last of his papers. "Just stay out of my way."

"Can't make any promises," he says, his eyes twinkling with that competitive spark. "But I'll try to be more careful around you."

You stand up, brushing off your skirt, and take a step back. Joshua stands up with you, looking at you expectantly. Some of his, otherwise perfectly slicked back, hair had fallen out of place over his forehead. "You do that," you say, turning on your heel and walking away.

The encounter leaves you simmering, but also oddly invigorated. The rivalry that once pushed you to your limits in university now fuels your determination, and the undercurrent of attraction only adds to the tension.

Returning to your desk, you feel a renewed sense of focus. Despite the lingering presence of Joshua in the back of your mind, you remind yourself that you’re capable and resilient. Each completed task, each problem solved, reinforces your confidence. You glance up occasionally, noting the bustle of the office around you, a testament to the day marching on.

Later that evening, you meet up with your friend Nari at your favorite bar. The warm ambiance and the hum of conversations provide a comforting backdrop as you both settle into a booth with your drinks. It’s just what you need after your chaotic day at work, and you let yourself fully relax – something that your friend seems to be unable to do. Nari sips her cocktail and sighs deeply, clearly exasperated.

“Another bad date?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Nari groans. “I don’t know why I even bother with these dating apps anymore. They never seem to work out.”

You nod sympathetically. Nari’s dating woes are a frequent topic of conversation, almost to the point where you have a script of what to say. “Maybe you need to take a break from them.”

“What am I doing wrong, Y/N?” she exclaims with a pout.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you correct her. “None of these guys you’re seeing can reach up to your standards, that’s all.”

Nari swirls her drink thoughtfully. “I just can’t get that one guy out of my head. Do you remember the one I met at the bar a few years ago? We had this amazing conversation all night, but I never got his number.”

You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. “You're such a romantic, Nari. Holding out hope for some guy you met once.”

“You don’t understand! We talked for hours, at some point I thought I'd never go home– and I was fine with it! I think we talked about Billy Elliot for, like, an hour. We both had been crying through it as kids, apparently,” she explains. “It felt like I had met a soulmate... not just because of that, of course, but we were so alike in everything we talked about! I’ve never met anyone like that.”

“This is why I can’t do what you do,” you say. “I can’t do romance, I’d just end up disappointed.”

Nari laughs and leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of romance, what about you and Joshua? Seems like you two have a lot of unresolved tension.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Joshua? No way. He’s just... ugh, he’s always been a pain. And now I’ll have to deal with him again. I thought I was done with him after uni.”

“Uh-huh,” Nari teases, raising an eyebrow. “A handsome, successful pain who you just can’t stop thinking about.”

You shake your head in an attempt to drown out her claims, but you can’t deny that Joshua has been occupying your thoughts since you saw him earlier. Despite feeling annoyed by his presence, you find yourself strangely intrigued by the possibilities. It’s strange how someone you despised could still ignite a sense of motivation within you.

“Do you know why he transferred?” Nari asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not at all,” you admit. “I thought he was pretty much in love with his old company– that’s what it sounded like in school, at least.”

“I have a memory of you complaining about that, yeah.” She nods and sips on her drink before she gets an idea that almost makes her jump out of her seat. “If you’re going to start complaining about Joshua now, I think I’m allowed to talk about my almost-soulmate! We should take turns!”

“Why are you so excited about that?” You laugh at her eccentric behavior.

“Because now I finally have something to hold over your head!” she exclaims and the two of you laugh together.

After finishing your drinks, you and Nari leave the bar, bickering lightheartedly about your love lives before you head your separate ways. Walking home, the cool night air does little to clear your head. Your thoughts drift back to Joshua and the memories of your law school days. You remember the heated debates, the competitive spirit, and most vividly, the times you compared test scores after the particularly grueling exams. Everything you did, in the end, you did to beat Joshua. It’s part of the reason you ended up at the top of your class, you’re sure of it.

As you unlock your door and step into your apartment, your cat greets you with a soft meow. You sigh, kicking off your shoes and recounting the day’s events to your furry friend. “Can you believe it, Tofu? Joshua Hong, of all people.”

Your cat blinks at you, unimpressed by your human drama. Shaking your head, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After feeding Tofu, you walk into your bathroom to do your skincare. As you brush your teeth, you catch your reflection in the mirror, thinking about Joshua’s smirk and the way he still knows how to get under your skin. You shiver at the thought, quickly spitting out the toothpaste in your sink before going into your bedroom.

Finally, you crawl into bed, setting your alarm with extra care this time. 

“Not going to be late again,” you mutter to yourself, determined to face whatever challenges tomorrow brings, including Joshua. As you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with memories of past rivalries and the confusing mix of emotions that come with seeing Joshua again.

The next day, you walk into the office determined to focus on your work and ignore Joshua. However, that plan quickly falls apart. As soon as you start reviewing the case files, Joshua walks up behind you in the meeting room. He looks over your shoulder, at the notes you have on your computer, and points out a section you had just written.

“Are you sure you want to approach the case like this?” he asks, pointing to your notes. “I think your argument here is a bit weak.”

You glare at him, refusing to back down. “I’m confident in my approach, Joshua. Maybe you should focus on your work instead of nitpicking mine.”

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want you to get left behind.”

From that moment, the rivalry that had simmered since law school reignites with full force. Every interaction becomes a contest of who can outdo the other, with you both constantly trying to prove your superiority. Meetings turn into battlegrounds of sharp words and pointed comments, neither of you willing to concede any ground.

Weeks pass, and your frustration with Joshua grows. You vent to Nari over lunch, recounting the latest clash with your rival.

“He just gets under my skin,” you fume, stabbing at your salad. “He questions everything I do, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Nari listens patiently, a knowing smile on her face. “You know, all this bickering sounds like something else to me.”

You look at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Nari says, leaning in, “as I said before, it sounds like you two have a lot of unresolved tension. To me, all of your stories sound like he’s flirting with you. Maybe you should just ask him out and get it over with.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Ask him out? Joshua? Are you kidding?”

“Think about it,” Nari insists. “You guys are already close, and there’s clearly something there. It might be worth exploring.”

You shake your head, but Nari’s words linger in your mind. The idea seems absurd, yet the more you think about it, the more you wonder if there might be some truth to what she’s saying. It’s not like your love life can get any worse—it’s practically non-existent. Being with someone you know, someone who’s as passionate about work as you are might be a good thing. Maybe there is something beneath all the rivalry and tension that’s worth exploring.

Over the next few days, Nari’s words echo in your mind. The more you think about it, the more you realize there might be some truth to her suggestion. Joshua is good-looking and undeniably talented, and your interactions, while contentious, are always charged with a certain energy. You start to wonder if, beneath all that rivalry, there might be something more. And even if there wasn’t, maybe there could be something – you had been on your own for a while, it was time to find someone.

Finally, you decide to take Nari’s advice. You can’t deny that Joshua has been occupying your thoughts more than usual, and maybe it’s time to confront this situation head-on. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

The case your team has been working on finally comes to a close, and you all decide to celebrate with a night out at a nearby bar. As the drinks flow, your usual restraint begins to wane, and you find yourself getting more and more intoxicated.

Encouraged by the alcohol and a sudden surge of confidence, you decide to go for it. You approach Joshua, your heart pounding in your chest. He’s standing by the wall, watching all of your coworkers play a game of mafia loudly. He managed to lose in the first round, and you followed shortly after—on purpose, to be alone with him.

“Joshua,” you slur slightly, trying to steady yourself. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks at you curiously, tilting his head. “What is it, Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you muster all your courage. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think there’s something between us. Do you... want to go out with me?”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Joshua sighs, a look of regret and guilt crossing his face. “Y/N, I... I have a girlfriend.”

Your heart sinks, the embarrassment hitting you like a sobering wave. “Oh,” you manage to say, your voice small. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have... I’m just gonna go.”

Even when he’s rejecting you, he’s perfect. Without waiting for a response, you turn and make your way outside, your vision blurring with unshed tears.

You find yourself sitting on the curb, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Through blurred vision, you order a cab on your phone. As you wait for your cab, your phone rings. It’s Nari.

“Hey, guess what!” she exclaims, her excitement palpable even through the phone, and she doesn’t even give you time to answer before she continues, “I found him! The guy from the bar all that time ago. We’re going out for fast food right now! His name is Vernon– can you believe how sweet that is?”

You force yourself to sound happy for her, even though your heart feels like it’s breaking. “That’s amazing, Nari. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I gotta go, but we’ll talk soon, okay? I’ll give you all the details later,” she whispers out the last part as if she’s scared to get caught.

“Sure,” you say, barely managing to keep your voice steady. “Have fun.”

As the call ends, you finally allow the tears to fall. The cab arrives, and you climb in, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape. The driver doesn’t say anything as you give your address, and you spend the ride home in silence, the events of the night playing over and over in your mind.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed, the weight of your unrequited feelings pressing down on you. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the tears that come, and you cry yourself to sleep, the heartbreak feeling all too real.

The next morning, you drag yourself to work, the events of the previous night still weighing heavily on your mind. The thought of facing Joshua again is too much to bear, so you decide to take action. After some deliberation, you gather your courage and head to your boss’s office.

“Come in,” your boss says as you knock on the door. You step inside, closing the door behind you.

“Good morning,” you greet, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wanted to discuss something important.”

Your boss looks up from his paperwork, giving you his full attention. “Of course, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

Taking a deep breath, you say, “I’d like to request a transfer to a different department.”

Your boss raises an eyebrow. “A transfer? This is sudden. Is everything alright?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “I just think a change of scenery would be beneficial for me right now. Personal reasons, mostly.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding. “Well, it’s interesting you bring this up. You were due for a promotion. I was planning to discuss it with you later this week. If you’re looking for a change, we can consider promoting you to a different department.”

Surprise and relief wash over you. “Really? That would be... perfect.”

“Great. Let me work out the details, and I’ll get back to you by the end of the week,” he says, offering a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” you reply, genuinely grateful.

For the rest of the week, you make a conscious effort to avoid Joshua. You adjust your schedule to minimize any potential interactions, keeping your head down and focusing on your work. Whenever you catch a glimpse of him in the hallway or the break room, you quickly divert your path, hoping to remain unnoticed.

The days crawl by, but finally, your boss calls you into his office again. “Y/L/N, I have some good news. We’ve finalized your promotion. Starting next week, you’ll be moving to the Corporate Law Department as a Senior Associate.”

A wave of relief floods over you. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Congratulations, Y/N. I have no doubt you’ll excel in your new role.”

As you leave his office, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Relief at the promotion and the prospect of a fresh start, but also a lingering sadness at how things turned out with Joshua. You throw yourself into your new role, working hard to establish yourself and make the most of the opportunity.

Months go by, and you successfully manage to avoid Joshua. Your new position keeps you busy, and the physical distance between departments helps. Slowly, you begin to find your footing again, the sting of rejection fading with time.

While the rivalry with Joshua may be behind you, the memory of it lingers, a reminder of the complicated dynamics that can exist between two people. But for now, you focus on moving forward, determined to make the most of your career and whatever comes next.

It’s late spring, and Nari is practically glowing with happiness. She and her new boyfriend, Vernon, have been dating for a few months now, and they’ve just decided to take their first trip together. Over one of your weekly lunches, Nari excitedly tells you about the trip.

“Guess what?” Nari exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What’s up?” you ask, smiling at her enthusiasm – it was always nice to see her being so positive, something that’s happened more and more recently.

“Vernon’s friend invited us to stay at his summer house for a few days! It’s going to be amazing – a beautiful lake, lots of relaxation, and just what we need,” she gushes.

“That sounds fantastic,” you reply, genuinely happy for her.

Nari leans in a bit closer. “There’s more. Vernon’s friend said I could invite someone, and I want you to come with us.”

You’re taken aback. “Me? Are you sure? It’s your first vacation together, Nari. I don’t want to intrude.”

Nari shakes her head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll be honest, I need you there. This is a big step for me and Vernon, and having you there would be a huge support. Plus, Vernon’s friend is single, and you never know…”

You laugh and shake your head. “I’m not going for a romantic setup, Nari. But if you need me there, I’ll come.”

Nari beams at you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot to me.”

A week later, you find yourself nestled comfortably in the backseat of Vernon’s car. The gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic swaying of the vehicle create a soothing backdrop as Nari and Vernon engage in lively conversation up front. The bustling cityscape slowly fades away, giving way to a more serene and picturesque countryside. Verdant fields extend endlessly on either side of the road, their lush green expanse interspersed with vibrant wildflowers that flutter playfully in the breeze. As the car's tires glide smoothly over the pavement, you watch the world outside morph into a stunning pastoral scene, the tranquil rhythm of the journey calming your senses.

When Vernon’s car finally rolls to a stop in front of the lake house, your breath catches. The estate before you is nothing short of magnificent, standing majestically against the backdrop of the glistening lake. The grand architecture of the lake house blends seamlessly with the surrounding nature, its wide verandas and large, inviting windows exuding an air of comfort and elegance. The entire property seems to beckon you inside, promising a retreat from the outside world.

You take a moment to soak in the breathtaking view, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace. The lake stretches out like a pristine mirror, reflecting the clear blue sky and the lush, green trees that frame its edges. The late afternoon sun casts long, golden shadows across the landscape, imbuing the scene with a warm, inviting glow. It feels like a perfect sanctuary where the demands of daily life simply melt away.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” you breathe out, your eyes wide with admiration as you take in the idyllic surroundings.

Vernon’s face lights up with pride. “Yeah, it’s quite something, isn’t it? My friend’s doing very well for himself.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn to Vernon. “What does your friend do for a living?”

Vernon chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the moment. “Josh is a lawyer.”

The name hits you like a sudden jolt, and a sense of dread grips you. “Wait, a lawyer? Josh?”

Before Vernon can respond further, you notice a figure approaching the car. A wave of panic washes over you as you recognize the approaching figure.

Joshua Hong.

Desperation surges through you, and you scramble for an excuse. “Nari, can you drop me off at a bus stop or somewhere nearby? I just remembered I have an urgent appointment back home.”

Vernon, oblivious to your distress, steps out of the car to greet Joshua with a friendly wave. Nari, her concern evident, turns to you with a worried expression. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You manage a strained smile, hoping to alleviate her concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a last-minute thing.”

Nari’s concern deepens as she looks around, considering your request. “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any bus stops around here for a while. Is it really that urgent?”

“It’s about to be…” The urgency in your voice is more than noticeable, but you know you have no choice but to face Joshua. With a heavy heart, you brace yourself and step out of the car, greeting him with a curt nod.

“Joshua,” you say, striving to keep your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within you.

“Y/N,” he replies, his tone polite but his eyes revealing a hint of surprise at seeing you.

Vernon, sensing the tension, steps in to diffuse the situation. “Joshua, Y/N is Nari's friend I mentioned earlier.”

Joshua nods politely, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

You muster a tight-lipped smile, doing your best to conceal the inner storm. “Likewise.”

Nari glances between you and Joshua, her curiosity piqued. “You two know each other? From where?”

“From work,” you and Joshua say in unison, the shared response hanging in the air.

Nari’s eyes widen slightly as she processes this. “Oh… it’s that Joshua…” she murmurs under her breath, and you feel a headache beginning to brew by the front of your head.

As you follow Nari and Vernon inside, you can’t shake the feeling that this trip might not be as relaxing as you hoped – especially with Joshua Hong in such close proximity.

The group settles into the lake house, and you’re shown to your rooms by Joshua. Nari and Vernon are assigned the more spacious guest room, leaving you with the smaller one just down the hall from Joshua’s room. It’s a beautiful place, but the proximity to Joshua adds another layer of discomfort. He shows it to you while the other two unpack their bags. When you’ve walked into the room and put your bag down, Joshua leans against the door frame.

“I heard you got a promotion,” he begins, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you reply tersely, not sure where this conversation is headed.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice sincere.

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

“Listen, if I had known that it was you, I would’ve asked Nari to invite someone else,” Joshua admits his words causing a pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” you retort.

“That’s not what I—” he starts to explain, but you cut him off.

“I’ll leave as soon as I figure out a way to get home,” you declare, already planning your escape. "They insisted on driving me here, so I don't exactly have a way of escaping."

“Y/N, you should stay,” Joshua insists, his tone softer now. “I’ve never seen you take time off before. You should enjoy yourself.”

You scoff bitterly. “You think I can enjoy myself when you’re around?”

“I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can,” Joshua offers, ignoring your bitterness. “As long as Nari and Vernon haven’t planned group activities.”

You pause, considering his words. The prospect of leaving this beautiful retreat because of Joshua doesn’t sit well with you, but neither does the thought of spending more time in such close quarters with him.

“... fine. Let’s hope they haven’t,” you concede reluctantly, closing the door with a finality that hangs heavily in the air.

As Joshua walks away, you close the door and lean against it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. This vacation suddenly feels more like a test of endurance than a relaxing getaway.

Despite the close quarters of the lake house, you manage to maintain a respectful distance from Joshua. You navigate the space with a careful precision, orchestrating excuses to linger in the background or to partake in activities where he’s less likely to be present. It's a delicate dance of avoidance—sidestepping eye contact and keeping your conversations short and polite whenever your paths intersect.

One afternoon, Nari proposes a boat ride around the lake. You agree reluctantly, hoping the change of scenery will provide a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable tension that lingers between you and Joshua. As you settle into the boat, the engine’s soft rumble vibrates through the seats, and you take a deep breath, attempting to embrace the moment.

Across from you, Vernon occupies his seat with a quiet, unassuming presence. His warm smile and relaxed demeanor are new to you, as you haven’t had much chance to interact with him until now. He seems genuinely at ease, contrasting sharply with the tension you feel.

“I heard about what happened between you two,” Vernon says, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

You glance over at Joshua, who stands by the steering wheel, showing Nari the intricacies of boat operation. Nari, bundled up in one of Vernon’s oversized sweaters, tugs at the sleeves as she watches Joshua’s every move. She studies the way he operates the boat with knitted brows, nodding along to every other word he says.

Joshua, dressed in his annoyingly perfect white t-shirt and black swimming trunks, looks effortlessly handsome, and it stings to see him so relaxed. His hair is messily slicked back, kept in place by the salty water from his swim earlier- which you definitely didn't witness. Some of the water still clings to his slightly sunburnt skin. A pair of sunglasses sit on the tip of his nose, and you can't really see where he's looking but you hope for everyone's sake that he's looking at the water and not you. With him far enough away to allow for candid conversation, you turn back to Vernon with a sigh.

“Did he tell you everything?” you ask, your voice carrying a trace of exasperation.

“Pretty much,” Vernon responds with a thoughtful hum. “Honestly, I’m on your side. He’s a big flirt.”

“You can say that again.” You take a sip of the cocktail Nari had prepared for the group, the fruity flavor providing a momentary distraction. “I think it’s in his nature…”

Vernon chuckles, lifting his own drink to his lips. There’s something surprisingly comforting about his presence, and you begin to feel a sense of camaraderie with him.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for Nari, by the way,” you say, your tone sincere. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.”

Vernon shrugs modestly, but his small, genuine smile betrays his pleasure. “I just like making her happy... Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Go ahead,” you encourage, curiosity piqued.

“I’ve been thinking of asking her to move in with me,” Vernon confesses, his voice laced with both excitement and nervousness. You hum thoughtfully. “Things have been going so well—so I was considering asking her with flowers, lilies.”

“She’ll love that.” You nod approvingly. “She’s quite the romantic—getting her flowers that she's named after will definitely make her swoon.”

You both chuckle at the thought, glancing over at Nari, who waves cheerfully from her spot. The warmth of the moment makes you realize that Vernon’s proposal is heartfelt and genuine. You turn back to him, offering more advice. “Asking her to move in with you is a great idea. I’m sure she’d love it. She’s just a bit shy when it comes to big gestures. It might be better to do it after the trip, when you’re alone. She likes to keep things private.”

“Good to know.” Vernon nods, setting his glass back down with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m not her best friend for nothing,” you say with a hint of pride.

“True,” Vernon agrees with a smile. “... Can I give you some advice too?”

“Shoot,” you reply, looking at him with an intrigued gaze.

“Try again,” he suggests softly, his tone carrying a note of encouragement. “With Joshua, I mean.”

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” you ask, feeling a mix of hope and skepticism.

“Things have changed...” Vernon’s fingers fidget slightly, as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “I won’t speak for him, but just… give it a try.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say with a resigned sigh. “Maybe I will.”

As the boat glides smoothly across the lake’s tranquil waters, the gentle lap of waves against the hull offers a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within you. The serenity of the lake, combined with Vernon’s unexpected support, provides a welcome escape from the lingering tension at the lake house.

As the vacation nears its end, you find yourself alone with Joshua on the porch one evening – Vernon’s words floating freely in your mind. You’re not sure how you ended up sitting with Joshua, but you were tipsy enough not to care. After the drinks before and during dinner, on top of the beer you’re drinking now, your ability to think of the consequences of your actions has flown out the window. So, sitting next to Joshua on the deckchairs is the least of your worries at the moment.

The sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink hues, casting a warm glow over the lake house porch where the two of you sit. There’s tension in the air, a mix of unresolved rivalry and unspoken attraction that has lingered between you for so long.

Joshua breaks the silence, his voice gentle yet filled with determination. “I heard Vernon’s going to ask Nari to move in with him.”

“He is.” You nod. “It’s sweet.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” he questions.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s only been a few months, they barely know each other… I just think it’s better if they wait.” Joshua takes a sip of his beer.

“I think you’re being pessimistic.” You put down your own bottle of beer. “They’re good for each other. Some people can have all the time in the world and still not work out, why shouldn’t they try it out?”

Joshua pauses, looking over at you with a questioning gaze. You watch the gears turning in his head, and he eventually groans when he comes to a realization. “Vernon told you about my break up, didn’t he?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” You sigh. “It’s not like I pried the information out of him, you know?”

“I know, I just… we have a history that makes everything awkward, somehow,” Joshua says. “It just adds to it, I guess– I should’ve told him not to say anything.”

“It’s fine. Why should I care?” You fidget with your nails.

Joshua placed his half-empty bottle of beer down on the wooden table, the condensation leaving a small ring on the surface. As he did so, he shot a quizzical look in your direction, raising one eyebrow in playful curiosity. A rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, but you quickly attributed it to the alcohol. Nevertheless, unable to contain your amusement, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you returned his gaze with a coy grin and raised your eyebrows inquisitively, silently prompting him to explain his unexpected gesture.

“You don’t care?” he asks, “Not at all? Not one bit?”

“Not at all.” You take another sip of your beer. “Not one bit.”

Joshua hums in disapproval, slowly shaking his head – but his smile gave away that he was joking around. The look he gave you, something secret glittering in his eyes, took you back to all those years ago. He looked the same as he did in university. Maybe his smile lines were a bit more pronounced, and maybe you could find gray hairs if you looked closely, but he was pretty much the same. A proper boy next door with an irresistible charm.

“I could’ve sworn that you asked me out a few months ago,” he argued. “To me, that seems like caring– I don’t know about you.”

“Shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes at him and put your beer bottle down next to his. “Let’s forget about it. I should’ve known you weren’t interested, anyway.”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Joshua confesses. “And who says I’m not interested?”

You cast a furtive glance in Joshua's direction, your eyes widening in surprise, but he responds with a casual shrug. As he sits up, he swings his legs over the deckchair's edge to squarely face you. His tousled hair adds to his disheveled charm, prompting you to sit up a bit and instinctively reach out to straighten it, but you stop yourself just in time. The two of you are seated with your feet pointing toward each other, both of you feeling the weight of anticipation for what might unfold next hanging in the air.

“You’re interested in me?” you ask.

“Why do you think my relationship went to shit?”

You guffaw at his statement as if it was the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. However, Joshua looks back at you with complete seriousness.

“You’re saying you broke up with your ex because of me?” you say.

“I might as well have,” he confesses. “She said I talked too much about you… even went so far as to encourage me to go after you ‘now that I’m single,’ although I don’t think she was being serious with that one.”

Hearing about Joshua’s failing relationship, because of you no less, satisfies the little monster of envy in your chest. You can’t help but laugh at the situation, though you quickly cover your mouth and apologize.

“No, you’re right.” He picks his beer up again and takes a sip. “It is funny.”

“... you talked about me?” you question, and lean forward as if to encourage him to share his secrets. “What did you say?”

“I’m not sure if I should tell,” he mutters and leans forward as well. “Do you really want to know?”

“Desperately,” you say dramatically, making Joshua laugh.

“Most of the time I complained– but apparently my tangents were too flirtatious in nature.”

“That’s just like you.” You nodded. “You flirt with everyone.”

“Of course, you would think that…” he murmurs and glances down at your lips. “The truth is, Y/N… I only flirt with you.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen you! You chat up every woman I’ve ever seen you work with– not to mention the way you always try to flatter our superiors.”

“Flattery and flirting are different, sweetheart.” He puts down the bottle again and moves a little closer to you. “I thought you, out of all people, would’ve noticed that by now.”

You can only stare at Joshua, your mind completely blank of any retaliation that you would usually come up with. Not even when Joshua reached over to you, and grabbed your hand; not even when he pulled you up to your feet and guided you over to where he was sitting, could you come up with anything to say.

You only stare as he grabs your beer from your hand and puts it on the table, before making you straddle his lap. Everything in your mind is screaming at you to do something – you’re surprised by how easily you give in to him, but you do nothing to stop it.

“Is this okay?” he asks and you can only nod in response. “Not feeling so chatty anymore?”

Who is this man? You don’t recognize the Joshua in front of you – when did he gain the ability to make you weak in the knees? With a gentle touch, Joshua traces the skin of your arms until he reaches your hands – which he puts on his shoulders. His every move is slow, giving you the opportunity to deny him. You don’t. Joshua lets out a chuckle at your wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Who even are you?” you manage to whisper.

“Tonight? I’m whoever you want me to be.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I want,” he argues. “Do you?”

You swallow and glance down at his lips, at the way the tip of his tongue darts out to wet them ever so slightly — has he always had such perfectly kissable lips? When Joshua’s hands play with the hem of your shirt, you’re brought back to your senses. He raises his eyebrows, silently repeating his question.

“Fuck it,” you mutter under your breath. “Take me to your room.”

Nari and Vernon are already asleep at the other end of the house, deciding to take an early night after the drinking and constant sun exposure tired them out, so Joshua carries you through the house without worry. He’s already kissing you by the time he opens the door to his bedroom – the only room you haven’t seen in the house.

His bed is neatly made, everything put into place, although you hardly notice it as Joshua’s keeping you much too busy. He throws you on the bed, before crawling up to you himself. You find yourself pinned under him, as he drinks in the sight of you looking like the perfect prey.

“Will you let me have my way with you without biting back tonight, sweetheart?” he murmurs before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

“Depends on if you can shut me up or not,” you tease.

“Oh, you’re just begging to be taught a lesson, aren’t you?”

You shut him up with another kiss, and he smiles against your lips. As your hands find their way under his t-shirt, he pulls away for a second to pull it over his head. Your hands reach out to touch him, admire his toned, sunkissed torso—cursing yourself for saying no when the rest of the group went out to swim earlier today. Joshua’s hands are playing with the hem of your shirt now, and you sit up to take it off. One of his hands cups your still-covered breast, while the other gently caresses your waist.

“Beautiful,” he mutters under his breath before bending down to leave marks along your clavicle.

You turn your head to give him more access, a gasp escaping your lips as his teeth graze against your delicate skin. His hands go behind your back, unclipping the clasp of your bra and pulling the straps down your shoulders.

You cup his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly as you study his flushed face. The intensity in his eyes and the warmth of his skin feel almost surreal, as if this moment is one you’ll never experience again. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, the air around you charged with an electric tension that makes it almost impossible to think clearly.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and desire. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Is it me or is it the alcohol?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, each word laden with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze searching for answers that neither of you seem to have.

Before you have a chance to respond, the space between you closes with a sudden intensity. His lips crash against yours, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body. The world narrows to just the sensation of his kiss, every other thought and concern momentarily forgotten. The tension that had been building between you erupts in this singular, explosive moment, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed.

Joshua pushes one of his knees between your legs, and you moan into his mouth at the contact. The sound ignited something within him, and he began kissing down your body. When he reached the top of your jeans, he expertly undid the button and zipper and pulled the pants off your body. A wet stain is visible on your gray panties, and Joshua presses his thumb against it. An urge to close your legs hits you then, but he’s holding them apart—as if he’s protecting his right to see you like this with his life.

Soon enough, he’s ripping your panties off and diving into your pussy. His tongue is messy, toying with your clit before moving down to your hole. Joshua moans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, as he tastes you. His arms wrap tightly around your thighs, holding you in place. Even if you wanted to escape his ministrations, you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” you moan, “Don’t stop!”

You should know better than to command Joshua to do something. As soon as the words leave your lips, his grip releases and he sits up on his knees. Your orgasm is dragged away from you, and you glare up at Joshua. He only grins back like a madman, his lower face covered in your juices.

With a huff, you sit up and go to unbutton his jeans—desperate to have him feel the same withdrawal. He halts your movements by softly placing his hands over yours, gently guiding them to a stop. You look up at him. His eyes are filled with lust as he cups your cheek, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss. You whimper when you taste yourself on him.

“Do you want me?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Please,” you whine.

“Tell me,” he hums. “Tell me that you want me.”

He leans his forehead against yours, staring into your soul. You can’t allow yourself to say it—you can’t give in to him this easily… right? But you do want him, that’s no secret by now. You don’t just want him, you need him.

“I want you, Joshua…”

With an animalistic growl, he pushes his lips against yours again. You help him get his pants off, your teeth clashing against each other as you move. There’s no time to savor feeling him up over his underwear, he just rips them off.

His calloused hands push you back onto the bed before he pushes your thighs apart again. He watches you like a man starved, waiting for any sign that you don’t want to continue. You reach out for him, and once he’s in your embrace you lock your legs around his waist.

“I give in,” you murmur in his ear. “Have your way with me.”

At your compliance, he aligns his cock with your core and pushes inside of you. The two of you groan at the feeling—something that you hadn’t felt in so long, to the point where you had forgotten how much better it felt than playing with your toys. You trail kisses down his jaw, to his throat. Joshua starts moving his hips against yours, and you find yourself in ecstasy. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he moans hoarsely.

You smile against the skin of his neck, only humming in approval. His dick was bigger than you could’ve imagined, filling you up to the point where you felt completely full, and when he slams into you like your pussy is the best he’s ever had, you can’t help but nearly scream for him. You can only hope that your friends are sound asleep.

“I should’ve done this sooner.” Joshua pants as he leans his forehead against yours. “You feel so good…”

For a moment, you swear that you heard him whine for you. As his hips stutter, you take the opportunity to maneuver yourself on top of him. Once you’re sitting on him, you grind your hips against his before you start bouncing. Joshua sits up, taking one of your tits in his mouth—his hands traveling from your waist to your upper back to push you further against him.

“Do you want to cum inside me, baby?” you ask.

Joshua peers up at you through his lashes, his eyes hazy with lust. His mouth detaches from your body, and you smile at the sight of his glossy and swollen lips. He nods, laying back down to fuck up into you. Joshua’s hands are back on your hips, keeping you still to let him do all the work.

“Holy fffuck–”

You reach your hand down to rub your clit, and Joshua moans as you clench around him. The two of you are babbling incoherently; begging the other to cum with you, telling each other that you’re so close, and letting out unintelligible moans.

By the time you’re cumming, you’re shaking and your eyes are rolling back into your head. You fall against Joshua as he starts slowing down his thrusts. His arms embrace you again, holding your sweaty body against his chest.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, his voice tender and concerned as it brushes against your ear.

“I’m good,” you slur out, struggling to piece together your fragmented thoughts.

For a brief moment, everything goes dark. When consciousness returns, you find yourself lying beside Joshua. The covers are now draped over both of you, cocooning you in a warm embrace. Joshua’s fingers trace gentle, soothing circles on your skin, his touch both comforting and intimate. As your eyes flutter open, you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of relief and affection, and a soft, reassuring smile spreads across his face.

“Hi,” he says, his voice low and gentle, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

“Hi,” you respond, your voice still shaky. “Was I out?”

“Only for a bit,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing their soothing motion. “I got us cleaned up and into bed. You didn’t miss much.” His tone is calming, filled with a quiet confidence that eases the lingering haze from your mind.

You chuckle, moving to lay closer to his chest. "I'm on birth control, by the way... you don't have to worry about any surprises."

Joshua hums in response. Your legs are already sore, but you find comfort in the slight sting. Joshua’s fingers don’t stop drawing circles and the action, along with the rhythm of his breathing, has you almost falling back asleep.

“I missed you after graduation,” he admits with a mutter. “I thought I’d find it peaceful, but I didn’t… I did everything to hide it, but maybe switching companies gave it away.”

“You switched companies for me?” You move to get a better look at him.

“Would it be embarrassing if I said yes?”

“Absolutely.” You grin, and he replies with a smile. 

You stifle a yawn, and Joshua coos at you in a way that you would’ve found annoying—but now, your heart swells a little in your chest. He brushes away a few stray hairs from your face.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight.” You nuzzle your face back into his chest.

“Goodnight.

Morning brings a bittersweet awakening. Despite Joshua’s confession, despite the night you shared together, you can’t bring yourself to stay with him. You know that it would only end with broken hearts and an even more awkward atmosphere at work. No, you can’t stay like this — Joshua’s arms around you, his soft snores, and his calm heartbeat, all make it too real.

You feel the weight of last night’s decisions as you quietly slip out of his embrace. He doesn’t wake up, he merely scrunches his nose and lazily pats the space on the bed to find you. When he doesn’t, he settles for a pillow that he embraces just as he had embraced you prior. Tears begin to sting your eyes, you can’t watch this any longer, and you leave without hesitation.

After changing and grabbing your purse from your room, you find Nari sitting in the kitchen on one of the barstools. She’s snickering to herself while she’s watching Vernon make breakfast– you’d never seen her let go of control in the kitchen before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Joshua could wake up any moment you would’ve stayed and watched. She turns to you with a bright smile once you make yourself known by clearing your throat.

“Good morning!” she chirps, but her smile falters when she sees your wrecked expression. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“I… I need you to drive me to the bus station.” You didn’t mean for your voice to become so shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

“Did something happen?” Vernon asks, but you can’t look at him.

“I just need to go home– I think I’m getting sick,” you lie.

“Oh, well if you just wait a minute, we can pack up and leave all together. I don’t mind leaving early if you’re feeling sick,” Nari says, compassionate as ever.

“No.” You look up at her, trying to silently communicate something with your eyes — what, you’re not really sure. “I need to leave now.”

Nari pauses, thinking it over before eventually nodding. Every second that passes feels like an hour to you, and your friend seems to be able to notice it. She says goodbye to Vernon, telling him to not burn the house down as she plants a kiss on his cheek. You want to throw up.

“I’ll get my jacket.” She grabs the car keys and walks out of the kitchen ahead of you. “Let’s go.” 

The drive is silent, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of emotions left unsaid. Nari understands your need for solitude, respecting your fragile state. The journey feels longer than it should, each passing mile echoing the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

At last, you arrive at the bus stop. She tells you that she’ll bring your bags for you when she and Vernon get back to the city. Before you can step out of the car, she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s Joshua, isn’t it?” she asks and you nod. “Alright. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it… but know that I’ll back you up no matter what.”

With a soft murmur of thanks, you bid Nari farewell, watching her drive away into the distance. Alone at the bus stop, you wait for the bus that will take you back to the familiar confines of your life.

The sun rises higher in the sky, casting a warm glow that hints at new beginnings. As you board the bus, you carry with you the echoes of a night spent in each other’s arms. You sit down in one of the many empty seats, looking out the window to watch the trees fly by and the lake in the distance grow smaller and smaller.

Back at work, you find yourself actively avoiding Joshua, more so than before. Every morning, you arrive early at your desk, burying yourself in tasks and emails, hoping to avoid any unnecessary encounters that might stir up the unresolved emotions from your time at the lake house. 

The tension between you and Joshua doesn't go unnoticed by your colleagues. They whisper about the shift in dynamics, speculating on the nature of your interactions and the underlying reasons for your distance. Despite their curiosity, no one dares to address the elephant in the room, leaving the unspoken tension to hang heavy in the air.

For you, avoidance isn't just about uncertainty in your feelings for Joshua; it's also about safeguarding your professional reputation and maintaining a sense of control over your emotions. Sleeping around with someone at the office – let alone, someone who’s under you in rank – is enough to stir up headache-inducing drama.

As the weeks pass, you remain resolute in your avoidance, navigating the delicate balance between personal desires and professional boundaries. The workplace becomes a battleground of unspoken words and missed opportunities, with both you and Joshua wondering if there's a way to reconcile the growing attraction with the realities of your professional lives.

Amidst the uncertainty, you and Joshua find yourselves at a crossroads, unsure of whether to pursue what could be or maintain the status quo. The aftermath of your intimate encounter at the lake house lingers.

When you hear the news of Nari moving in with Vernon, you’re ecstatic – and when you see his apartment, you’re in awe. The luxurious condo has two stories and although the loft area is smaller, it’s still impressive. You hadn’t ever thought to ask Vernon what he does for a living, but clearly, it pays well.

As Nari excitedly shows you around the apartment, your heart swells for her. This is all that she had wanted; she had a stable job and a stable relationship, and now one of the most impressive apartments you had ever seen. Once you have seen every crevice of the home, she invites you to a housewarming party that she’s hosting later tonight.

“Isn’t a housewarming party for people who move into a new place?” you ask with a smile.

“Well, yeah– but I’m moving into a new place, so it still counts!”

You laugh with her, congratulating her once again on her new place and promising her that you’ll definitely be there tonight. As you leave through the dining room, you spot a bouquet of lilies sitting pretty in a vase. The memories of yours and Vernon’s conversation bring back memories of the lake house; memories of Joshua. You paint on a smile as you say goodbye, promising to swing by later to help with preparations.

Nari’s excitement is contagious as she organizes a lively housewarming party. The space is adorned with cheerful decorations: vibrant streamers hanging from the ceiling, colorful balloons clustered in the corners, and a beautifully set table brimming with snacks and drinks. Friends gather, their chatter and laughter filling the room, ready to toast to the new chapter in Nari's life.

You arrive, trying to mask the unease lingering beneath the surface. You know that Joshua might be here – or might stop by for a moment, but that’s enough for you to go into full-on fight or flight mode. As you walk in, Nari greets you with a warm hug.

“I'm so glad you could make it!” Nari beams, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, forcing a smile. Inside, though, your heart feels heavy.

As the party progresses, the merriment around you contrasts sharply with the turmoil within. You watch Nari and Vernon laughing together, their connection undeniable. Every affectionate glance they share feels like a knife twisting in your chest. Are you really about to lose your best friend to a friend of Joshua’s? Does he have to take everything from you? The unresolved tension with Joshua weighs heavily on your mind, clouding your judgment along with the many drinks you sneak from the kitchen.

You hate yourself for feeling this way, opting to stay in a corner of the living room to take a moment to breathe. However, the good friend that she is, Nari comes to check up on you.

“Are you alright? You’re not bored, right?” she asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

Your eyes are drawn to a sudden rising volume from the hallway, somebody just arrived. Joshua walks into the living room, still in his suit from work – he had probably been working overtime before he got here. He’s lively chatting away with Vernon, and you feel a clump building up in your chest. You swallow looking back at Nari, who looks as worried as ever.

“I’m just worried about you,” you admit.

“Worried about me?” She chuckles. “Why?”

“This thing with Vernon just seems to be moving too fast. Maybe you shouldn’t.” Your words are sharp as knives, and you can see how they cut through Nari’s bubbly personality.

“What are you talking about?” Nari furrows her eyebrows, her lips forming into a small pout as they always did when she was irritated.

“You’ve only known him for a few months–”

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on relationships? Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re not thinking straight!”

In a moment of emotional vulnerability, fueled by your own insecurities and the effects of a few too many drinks, you lash out at Nari. The noise of the party seems to fade as you focus on her, your voice rising.

“Be honest. Do you really think this is a good idea, Nari?” you blurt out, your words slurring slightly. “Moving in with Vernon so soon? You’re rushing into this without thinking!”

“Vernon and I are happy. This is what I want.”

“It’s not about what you want, it’s about what’s smart!” you snap, projecting your frustrations about your non-existent relationship with Joshua onto her newfound happiness. “You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

The room falls silent, the party atmosphere dims as tension fills the space. Nari’s eyes well up with tears.

“I thought you were happy for me,” she says, her voice trembling. “Why are you being like this?”

Unable to contain your emotions, you storm out of the party, leaving behind a bewildered Nari and a gathering of uncomfortable guests. The weight of your actions settles heavily on your shoulders as you retreat into the night, grappling with regret and remorse for hurting your friend.

Alone in the quiet of the night, you reflect on the events that transpired. You realize that your anger towards Nari was misplaced, a manifestation of your own internal struggles rather than a reflection of her actions.

The guilt gnaws at you, urging you to confront the root of your insecurities and face the truths you've been avoiding. You walk as far as you can, which is just a block away before your feet start hurting from your heels. You huff over your uncomfortable shoes as you lean against a pole to try to take them off.

Concern etched on his face, Joshua steps out into the cool night air, searching for you. The city streets are bustling, but he spots you, slightly disoriented and clearly in need of assistance. Without hesitation, he approaches, gently guiding you with a steady hand. He makes you put your foot back down on the ground and bends down to fix the strap you had managed to loosen before he stands back up

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?” Joshua asks, his voice is soft and concerned.

You’re surprised to see Joshua, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you as he helps steady your steps. Your mind races, trying to recall your address, but the fog of alcohol clouds your thoughts.

“I... I don’t know,” you mumble, your voice shaky. “I just yelled at my best friend about her perfect relationship, embarrassed myself in front of all of our friends, I’m cold and- and my fucking feet hurt!”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Joshua reacts quickly by gently slipping off his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders, providing warmth and comfort. Realizing the urgency of the moment, Joshua signals for a passing taxi and assists you as you climb into the back seat.

“What’s your address?” he asks.

However, over the drunken rambles and ugly sobs, he can’t hear a word that you’re saying. You wrap your arms around his bicep, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You mumble something about just wanting to sleep. With a sigh, Joshua tells the driver his address and asks him to drive carefully. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at his condo, as it was only a few blocks away. The warmth and familiarity offer a stark contrast to the chaotic night outside. He ensures you’re settled comfortably on the couch as he helps you off with your shoes. Joshua mutters something about getting you a glass of water, and you hum in response. A few seconds later, he’s back with a tall glass of water which he makes you drink in its entirety.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Okay, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Joshua gently guides you deeper into his apartment, his hand steady and reassuring on your back. You stumble slightly, the room spinning around you as you struggle to stay upright. When you reach the bathroom, he helps you sit down on the toilet seat, his touch careful and considerate. The cool porcelain feels surprisingly comforting against your flushed skin, and you lean back, feeling a wave of relief as the spinning sensation subsides a little.

After a minute, Joshua returns, his presence a welcome anchor in the disorienting haze. He places a pile of clothes neatly by the sink, their crisp, clean fabric a stark contrast to the disarray you feel inside. Alongside them, he sets down a box of makeup wipes, their crisp packaging promising a small, fresh start. Without a word, he leaves you alone, allowing you the space to collect yourself.

Once you’re dressed and feeling a bit steadier, you step out of the bathroom. The sight of Joshua waiting for you, his expression a mix of concern and care, brings a pang of guilt. His eyes soften as he takes in your appearance, and he offers a supportive smile as he helps guide you to the bedroom.

The journey to his bed is slow and steady, his hand a constant, reassuring presence on your arm. As you settle into the softness of the bed, the comfort of the sheets and the warmth of the room contrast sharply with the turmoil still churning inside you.

“I’m sorry–” you start, but Joshua quickly hushes you.

“Just rest,” Joshua says gently. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod, grateful for his kindness as you close your eyes, the events of the night replaying in your mind. The weight of your actions and the need to address your inner turmoil hang heavily, but for now, you allow yourself to be enveloped by the warmth and safety of Joshua’s care.

As morning light filters through unfamiliar surroundings, you stir awake, feeling disoriented and unsure of where you are. Panic momentarily sets in as you try to piece together the events of the previous night. Your mind races with fragmented memories, leaving you uncertain about who you spent the night with.

Just then, the door opens quietly, and Joshua steps into the room with a gentle smile. Your heart skips a beat as you see him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Did you seriously sleep with Joshua for a second time in your drunken state? What did your drunk self have against your sanity?

“Morning,” Joshua says softly, his smile is warm but his eyes are filled with concern.

You sit up quickly, clutching the blanket to your chest. “Joshua, did we...?” you start, your voice trailing off in embarrassment.

He shakes his head, sensing your unease. “No, you slept in here,” he explains calmly, gesturing to the bed. “I took the couch to make sure you were comfortable.”

Relief floods you as you realize your assumption was wrong. “Oh, thank you,” you reply, nodding awkwardly, trying to collect yourself amidst the morning haze.

Joshua gives you a reassuring smile. “I made some breakfast. Why don't you join me in the kitchen?”

You follow Joshua with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment, the weight of the previous night still heavy on your shoulders. As you enter his elegantly furnished kitchen, you’re struck by the refined simplicity of the space. The morning light filters softly through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished countertops and tasteful décor.

You sit across from Joshua at a beautifully set breakfast table. The gentle clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of the coffee maker are the only sounds that break the stillness of the calm morning.

As you begin to nibble on your food, your movements are tentative and slow, each bite a small effort to ground yourself. The flavors are comforting, but your mind is still tangled in the events of the night before. The tranquility of the kitchen contrasts sharply with the turmoil you feel inside, and you find yourself grappling with the lingering embarrassment while trying to process the events that led you here.

“How are you feeling?” Joshua asks, his voice gentle.

You sigh, looking down at your plate. “Honestly, a mess… I was so awful to Nari last night. I don’t know what came over me.”

Joshua leans forward, his expression attentive. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Although the situation was strange, you feel yourself fully able to talk to Joshua like this. The vulnerability in your voice is obvious as you begin to share your inner turmoil. “Seeing Nari so happy with Vernon just... it brought out all my insecurities. God– I hate myself for what I said to her.”

Joshua listens attentively, his presence a surprising comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions. “We all have moments we're not proud of,” he says softly. “But recognizing them is the first step to making things right.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes. “I don't know how to fix this. I’ve hurt her, and I don't know if she’ll forgive me.”

“Give her some time,” Joshua advises. “And when you're ready, talk to her. Be honest about what you're going through. She'll understand.”

In the course of the conversation, there is a sense of relief and lightness as Joshua's empathetic and genuinely concerned responses provide reassurance. Yet, the enduring pain remains. The guilt for the actions towards Nari is now overshadowed by the guilt for the actions directed at Joshua.

“I’m sorry, Joshua,” you say. “I shouldn’t just have left.”

“You had your reasons.” Joshua lifts his coffee cup to his lips. “And I can’t say that I blame you– it was a little too much too fast. I told Vernon after you had left… you should’ve seen his face.”

The two of you break out into soft laughter, the tension between you slowly dissipating. The picture of Vernon’s shocked face is just too clear in your mind, and you end up letting out a snorting laugh. You both pause as you’re struck with embarrassment. When you look up at Joshua, you see a flash of opportunity glimmer in his eyes.

“Don’t,” you warn, but it’s too late.

Joshua struggled to stifle his laughter, but he couldn't help but emit a few chuckles. Under normal circumstances, you would have felt angry at his reaction. However, in the current situation, his amusement was contagious, and you found yourself unable to contain a smile.

“You know,” you say, “I’m actually glad you’re here. You’ve been more supportive than I could have asked for, and definitely more than I deserve.”

Joshua returns the smile, his eyes warm. “I’m just happy I could help.”

As the morning sun filters through the window, you find yourself sitting in the cozy intimacy of Joshua’s kitchen, sharing a heartfelt breakfast and conversation. In that tender moment, you feel a sense of clarity washing over you, marking a pivotal turning point in your relationship.

Realizing the weight of your words and actions from the previous night, you understand the need to mend fences with Nari. With a resolve fueled by introspection, you decide to take the first step toward reconciliation. You leave Joshua’s apartment to go back home, feeding Tofu and freshening up before you sit down on your bed with your phone in your hand.

Gathering your thoughts, you reach out to Nari, your fingers trembling slightly as you type a message on your phone. 

Hey Nari, I really want to apologize for last night. Can we meet up? I’ll be at our usual spot at 3.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, a reply comes through. It’s a simple “Sure,” but it’s more than enough for you. You breathe a sigh of relief and quickly agree. The hours until the meeting drags by, your mind racing with thoughts of how to articulate your heartfelt apology.

At the café, you arrive early and sit down by your usual table, nervously fiddling with your cup of coffee. You’re not sure if she’ll even show up, and you wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, but she, nevertheless, walks in through the door. When Nari walks in, you wave her over, standing up to greet her. She offers a tentative smile, but the hurt is still evident in her eyes. The atmosphere between you is thick with tension as she sits down.

“Hi,” you start, your voice trembling slightly. “Thanks for coming.”

Nari nods curtly, her expression guarded. Taking a deep breath, you dive in. “I’m really sorry for what I said last night. I know I hurt you, and that was never my intention. I let my own frustrations and insecurities get the better of me, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair, and I deeply regret it.”

Nari’s eyes remain hard, but she listens quietly. The tension is still there, hanging heavily in the air.

“The… incident with Joshua freaked me out a lot– I hadn’t been able to get it off my mind, and the thought of seeing him at your party only made it worse,” you continue, your voice wavering. “I guess, seeing you so happy with Vernon made me scared. I projected my emotions onto your situation. I know it’s no excuse for what I said...”

Nari’s expression softens slightly, but she remains silent, contemplating your words.

“I really am sorry, Nari. You didn’t deserve any of that,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nari takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a little. “I understand where you’re coming from,” she says finally, her tone gentle. “I should’ve thought about your situation with Joshua... and I appreciate you being honest with me about what you’re going through.”

The tension in the air begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of tentative understanding. “We all have our moments. What matters is that we’re able to talk about it and move forward,” Nari continues, a small smile forming on her lips.

"So, you'll forgive me?"

Nari pretends to think for a moment, before breaking out into a big smile. "I'll forgive you."

A wave of relief washes over you as you hear her words. “Oh, thank you, Nari. I promise I’ll do better.”

Nari reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “I know you will… also you owe me a coffee.”

You release a hearty laugh, then briskly make your way to the barista to request another cup of coffee. As you return to your seat, you notice Nari gazing at you with a look of worry etched into her gentle smile.

“Did you get home okay last night?” she asks.

“I… didn’t get home,” you admit.

“What? You didn’t sleep outside, did you?” Her eyes widen as she raises her voice ever so slightly.

“Actually…” You lean forward and lower your voice. “I ended up at Joshua’s place.”

“What?”

You quickly shush her, and she repeats her “What?” in a lower volume. You smile at her, and she raises her eyebrows in a silent question. You shake your head.

“He took me home and let me sleep in his bed– he even slept on the couch,” you say. “I think… I’ll try asking him out again.”

“Really?” Nari gasps but quiets down as her coffee arrives.

She thanks the barista and waits for him to be out of earshot before she lets out an excited “Oh my god!” The two of you quickly fall into your usual banter.

It had been a long, arduous day at work, and you were finally ready to head home. The rain pattered against the office windows, creating a soothing yet melancholic backdrop to your thoughts. You hadn’t spoken to Joshua since that morning in his kitchen, and the awkwardness between you lingered like an unspoken shadow.

As you gathered your things and made your way to the exit, you unexpectedly bumped into Joshua. His eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.

“Hey,” he said softly, holding up his umbrella. “Looks like we’re leaving at the same time.”

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Didn’t realize it was raining this hard. I would’ve taken the car this morning if I’d known.”

“Here,” he offered, extending the umbrella. “You can use this. I’ll be fine.”

You hesitate but then nod. “Thanks… How about we share it? We’re both going the same way, right?”

Joshua smiles, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of you walked in silence under the umbrella, the rain a steady rhythm around you. It felt strange yet comforting to be so close to him after everything that had happened. When you reached the bus stop, the awkwardness slowly began to dissipate.

On the bus, Joshua found seats for both of you and as the vehicle jolted into motion, he broke the silence. “So, how’s everything with Nari?”

You smiled, genuinely happy. “We’re good. We talked it out, and we’re fine again.”

Joshua’s face lit up. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you two don’t have to go through something like that again.”

You chuckled, teasingly. “Well, that depends on whether you're going to keep messing around with me or not.”

He looked at you with a soft smile, a serious look in his eyes. “I don’t want to mess around anymore.”

The bus pulled to a stop near your apartment. As you both got off, the rain still coming down, Joshua turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest.

“Would you go out with me if I asked?” he asked, sincerity in his eyes.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. “Yes.”

“Good...” He smiled, approaching you and taking your hands in his. “Go out with me?”

“You can do better than that,” you tease and he lets out a chuckle.

“Can you give me the pleasure of taking you out this weekend, sweetheart?” he asks again with a playful smile.

“Sure you can.”

It was still raining and there was no sign of stopping. You knew that if you went separate ways now, he’d give you his umbrella. Not wanting to be the cause of his cold, you invited him to your place. “Why don’t you come to my place and dry off? It’s just around the corner.”

The two of you walk under Joshua’s umbrella together, your shoulders brushing against each other. You speak of whatever comes to mind, mostly work and the cases you’re currently busy with – although the subject matter is something you usually keep at work, you don’t mind the banter.

When you arrive at your apartment, you open the door for Joshua as he shakes off the rain from his umbrella. The two of you get into the elevator, a tension building up that is unlike the ones you had felt before. Excitement is the only word you can use to describe it.

The building is tall, and you live far up, so the elevator takes its time to climb up the floors. Joshua stands next to you, his hand brushing against yours for a while. He takes it in his hand once the elevator doors open and lets you lead the way to your front door. His hand is warm in yours, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You only let go of his hand once the two of you stand in front of your door. Unable to keep his hands off of you for long, Joshua wraps his arms around your waist while you try to unlock your door. You let out a giggle, so unlike the laughs you have let out before that, you barely recognize it as your own, while your shaky hands struggle with the lock. When you finally open the door, you immediately spot a white, furry ball. Tofu meows at you, clearly annoyed with your late arrival.

“A cat.” Joshua’s voice is laced with surprise as he lets go of you.

You walk further into your apartment to pet Tofu, but he quickly sneaks past you and struts over to Joshua. He closes the door behind him quickly, scared that Tofu might walk out. Tofu has no interest in the outside, instead, he walks between Joshua’s legs and purrs.

“I thought I’d end up single for the rest of my life and decided to start early with the cats,” you quip playfully. “Tofu… really likes you.”

“Is that odd?” Joshua squats down and puts out his hand for Tofu to sniff. 

“He doesn’t like strangers…” you say, “Or anyone.”

Joshua grins at you as Tofu practically jumps into his arms. He stands back up with the cat in his embrace before he kicks off his shoes. You glare at your cat for betraying you, but Tofu barely meets your gaze.

“He’s cute,” Joshua says. “... and hairy.”

You look at Joshua’s black suit, completely covered in white fur. Quickly, you apologize and take Tofu from him. The cat lets out an irritated meow but doesn’t fight back. When Tofu has walked away, you take Joshua’s suit jacket and hang it up. You show him around the apartment, sneaking glances at him as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-down and loosens his tie. 

Eventually, the two of you found yourselves on the comfortable couch, indulging in a late-night meal created from the delicious remnants of takeout food in your refrigerator. The ambiance was soothing and unhurried, a welcome change from the earlier palpable strain. Tofu was nestled by Joshua’s side, emitting a robust and consistent purr akin to a well-oiled machine working at full capacity.

Joshua looked around your cozy apartment and then back at you. “This isn’t our first date, is it?”

You laughed softly. “It could be.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I want our first date to be special.”

You looked into his eyes, leaning over to put your hand on his knee. “It could be special if you wanted it to be.”

That’s how the two of you end up in your bedroom, with him on top of you. Joshua’s slowly thrusting into you, savoring every second. His forehead leans against yours, your hands traveling across each other’s bodies. Soft moans and gasps echo throughout the room, the noises mixing with the sounds of the bedsheets and the gentle rain against your windows.

“What are you doing to me?” Joshua sighs deeply, closing his eyes as if trying to steady himself.

“Is it really just me?” you ask playfully, although your voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s only you,” he reassures, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that cuts through the confusion.

You smile, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. He surrounds you, embraces you, holds you, consumes you… The build-up is undeniable, and it only becomes more intense as Joshua’s hand travels between your bodies to rub lazy circles on your clit. He captures your lips in another kiss, slow and satisfactory. Whines and whimpers emanate from both of you as you near your high.

“I’m still on birth control,” you remind Joshua with a murmur against his lips.

Joshua groans at the silent promise of getting to cum inside you again. Ever since the last time he got a taste of you, he swears that he’s addicted. His hips stutter, and you clench around him to urge him closer to his release.

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Cum with me, baby,” you murmur.

Joshua releases inside of you with a moan, and your orgasm follows shortly after. A light encompasses you, flooding your veins with a kind of warmth that you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced. He stays inside of you even when his movements stop, his head finding its place in the crook of your neck. You rake your nails up his back until they find their way to the nape of his neck.

You press a kiss to his temple while you play with his hair. Joshua responds by pressing loving kisses to your neck. The two of you fall asleep just as he pulls out of you and lies down beside you under the covers.

As the gentle, golden glow of the morning sun filters through the delicate lace curtains, you slowly stir, feeling the warmth of his body and the reassuring strength of his embrace. In that soft, hushed moment, you find yourself waking up to a sense of peace and contentment that has been absent for what feels like an eternity.

As you try to get up to make breakfast, Joshua tightens his hold on you. “Don’t go,” he murmurs, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You laugh softly, kissing his forehead. “I need to get ready.”

He pouts playfully. “Stay here a little longer.”

You kiss him again, your heart full. “How about I get up if I promise to make you breakfast?”

Joshua pretends to think it over, then grins. “Deal.”

Your laughter fills the air as you rise from the bed, his warm hand gently holding onto yours just a moment longer. The morning was idyllic, brimming with shared laughter, precious moments, and the assurance of many more beautiful experiences together in the future.

As you and Joshua continue to move forward together, your journey unfolds as a delicate dance, intertwining professional ambitions with the deepening of your personal connection. Each day brings its own set of challenges, which you navigate hand-in-hand, discovering and growing through each other’s strengths and vulnerabilities.

You find solace in the way you support one another through the ebb and flow of your careers. Joshua’s unwavering faith in your potential becomes a beacon, encouraging you to reach beyond your comfort zone. In moments of self-doubt, his reassuring words and confident smile serve as a reminder of your capabilities, helping to reignite your determination.

In turn, you offer Joshua a steady anchor during his more tumultuous times. When he faces the pressure of a particularly grueling project or grapples with a professional setback, you’re there to remind him to pause and believe in his own strength. Your quiet support helps him regain his footing, providing him with the confidence to overcome the hurdles in his path.

With each shared success and challenge, your mutual respect grows deeper. Celebrating each other’s victories becomes a treasured ritual, whether it’s the joy of popping a bottle of champagne for a well-earned promotion or finding solace in each other’s company during quiet nights when things don’t go as planned. Every experience strengthens your bond, seamlessly weaving your lives together.

As you reflect on your journey, it becomes clear that embracing vulnerability and letting go of old insecurities has allowed you to discover not only love but also a profound sense of personal fulfillment. Joshua’s presence in your life has illuminated the truth that true growth often emerges from facing fears and embracing new possibilities.

One evening, curled up on the couch with Tofu nestled comfortably by your feet, you admit with a contented sigh, “I never thought I could be this happy.”

Joshua smiles warmly, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. With a playful glint in his eye, he teases, “I know a few things that could make you even happier.”

“Shut up,” you reply, playfully swatting his chest.

Joshua’s laughter fills the room as he pulls you closer, enveloping you in his comforting embrace. You sigh contentedly as his familiar scent surrounds you, finding comfort in the perfect harmony of the moment. Even though you still have your moments of bickering and face the occasional rough patch like any other couple, you realize that this shared experience is as perfect as it gets.

feedback is always appreciated!

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[akamitrani]

omg i just read your dht fanfic and it was so good!! if your taking requests could i request that reader is married to david and she was with him on the set if terrifier (2024) and reader asks him to make love to her with his Art costume still on? Thanks!’ (sorry if this makes no sense lmao)

— The After-Hours Act —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, costume kink, roleplay (?), kissing, pining, choking, rough sex, public sex (well, kind of).

Summary: It's late at night, filming is practically done. Your husband, David, gives his final performance of the day.

[A/N: Omg hi, yes I accept requests! Thank you so much for liking my last fic 🤍 Hope you enjoy this one too, it's my first time doing smut. I absolutely loved the idea and probably had way too much fun with it lol.]

The set was alive with chaos. Flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows against the cracked walls, making the abandoned warehouse look even more sinister. Fake blood is pooled on the concrete floor and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, latex and the metallic tang of stage blood.

In the middle of it all stood David, fully transformed into the unnervingly silent and grotesque Art the Clown. His smile stretched wide under the white mask, black lips curling into a grimace that was equal parts amusing and horrifying.

You watched from the shadows just beyond the set, your eyes never leaving him. David had always been able to command a room and, as Art the Clown, he held a power that drew you in no matter how many times you had seen him in character.

The director yelled “Let's wrap it up!” and the tense energy of the set dissipated like smoke. David instantly broke character, his terrifying expression melting into his usual boyish grin as he exchanged a few words with the crew. His eyes flicked over to you and he gave you a subtle wink.

Your heart skipped a beat as he made his way toward you, still in full costume. The other crew members busied themselves with cleanup, leaving you and David in a pocket of relative privacy.

“Enjoy the show?” – he teased, voice low and familiar despite the eerie costume.

You couldn’t help but smile, mix of nerves and excitement – “You were terrifying, as always. But...” – you replied, eyes lingering on the smeared makeup around his lips – “I have a little request tonight”

David’s brow quirked in curiosity, he stayed silent, slipping back into Art’s mute persona for a moment. You took a deep breath, stepping closer so only he could hear your words...

“Can you stay in costume... For a little playtime, with me?” you whispered getting closer to him, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

For a split second you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glimmer... He understood the idea. He nodded slowly, slipping fully back into character, his smile turning wickedly playful. Stepping back, he walked towards the door of the warehouse, locking it.

You felt a thrill shoot down your spine, you were completely alone with him now – No crew, no distractions. He moved closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. The game had begun.

David – or rather, Art – stopped just inches away, tilting his head in that unnerving, silent way.

“Are you sure about this?” – he whispered, the question hanging in the air like a dare. You could see it in his eyes, he was more than ready to play along. You wanted to see just how far he would take it, how much you could handle... You nodded.

Without warning, he lunges forwards, pining you against a cold concrete wall. A gasp escapes your lips as his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to send a wave of adrenaline through your body.

The pressure of his hand on your throat sends waves of heat between your legs, your breath coming out in short gasps. He leaned in closer, his painted lips brushing your ear, he remained silent, true to Art's unsettling nature.

You whimpered softly, feeling the undeniable desire. David's grin widened and he pushed you harder against the wall, his free hand slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his growing bulge against your thigh, his gloves rough against your skin. His eyes bored into yours demanding submission.

You gave in willingly, letting him take control over you. The grip on your throat tightened just slightly, enough to make you even more wet.

“David...” – You breathed his name. A futile attempt to break the spell of Art's menacing silence.

But he wasn't ready to break character yet. Instead, he released his hold on your throat and captured your lips in a messy kiss, taste of makeup and sweat mixing between you two.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you. For a moment you thought he might speak, but instead he let out that eerie silent laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked at you with a mocking expression.

“You really are good at this...” – You said, voice husky with arousal and fear.

He flashed that terrifying grin again and in a heartbeat lifted you up in his arms. You look at him with a surprised look as he carries you to the prop bed in the set and carefully throws you in it. He hovers on top of you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. This time you completely feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, making you moan – “Hmm yes...”

David's hands start to wander around your body, you're completely under him, completely at his mercy. His fingers slid under your dress pushing it up, revealing your black lacy set of lingerie. He pulled back and paused for a moment, he had an idea, suddenly getting out of bed – you look at him confused.

"David? What happened?" – You asked, afraid you did something wrong. He doesn't speak, instead he silently laughs gesturing for you to wait with an excited expression.

You watch him happily reach for Art's infamous black trash bag that was in a corner, open it dramatically and start looking for something inside of it. You were about to say something, but before you could do that he threw the bag away, in his hand is a black knife with fake blood still on it. He smiles devilishly pointing to the knife... then you. You freeze, feeling genuine horror with his actions now.

David senses your growing tension and gestures with both hands as what can be understood as 'relax, I'm not going to hurt you... probably'. What an imp. He starts crawling on top of the bed towards you with a hungry look, reaching your legs. He signals for you to open them and you gladly do so, without asking questions. He pauses for a moment as if savoring the situation, the position you're in – He gives you his trademark creepy smirk.

He reaches for your panties, his finger lifted one of the side edges and in a swift motion he uses the knife to slash it, removing it and revealing your throbbing cunt – now on full display for him. You inhale sharply, the cold air making you shiver. He throws away the knife and your undies somewhere around the set.

He pulls you towards him roughly, demanding, pushing your legs more far apart. You notice his bulge is very prominent now, poking through his clown costume. David hovers above you, one hand beside your head and the other ghostly stroking your sensitive bud making you moan. You don't want to wait, can't handle teasing now – you shift slightly as a form of protest.

“Fuck me now” – You breathlessly groan

He stopped in his tracks and looked you dead in the face, up until now he has been real soft with you, taking things slowly... But if you're such a needy bitch with no patience then he will give you exactly what you want.

David pulls back slightly and gathers your legs in front of him, pushing you to the side forcing you to change positions. Your back now is exposed to him, your ass completely tilted up, he uses his knee to once more spread your legs. You tried to look back at him but he shoved your head down in the bed and unspokenly demanded you to stay this way. Not wanting to defy him again you accept his command.

You stayed like this for a few seconds wondering why nothing has happened, you couldn't help but listen to your surroundings, especially behind you – focusing on any sound, any clue to what will happen. Unbeknownst to you, your husband – Art, at the moment – was dazed at the sight before him. Pussy swollen with desire and wetness threatening to drip down your groin, enough to make his dick beg to be released.

A sudden sharp noise of tearing cloth invaded your ears, making you jump a little bit. You were scared to look back but your curiosity was louder at the moment and you couldn't help but slightly glance to the source of the sound. David had torn his clown suit to free his dick, now holding his fully erect member in his hand leaking in precum, pumping it a few times.

He caught you looking and in a futile attempt you tried to avert your gaze, too late now. He smiled wickedly and as punishment, he gave you an unexpected ruthless slap to your butt, making you hiss in both shock and pleasure. The stinging sensation only adding to your burning heat. He continued – two, three, four, five slaps – smacking until you were moaning for the pain, for him.

“Mmm-aah fuck” – you moaned – “fuck me, just fuc-”

Your phrase cut short when he entered your pussy, shoving his dick deep inside you then completely out in a excruciatingly slow speed. He was taunting you, giving you what you wanted but not in the way intended to.

“Mmmm Dave, please ah- please...” – You cried out. You could feel the clown smirking behind you.

David started picking up speed, pounding hard, grabbing your waist for stability. There will definitely be some purple digits engraved there tomorrow.

You can hear his ragged breath and occasional whimpers, you're surprised he could maintain Art's silent persona this far. David is usually quite vocal, he enjoys praising you during sex. The difference is noticeable, you're still unsure about it... On the other hand, his much more dominant demeanor when portraying Art makes up for it.

He takes his dick out and flips you on your back to face him again, he takes your legs and puts them on his shoulder. He promptly aligned his shaft with your entrance again, staring directly at you. David's half-lidded blue eyes peaking through the white mask, black lips slightly open indicating breathlessness. Pounding you, he pushed your bra out of the way, he loved the erotic sight of your tits bouncing just for him.

His cock deliciously hit your sweet spot with expertise – he just knows how to make you feel good – feeling the climax build up more and more on your stomach on each thrust he gives, you're almost there.

He leans in closer to you, one of his hands grabs your throat while the other stays at your waist, pining you completely onto the bed. He's choking you mercilessly, cutting your oxygen this time.

David picks up his speed really fast, making the prop bed creak loudly, the sound of rough slapping skin filling the set – Your orgasm threatening to crash down. The stimulation is overwhelming and you can't hold it anymore.

His dick hits hard and deep in your pussy – you deliciously cum, your juices spilling all over his shaft. He nods maniacally feeling your tightening warm cunt around his cock, it was all that he needed to reach his peak – closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he ejaculates inside you with one final thrust. He releases the hold on your neck allowing you to gasp for air.

You see his face contorting and you think he might break character now. Instead he opened his eyes and smiled at you while clapping his hands cheerfully. The way he stayed silent, embodying Art’s menacing playfulness, drove you to the edge.

He removes himself from you, sweating, panting. You suddenly feel the exhaustion and so does he – literally plopping himself on the bed, by your side.

“I love you so much, you know that?” – he finally spoke after some minutes, the real David finally breaking through.

It was such a relief to hear his voice again – “I love you too... Even when you're being a complete psycho” – you teased, still breathless.

David laughed, genuinely – “I hope I wasn't too rough” – he said, pressing his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting embrace.

“Maybe a little” – you admitted, resting your hands against his chest – “But I like it when you surprise me”

David smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of your head, filled with all the tenderness you knew him for. It was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment.

“Thank you” – he murmured – “For loving all sides of me... Even the creepy ones”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his chest – “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

You knew this was a moment you’d cherish – a memory of the man you loved, both the sweet husband and domineering clown... And tonight, you have experienced both.

“Alright, alright. I think we've given Art enough playtime for one night.” - he murmured, gently caressing your back. He kissed you one last time before preparing to get out of bed.

“I think I'll have to buy another clown costume” – he joked, pointing at his groin area, where he had ripped the fabric.

“And new panties for me, ruined my favorite one” – you added with a fake pout pointing at the long gone undies, currently at the floor. (rip undies)

“Yeah, sorry about that... I- I don't know what I was doing honestly” – he said looking down

“No, no. None of that. I loved everything. All of it.” – You quickly replied, forcing him to look at you. You could swear you saw a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“C'mon, let's get out of here” – He said sweetly, slipping his hand into yours – “We've had enough fun for one night”

Some minutes later as you both walked out of the darkened set hand in hand, you realized what you had just experienced was a moment you'd never forget. Fear, love and desire collided in the most thrilling way.

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later. 

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground. 

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and  took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained. 

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage. 

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head. 

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there. 

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke. 

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them. 

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?” 

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air. 

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’  

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too. 

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life. 

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes,  became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection. 

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own. 

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her. 

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength. 

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation. 

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore. 

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing. 

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence. 

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!” 

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly. 

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home. 

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.”  He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?” 

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

[jamesmcalover]

Dreamwalking

First Class!Charles Xavier x Mutant!Reader

Warnings: a bit spicy i guess? but no actual smut. idk what happened here... not proof read

Summary: the reader has the ability to enter people's dreams and stumbles across the one of Charles Xavier

Until finding out that mutants existed, you've never thought of your ability as a mutation, it was more of a spiritual skill to you, maybe even a blessing.

"Dreamwalking" is it what you called it. The ability to visit someone's dream, appear in their unconscious mind, manipulate it, or your favourite activity – fuck with them. Since dreaming is such a mystery to the world, you can easily go unnoticed when entering someone's dream and creating loops, for example. One time, you trapped a person in a recurring loop, where they experienced the same scenario over and over again, believing they've woken up only to find themselves still in the dream. Of course you have never done this with cruel intentions, it was purely for your personal entertainment.

It was almost like a routine for you, that's what you had always done. Until the night you stumbled into Charles Xavier's dream by accident.

You weren’t looking for anyone in particular – just wandering through the usual sea of minds as you often did, seeking out a little mischief to keep yourself entertained. But then, out of nowhere, you found yourself in a dream unlike any you’d ever encountered. You were expecting to find the usual chaos of unconscious thoughts and memories. But what you encountered was something entirely different. A fortress of mental defenses, meticulously constructed, each layer more intricate than the last. It was structured, orderly, almost as if someone had consciously crafted it. Curiosity got the better of you, and you pushed further, expecting to uncover the secrets of some overly disciplined mind. Instead, you walked right into the mental landscape of Charles Xavier. The moment you realized whose dream you were in, a chill ran down your spine.

The infamous Professor X was no stranger to you. A man who could read minds and bend the will of others with a mere thought. You had encountered him a few times before in a bar that you regularly visited, spoke a few times with him, but nothing ever really happened between the two of you. Even if there was no doubt of attraction from both sides. The Professor had a certain charm to him, that was definitely no secret, you've watched him flirt many times.

You figured that toying with his mind would be your greatest challenge yet, the ultimate test of your abilities.

But it almost seemed as if Charles had been expecting you, waiting for you to make your move. You had no idea how you’d ended up there, but one thing was clear – this was no ordinary dream, and you were no longer the one in control.

His mind didn’t seem very unconscious; it was as if he were awake, fully aware of your presence. That shouldn't have been possible – you weren’t supposed to be able to enter the mind of someone who was awake. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of his dreamscape, feeling an eerie sensation creeping through your body. The dream was too lucid, too controlled, as if he were orchestrating every detail with precision. The air felt thick with anticipation, and the familiar sense of power you usually had in others’ dreams was absent, replaced by a gnawing unease.

You were the intruder, but it felt like he was the one who had allowed you in, as if he had opened the door to his mind on purpose. That realization made you shiver, because if he was aware of you, it meant he could see you, could sense you. And if he could sense you, he could stop you. For the first time, you wondered if maybe you’d wandered too far, if perhaps you’d finally met someone who could turn your favorite game against you.

As the unsettling realization dawned on you, the dreamscape around you shifted subtly, the edges sharpening as if the world itself was honing in on your presence. Then, out of the silence, a calm yet commanding voice resonated through the space, wrapping around you like a vise.

"I’ve been expecting you."

The voice was unmistakable – Charles Xavier’s, clear and deliberate, with a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His words weren’t a question but a statement, as though he had known you would find your way into his mind eventually.

"You’re talented, I’ll give you that," he continued, his tone measured and controlled, "but did you really think you could wander through my thoughts unnoticed? This isn’t a playground, and you’ve ventured into dangerous territory."

The dreamscape solidified further, and you felt the weight of his gaze even before you saw him. When he finally appeared before you, his expression was serene, but his eyes held a depth of understanding that made it clear – you have lost every last ounce of control you might still have had left in that moment.

As Charles appeared before you, his presence dominating the dreamscape, the environment around you began to shift, reacting to his will rather than yours. The walls of the dream narrowed, the colors dimming until everything seemed to fade into a muted gray. The ground beneath you felt unstable, like it could collapse at any moment, but Charles remained steady, his gaze unwavering.

"You're not here by accident," he said, stepping closer, his voice resonating with a calm authority. "Something drew you to me, whether you intended it or not."

You tried to push back, to exert some control over the dream, but it was like pressing against a brick wall. Your powers, usually so reliable, felt sluggish, ineffective under the weight of his mind. For the first time, you felt truly vulnerable, as if you were the one being manipulated.

Charles tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next words carefully. "You have potential, but your actions show a lack of direction, a misunderstanding of the responsibility that comes with your power."

Before you could respond, the dreamscape shifted again, this time to a familiar place—a room from your past, one you hadn’t thought of in years. The memories attached to it were private, intimate, yet here they were, laid bare before him.

Charles's gaze lingered on you as the dreamscape transformed into that intimate room from your past. The walls seemed to pulse with the echoes of your old memories, shadows flickering like half-remembered dreams. He stepped closer, the air charged with a tension that seemed to crackle with each movement.

"You're not just a curiosity to me," he said, his voice now soft, almost seductive. "There's something intriguing about you. Something that's far more than just your powers."

You felt a mix of frustration and an unexpected flutter of excitement.

This wasn't how you'd expected the encounter to go. The dream, once a playground for your mischief, now felt like a stage set for something far more intense. Charles's eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in this charged space.

"Do you really think you can understand me, just by manipulating me?" you challenged, your voice carrying a note of defiance. But even as you spoke, you could feel the heat between you growing, his presence so overwhelming it was almost tangible.

Charles's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to understand what drives you. And I think," he said, his tone dropping to a whisper, "that you might be more complicated than you let on."

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against your arm. The touch was electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

The warmth of his skin against yours was almost too real, and you could feel the pull of attraction despite the situation's inherent strangeness.

"Maybe we should explore this connection further," he suggested, his voice low and enticing. "There's a lot more to discover about your power."

Before you could respond, Charles closed the distance between you. His lips found yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was unexpected. The kiss was both a challenge and an invitation, a way to bridge the gap between the fierce intellect and raw attraction that had been building between you.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. But then, giving in to the magnetic pull between you, you deepened the kiss, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. The dreamscape around you seemed to blur as the kiss consumed you both, transforming the scene into a private cocoon of desire and exploration.

Charles's hands roamed over your back, drawing you into his embrace, the kiss growing more fervent, more urgent.

You responded in kind, matching his passion with your own, every touch and caress revealing a layer of the complex emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

"Tell me," Charles said softly, his voice almost gentle now, "what is it you truly seek? Power? Control? Or is there something else you’re running from?"

"I'm not running", you said confidently as you leaned back a little to look at him properly. His fingers were still dancing over your back and your body responded with goosebumps.

"Are you not?", he asked, his accent almost thicker as it usually was, "why are you doing this then? Manipulating so many dreams?"

You weren't sure what the answer to his question was. Why did you do it? Maybe you did seek a little power from time to time...

You shrugged your shoulders, tired of talking about your powers when there was a handsome man right in front of you to kiss. Your fingers toyed with the hair in his neck as he mustered you intensely. Then he kissed you again, this time, more forcefully. He grabbed your hips pulling you forward to meet his own hips. A moan escaped your mouth and Charles grunted. If it hadn't already been a dream, you would have thought it was one.

In this shared dream, the boundaries between control and surrender, power and vulnerability dissolved into a shared, heated connection. What began as a struggle for dominance had become a dance of passion and desire, where every touch, every whisper, spoke of a deeper, unspoken bond between you

[blackenedsnow]

art the clown x a super suicidal reader?

riddles in red

WARNING: Graphic descriptions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, depictions of violence, gore, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, toxic affection.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Suicidal! Reader

NOTE: Thanks for the request! I’m absolutely loving the creative freedom with this on! Stay safe, and remember this is purely fiction; if you're struggling, reach out for help. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're trapped in an endless cycle of self-harm and suicidal ideation, you find yourself inexplicably entangled with Art the Clown, whose existence brings a strange sense of comfort.

Your body is a canvas of fading bruises, healing wounds, and fresh cuts. Scars etched in your skin, carved by your own hands, tell the stories you can't say aloud. The pain brings clarity, a moment of reprieve from the chaos inside your mind – a moment where the world silences itself, and the only thing you hear is the rush of blood in your ears, the only thing you feel is the sting beneath the blade.

But lately, there's been another presence. Not the darkness in your head, but something – someone – that terrifies you more than your own destructive thoughts.

Art.

You don’t know when you first saw him. It was somewhere between one breakdown and another, between one failed attempt at escape from this world and the cruel joke that is still being here. He appeared, looming like a nightmarish figure from the deepest recesses of your subconscious. But he didn’t kill you. That was the weird part.

No, he just... watched. Smiled that grotesque, too-wide smile that stretches across his painted face, tilting his head in a way that says everything his silence doesn't. The first time you expected him to pull out one of his twisted tricks – a honk of a horn before plunging something sharp into your chest, ripping you apart for his own sadistic pleasure. But instead, he reached out with a gloved hand, fingers brushing against the bloodied cuts on your wrists, and you froze.

Art’s fascination wasn’t with violence in this moment. It was with you.

His cold, dark eyes, pits of inky nothingness, tracked every motion of the blade. You don’t know what disturbed you more: the fact that you let him stay or the fact that you weren’t scared of him. Not in the same way you should be. There was no fear of death, not anymore. There was only this strange, eerie comfort in his presence – in knowing that someone, even someone like him, saw you.

You once asked yourself: What’s worse than dying?

Now you know.

It’s living when you don’t want to. It’s dragging your feet through each day, heavy with the weight of a mind that’s been your worst enemy for as long as you can remember. It’s the numbness, the cold spreading through your bones like frost creeping across glass. And it's having someone – no, something – that embodies the very concept of death standing beside you, silent as a shadow, watching as you destroy yourself piece by piece.

But Art... God, he’s a riddle. A silent enigma wrapped in his black-and-white attire, his clownish garb juxtaposed against the violence he's capable of. You don’t know why he hasn’t killed you yet. He’s killed so many others, but not you.

Maybe it’s because he sees in you the kind of death that can’t be brought about by knives or guns or chainsaws. Maybe he sees someone already broken, already decaying from the inside out. Or maybe it’s because in some twisted, sick way, he loves you.

Love. What a joke. It’s never been something you understood. But when Art looks at you with those dead, hollow eyes, there’s something there. Not love in the way a human would feel it. No. This is something darker, more grotesque. It’s obsession, possession, fixation – a need to keep you close, to watch as you unravel further.

Art’s affection comes in small gestures. He’ll tilt his head as you press the blade against your skin, and he’s smiling behind that thick layer of face paint. Once, he handed you a knife, a gift of sorts, as if to say, “Here. This one’s sharper.”

You took it.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His movements, his actions, speak volumes. The way his eyes linger on the red ribbons of blood trailing down your arm, the way he crouches beside you, close enough that you can feel the cold radiating off him, but he never touches. Not unless you let him. Not unless you want him to.

And you do. Sometimes, you let his gloved hands trace over the scars you’ve made, let his fingers curl around your wrist, a gentle but firm hold that tells you he’s in control – that he could break you if he wanted to.

But he never does.

He watches, a patient, twisted guardian of your own destruction. Sometimes, you imagine what it would feel like if he did decide to end it – to snap your neck with those disturbingly strong hands, to cut you open, spilling your insides onto the floor in a horrific display of artistry. But he never does.

Instead, he’s there, in the background of your life, a constant, silent presence. Watching. Always watching. And you don’t know why, but that’s enough. It’s enough that someone, even someone as monstrous as Art, cares enough to stay.

You don’t feel like a person anymore. You’re more a collection of bad habits, of scars and open wounds, of thoughts too heavy for any one person to carry. You don’t have friends. You don’t have family. You have Art. And maybe that’s enough.

The night he showed you his love was the night you came closest to dying. You were shaking, the blade poised above your wrist, fresh blood already pooling beneath you. Art was there, sitting on the floor beside you, mimicking your posture in that eerie, almost playful way of his.

You could feel his eyes on you, feel his anticipation. This was it. You were finally going to do it. You were finally going to end it.

But then, in a flash of movement faster than you could comprehend, he was on you. His hands wrapped around yours, taking the blade from your fingers with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of. His eyes bore into yours, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kill you himself.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours, a strange, tender gesture. You could feel his cold breath against your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone.

Art the Clown, this inhuman, grotesque creature, had stopped you from killing yourself.

You don’t know why. You don’t know if you’ll ever know. But in that moment, you realized something.

You’re his.

He’s not keeping you alive because he wants to kill you himself. No. He’s keeping you alive because, in some twisted way, he needs you. Maybe he sees you as a project, something to mold and shape into his own image. Or maybe, just maybe, he cares.

It’s sick. It’s twisted. But in this cold, cruel world, You’ll take what you can get.

[strwbwrrybunny]

rain,rain,go away. ft. my daddies, sukuna, toji, tengen , and choso!

cw 𐙚 nsfw link, oral from the back, ass eating, dirty talk!

You sit by the window, watching as the sky darkens and the first drops of rain begin to fall. The familiar knot of anxiety tightens in your chest, and you feel your breath quicken. Thunderstorms have always been your greatest fear, a relentless reminder of how small and powerless you feel. You try to focus on something else, but the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like a relentless drumbeat, each drop amplifying your unease.

You tell yourself it's just a storm, just water falling from the sky, but the logic doesn't help. The thunder rumbles in the distance, and you flinch, your heart racing. You can't help but think about all the times you've felt this way before, trapped and overwhelmed. The storm outside mirrors the turmoil inside you, and you feel as though you're drowning in your own fear.

You hate how the rain makes everything feel heavy and oppressive, how it seems to seep into your very bones. The flashes of lightning cast eerie shadows on the walls, making you feel even more on edge. You wish you could escape, but there's nowhere to go. The storm is everywhere, and it feels like it's never going to end. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the anxiety is relentless

You hear the door creak open, and you know it's him. He steps into the room quietly, his presence a stark contrast to the chaos outside. He doesn't say anything at first, just walks over to you and wraps his arms around you from behind. His touch is warm, grounding, and you can feel some of the tension start to melt away.

He whispers softly in your ear, "It's just a storm. I'm here with you." His voice is soothing, a gentle reminder that you're not alone. He knows how much you hate thunderstorms, how they bring back memories you'd rather forget. But he also knows how to help you through them.

He leads you to the couch and sits down with you, pulling you close. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, a stark contrast to the erratic pounding of the rain against the windows. He strokes your hair gently, and you focus on the sensation, letting it pull you away from the storm outside.

“Let me ease your mind baby,”

“I love this shit,” he huffs,hands gripping your thighs holding your squirming body in place.You love when he eats your pussy from the back.His tongue dances wildly over your clit, your back arching at the sensation.His curved fingers are pressing against your cervix, a shlick shlick shlick sound filling the room as he pushes into your wet pussy.

He smirks, loving the way you writhe above him from pleasure.He knows your clit is extremely sensitive, yet he can’t stop moving his pink lips across the bud.You taste so damn good, your saltiness making his jaw clench.”S-so mm g-good d-daddy,” you whine breathlessly, acrylic nails digging into the couch.

He finds your moans pretty, they’re breathy and whiny.He loves the way you press your ass against his face desperately,and it’s hard to ignore the way his dick is throbbing against his sweatpants,”can’t wait to stretch this pretty pussy out.” he grunts.A mewl fumbles from your lips as his tongue finds your asshole,tears spilling from your cheeks.You legs quiver as pleasure rocks your mind, you’re way too drunk with the way he’s eating you to even care about the storm.

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 1

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

IB: people who used to make this wattpad stories, i used to ate those upppp🫣 & i love the tom hughes, tom riddle smmm

The air was thick; it smelled like blood and burning wood everywhere. The echoes of the battle were ringing faintly in the distance. Hidden away from the chaos, Severus Snape lay crumpled on the cold floor, his body slick with blood, life slipping away from him with each passing second.

Voldemort had left him to die, discarded like a broken tool. Nagini’s venom coursed through his veins, its poison cruelly efficient, and yet Snape’s eyes remained sharp. His gaze was fixated on Harry, standing just a few steps away, his face pale with shock and confusion. Snape’s focus wavered as he turned his eyes weakly, finding you—your form trembling as you knelt beside him, your heart shattering at the sight.

You might not have the best bond with a teacher like Snape, but never would you wish death upon someone.

“Take it… you both…” Snape rasped, his voice a whisper and urgent. Deep within his cloak, he pulled out one small vial and one small potion-like bottle. His hands shook as he reached for his own tear-streaked face. Slowly he collected the silvery drops that clung there, memories shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Harry knelt down beside you now, watching in silence, his confusion giving way to a deeper understanding. Snape’s dark eyes locked into yours as he extended the vial towards you.

“You need to.. know the truth.”

Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you took the vial from his trembling hand. “You… were meant to change it all,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You can save him… save everyone. But only if you understand what must be done, the sacrifices you’ll have to make.”

The weight of the vial suddenly felt heavier than before, as you sat beside Snape’s lifeless body, his final words echoing in your mind.

Harry’s face was pale and grief-stricken. His eyes met yours and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“We have to go,” Harry said, his voice hoarse, snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at the vial of silvery liquid in your hand. “The Pensieve. We need to see what he left for us.”

“Yeah,” was the only thing you could mutter out, your throat tight with a mixture of fear and urgency. Without another word, both of you scrambled to your feet.

Fires flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows across the grounds and hallways as the final battle raged on.

Harry led the way, his steps quick, with you right behind him, clutching the vial so tightly in your hand that you thought it might shatter at any given moment.

“We have to hurry,” he urged over his shoulder. “Whatever’s in these memories, it’s important. Snape wouldn’t have—” his voice caught in his throat.

You only nodded, your mind spinning with Snape's last words. “You can save him… but only if you know what must be done.”

Save who? Harry? Voldemort? Was there a part of Tom Riddle still left inside the monster he had become? And how were you connected to him? Why you in the first place?

You reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry barely paused to spit out the password.

“Sherbet lemon!”

The gargoyle sprang to life, and the two of you rushed up the spiral staircase, out of breath.

Dumbledore's office had a heavy scent of old parchment and burning candle wax filling the air. You and Harry stood side by side, breathing heavily from the sprint through the castle. The weight of the vial, now emptied, felt almost meaningless in your hands. Your heart pounded in your chest.

Harry held your gaze briefly, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. “Let's do this,” he said, his voice straining slightly. You nodded in return, your throat too tight to speak. Together, you leaned over the Pensieve, letting yourselves be pulled into the swirling memories.

The world around you started shifting, and suddenly, you were in the same office, just a few things placed differently.

Before you could take in your surroundings further, you noticed him—Severus Snape, somewhat younger, his dark hair still hanging around his face. You and Harry exchanged a look. Snape stood rigid before Dumbledore's desk, his expression (as always) unreadable.

“This is madness, Albus,” Snape spat, his voice low and venomous. “You're going to send her back in time, knowing she will not be able to return? She will be trapped there—forever. A time-turner cannot help her.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a quill in his hand as he gazed at Snape with a somber, almost mournful expression. “I understand your anger, Severus, but there is no other way.”

You took note of how Snape looked younger but not that much younger. You saw the gash in his leg and guessed this would've taken place during first year.

“She doesn't know, does she?” Snape's voice cut off your train of thought. “No, she does not,” Albus replied softly. “And it is better that way, for now.”

'She'—that was you. This memory was about you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You're asking her to do the impossible—to change him. Tom Riddle cannot be saved. He was already lost when you met him in the orphanage.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replied. “But she must try. If there is even the smallest chance to alter the course of his soul, it is through her.”

Snape gave a slight scoff. “If she is to succeed, she must know everything!” You never realized how much he cared for you and your friends.

“But you told her nothing of this?”

Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the parchment in front of him. “When the time is right, she shall know what to do.” Dumbledore sighed, rising from his chair. “And do not worry, she will know, Severus, but not before the right time.”

Snape's face twisted in frustration. “And if she fails? What then?”

“Her connection to Tom Riddle is delicate, and should she go back into the past with full knowledge, it could endanger everything. The balance between them is fragile,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry's hand clenched beside you, his breath quickening. “Go back in time?” he whispered, echoing the questions that were swirling in your own mind. Snape turned sharply, “You're asking too much of her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sending her back in time, to Tom Riddle's fifth year... If she doesn't succeed in making him—”

“—experience love,” Dumbledore finished. “Love is the key, Severus.” You felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath you. Tom Riddle—love? That would be impossible. Is this what Dumbledore had planned for you all along? To go back into the past, to love a young Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort?

“How... how could anyone make Riddle love someone?” you whispered to Harry.

“You are condemning her to live out her days in a time that's not her own! She won't even be able to return! You've bound her to the past,” Snape stressed.

The headmaster's gaze grew sharper, though there was still that calm weight behind it. “She is connected to Tom Riddle in ways we cannot fully understand. If there is hope for him, it lies in her hands—her influence. But no, Severus, she cannot come back. The magic involved in sending her back is... irreversible.”

“You will send her to a monster! To a boy who will grow to become the Dark Lord,” Snape sneered. "What happens if she doesn't succeed in her task?”

Dumbledore's eyes closed for a moment. “If she cannot reach him... if his heart remains as closed as it is now, then yes, Voldemort will rise like he did. And our fate is sealed.”

Snape looked up at him. “You truly believe she can save him?”

Dumbledore's eyes glinted, the faintest trace of hope dancing behind them. “I believe she is the only one who can.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “She will remain in that time. She will live there, bound to the past...”

After the sensation finally stopped, you and Harry found yourselves back in the present. The glow of the Pensieve slowly faded, leaving only the silence of the room.

You stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what you had just witnessed — the conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The weight of it hung heavy in the air, pressing down on you both.

“If you go, you can't come back,” Harry whispered, almost to himself, as though saying it out loud would make it reality. His face was pale. “Once you go back into Riddle's time... you're stuck there. Forever.”

“And if I fail...” your voice shook as the truth finally settled in. “If I can't change him, you'll have to battle him. Harry, you'll die.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, he seemed as lost as you were. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of Dumbledore's desk. “I don't understand, Dumbledore... Snape... they planned all of this—” he stopped, turning to face you. “How are you supposed to change Tom Riddle?”

You shook your head. “I don't know, Harry. I don't know how I'm supposed to make him love or... stop him from becoming Voldemort. What if I can't even do it?”

Harry stepped toward you, his expression softening, though his own fear was palpable. “You've faced worse, right? You've fought Death Eaters. You survived this war with us. If anyone can do it, it's you,” Harry finished saying. “But I hate that it has to be you.”

The weight of his words hung between the two of you.

“I don't—Dumbledore said we were connected somehow, that we're soul-bound, basically... but what if that's not enough?”

Harry's jaw tightened, frustration breaking through his calm. “It's unfair! It's always unfair with him!” Harry raised his arms. “He expects too much. First me, now you! He's always asking us to make these impossible choices.”

You nodded, and your heart ached at Harry's raw emotion. “I can't let you die, Harry,” you stated softly. “I can't stand by and watch that happen.”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer so his hands gripped your shoulders. “And I can't let you go back in time, knowing you'll never come home.”

For a moment, the two of you stood like that, caught between the devastating choice laid before you. You could feel the pull of what needed to be done.

“If this is the only way, then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll figure out how to change him, how to make him love. We'll do it together,” Harry nodded, sure of his plan.

You smiled through tears. “Harry, once I go, I'll be alone.”

His grip tightened on your shoulders. “You won't be alone. You've never been alone in this. You'll have everything we've ever fought for — the memories. And more than that... you'll have hope.”

Tears were threatening to leave your eyes, but you swallowed them back. You nodded at Harry.

Harry took the small potion out of his jacket pocket. The liquid inside was an ethereal, shimmering gold, glowing faintly in the dim of the room. The potion, the one that would send you back in time — and trap you there.

Your hands shook as you took the potion from Harry. The glass felt cold in your palm. The moment had come, and it was terrifying. Once you drank it, you knew there would be no turning back, no returning to the world and people you once knew. No more friends, no more future. Only the past, which would become your future.

Harry shifted beside you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. There was a plea in his words, though he wasn't trying to stop you. He couldn’t. He knew as well as you did that this was the only way.

“I don't have a choice,” you whispered back, your voice shaking. You gave him a small nod, though your heart still pounded in your chest. You uncorked the bottle. The faint scent of something sweet filled the air. The liquid seemed almost alive, swirling around.

You took one last look at Harry, locking in the image of his face — strong, determined, your best friend. This might be the last time you'd ever see him.

“I'll miss you,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. Harry's eyes glistened, but he gave a small, resolute nod. “I'll miss you too.”

With a final breath, you raised the vial to your lips. The liquid was warm, surprisingly smooth as it slid down your throat. At first, it didn't feel like anything was happening, but then the warmth began to spread, starting in your chest and slowly moving through your body.

The world around you started to blur, and a dizzying sensation took over. Harry's voice was distant now, “It's happening.”

Your vision blurred, and you could feel time itself shifting, bending, pulling you away from the present and hurling you backward into the past.

It was overwhelming, as though your existence was being unraveled and re-made on a different planet. You feared you might lose yourself entirely.

And then, everything came to a hurtling stop. The warm feeling of the potion faded, replaced by a cool, crisp breeze against your skin. You opened your eyes, heart still pounding, and took in your surroundings.

It felt so familiar, yet completely different. Hogwarts stood tall, the grounds more pristine, untouched by the war, by the battles you had grown so accustomed to. The castle's windows shimmered, and the air smelled fresh.

At last, you found yourself in the past.

[kira-dofc]

Mafia boss! Sukuna x Male reader

Notes- This was supposed to be a Gojo fic but Sukuna fitted this shit better its too dark for Gojo :(

Wc- 3055

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW, unprotected sex, dub-con, breeding, omegaverse, top/bottom, sub/dom, bottom male reader, overstimulation

Flashes of orange and yellow flames streaked past you, casting a fierce glow that punctuated the night with a hellish light. The deafening crack of gunshots shattered the eerie silence, bullets whizzing through the air like deadly fireflies. It was 10:00 p.m., and the city that never slept was now cloaked in an ominous stillness, save for the chaos erupting around you. Frantically, you ran, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, fleeing from the world's most notorious mafia. For years, they had hunted down omegas with unrelenting ferocity, and tonight, you had become their latest target. As the last of your kind, you had been hiding from them for a long time. Unluckily, tonight marked the end of your concealment. You were unique, hailing from a wealthy lineage.

Your family had perished before your eyes, leaving you to carry on the bloodline. It was them. It had always been them. They murdered your family, your only family. And you had been too naive to do anything but hide, bearing all the responsibilities alone. But that was six years ago. Now, you needed to devise a way to throw them off your trail.

Bloodstains smeared almost your entire body. Your legs were limp, and one of your bones was broken. You fled toward the heart of the city, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sprinted away from the terrifying sounds of pursuit. The once-bustling metropolis had turned into a ghost town, its inhabitants cowering indoors, unwilling to risk becoming the mafia's next victim. The streets were deserted, the silence broken only by your ragged breathing and the distant echoes of violence.

Each step felt like an eternity as adrenaline surged through your veins. You could almost sense their presence behind you, a shadow of death closing in. It seemed they were tracking you by your scent. The sweet, floral fragrance that emanated from your body had made this escape even more challenging. Your sweet blood flowed through your veins, each drop hitting the ground and leaving a trail. You pressed your hands against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding and prevent them from following your scent. Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this desperate escape. It had begun with whispers, rumors of the mafia targeting omegas, and then the brutal reality struck as friends and acquaintances began to disappear, leaving only bloodstains and unanswered questions. Their actions were inexplicable: Why would they target people like you? You had witnessed countless deaths at their hands, many shot, others thrown into pits of fire. They burned all the bodies of their victims.

The neon lights of the city, once symbols of vibrancy and life, now cast eerie, elongated shadows that seemed to grasp at you. You rounded a corner, your feet slipping on the rain-slicked pavement. The distant wail of sirens was a cruel reminder that help would not come in time. You had to rely on your instincts and sheer will to survive.

Suddenly, a narrow alleyway caught your eye. Without thinking, you darted into it, hoping to lose your pursuers in the labyrinth of backstreets. But as you ran deeper, the walls seemed to close in, and the alley twisted into a nightmarish maze. The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the brick walls, a relentless reminder that they were drawing closer.

Your frantic flight led you to a dead end, a towering brick wall blocking your path. Panic surged through you as you desperately tried to find a way over it, your fingers scrabbling at the rough surface. The wall loomed high above you, an insurmountable barrier that seemed to mock your desperation. You could hear their voices now, low and menacing, carried on the wind.

You turned to face them, your breath coming in short, terrified gasps. Shadows danced at the entrance of the alley, and then they emerged, dark silhouettes against the dim light. There was no escape. Your eyes darted around, seeking any possible way out, but there was none. The realization hit you like a tidal wave – you were trapped.

One of the men stepped forward, his face obscured by shadows, but the cold glint in his eyes was unmistakable. He raised his weapon, and in that split second, time seemed to slow. You braced yourself for the impact, expecting the searing pain of a bullet. Instead, there was a sharp sting, more like a needle prick than a gunshot.

Confusion mingled with the adrenaline, and a wave of dizziness washed over you. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You staggered, trying to stay upright, but your strength was failing. The world around you began to spin, the alleyway becoming a distorted swirl of colors and shadows.

With a final, desperate effort, you reached out to the wall, hoping to steady yourself, but it was too late. Your fingers brushed against the cold bricks before your legs gave way completely. You collapsed to the ground, the impact jarring but distant, as if it were happening to someone else. The cold, unforgiving pavement pressed against your cheek, and darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was the triumphant, merciless faces of your captors as they closed in around you. Their voices were muffled, distorted by the haze of unconsciousness, but the satisfaction in their tones was unmistakable. As the world faded away, one thought lingered in your mind – this was only the beginning of a nightmare that had no end in sight.

As the cold seeped into your bones, memories of happier times flickered in your mind like a fading film reel. You remembered your family's laughter, the warmth of your mother's embrace, and the security you felt in your father's presence. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago, swallowed by the darkness of the present. The mafia had taken everything from you, and now they were about to take your freedom, perhaps even your life.

The darkness enveloped you completely, a void that swallowed all light and sound. Time lost its meaning as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a whirlpool of fear and despair. When you finally awoke, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of damp and decay. Your hands were bound, the rough ropes cutting into your wrists, and your body ached from the rough handling and the injuries sustained during your escape.

-

A single, flickering light bulb cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the background. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic—probably blood. You struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain that shot through your limbs with every small movement. Your captors had taken no chances, securing you tightly to a chair with heavy, rusted chains. The room was bare, save for a small table covered in ominous stains and a single door, which you guessed led to more horrors beyond.

The door creaked open, its sound amplified in the silence, and a figure stepped inside. It was the man who had shot you, his cold eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He approached slowly, savoring your fear, and knelt down to meet your gaze. His smile was a twisted parody of kindness, and his voice was soft, almost gentle, as he spoke.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, his tone mocking. "You gave us quite the chase, but it seems the game is over now."

You glared at him, refusing to let him see the terror that gripped your heart. "What do you want from me?" you demanded, your voice hoarse from disuse and dry from lack of water.

The man chuckled, a low, chilling sound that echoed in the small room. "Oh, it's not me who wants something from you," he replied. He turned his head slightly towards the door, and with a simple, "Boss," he summoned another figure into the room.

A tall, hooded figure stepped in front of you. His eyes were as red as fire, and his hair was a lush cascade of pink, shimmering even in the dim light. His eyes furrowed as he looked down upon you, scrutinizing your scarred figure. His face etched into a grin that sent shivers down your spine. This was Sukuna, the infamous leader of the most feared mafia syndicate in the world.

Sukuna bowed down to your height, his intense gaze never leaving yours. He tilted his head slightly, scanning you as if you were a specimen in a lab. "Let me clear things up for you," he chuckled as he stood back up. "It's not about what we want. It's about what we need. You see, you are the last of your kind, and that makes you very valuable to us. And very valuable to me. Your blood, your lineage, your body."

You squinted your eyes, trying to understand what he was saying. It was hard to focus through the haze of pain and fear, but his words were starting to piece together a horrifying picture. They didn't just want to torture you; they wanted to exploit you, to use you for some nefarious purpose. The thought filled you with a renewed sense of defiance, and you vowed to fight them with every ounce of strength you had left.

Sukuna's voice dropped to a soft, almost affectionate tone. "I want you to be my mate," he said, his words causing a cold shiver to run down your spine. "Consider it a sacrifice; you'll be saving your race, your population. You can save them."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You struggled against your restraints, your mind racing. "Then why did you kill all of them?" you spat out, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow. "Why? Why do it if you just wanted someone? You could have just taken one and left the rest of us be."

Sukuna's grin widened, and there was a maddening glint in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice breaking.

He leaned in close, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. "Oh, I only did this so I could finally get you," he said with a chilling calmness. "I wanted you, and you only. You managed to get away when we slaughtered your whole family. I only did this so I could be with you, my prince."

His words were a twisted declaration, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. He chuckled as he whispered those words close to your ears, his breath hot and foul. He grazed his hand along your chin, lifting it to force you to look into his eyes.

"Clean him up, then bring him to my room," he ordered the man who had shot you. "I want him clean when I see him again." With a final smirk, Sukuna turned away from you and walked out of the room, leaving you with the chilling promise of what was to come.

The man who had shot you moved to obey Sukuna's orders. He released the chains that held you to the chair, though he left your hands bound behind your back. You were too weak to resist, too weak to do anything but stumble as he dragged you out of the room and down a long, dimly lit corridor.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, each step echoing off the cold, stone walls. The faint sound of dripping water followed you, a constant reminder of the dank, underground prison you found yourself in. You were led into another room, this one slightly less decrepit than the last. It had a small basin of water, a towel, and a change of clothes laid out on a table.

The man pushed you towards the basin. "Clean yourself up," he said gruffly. You stared at the water, the reflection of your battered face staring back at you. Every movement was painful, but you forced yourself to comply, knowing that any defiance now would only result in more pain.

You washed as best as you could with your hands still bound, the cold water stinging your wounds. When you were done, the man handed you the change of clothes—a simple, clean shirt and pants. He watched you closely as you struggled to dress yourself, his eyes never leaving you.

Once you were dressed, he grabbed your arm and led you out of the room again. You were taken to yet another corridor, this one even darker and more foreboding than the last. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional distant echo of voices.

Finally, you were brought to a large, imposing door. The man knocked once, then pushed it open, revealing a lavishly decorated room. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and expensive-looking furniture filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the compound.

Sukuna was waiting for you inside, seated in an ornate chair. He looked up as you entered, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice dripping with mock warmth. "You look much better now."

You stood there, your body tense and your mind racing. What was he planning? What did he want from you? The uncertainty was almost worse than the pain. Sukuna rose from his chair and approached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Come, sit with me," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite his. "We have much to discuss."

You hesitated, but the man behind you gave you a sharp shove, forcing you to comply. You sat down, your hands still bound, and glared at Sukuna. "What do you want from me?" you repeated, your voice filled with defiance.

Sukuna's smile widened. "I told you, didn't I? I want you to be my mate. Together, we can rebuild your race, your people. You are the key to everything."

His words were like a knife to your heart. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Why would I ever agree to that?" you demanded.

"Because you have no choice," Sukuna said simply. "Either you cooperate, or you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear. The choice is yours."

His words hung in the air, a chilling ultimatum that left you feeling more trapped than ever. You knew you had to find a way out, to escape this nightmare. But for now, all you could do was sit and listen, and wait for the right moment to strike.

-

"Leave," He ordered, "I want some privacy." The men in front of the door nodded and leaved in order. 

Sukuna walked around the table, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "I can see the defiance in your eyes," he murmured. "It's...exciting."

You turned your head away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But Sukuna grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His grip was strong, almost painfully so. "Don't look away from me," he said softly. 

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss rough and demanding. You tried to pull away, but his hand on your chin held you in place. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt—he was in control.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling inside you. Sukuna's eyes glittered with satisfaction. "See? That wasn't so hard," he said, his voice mocking.

He reached down and began to unbutton your shirt, his fingers moving with a practiced ease. You tensed, every muscle in your body screaming at you to fight, to resist. But the man behind you had a firm grip on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Sukuna's hands roamed over your chest, his touch both gentle and possessive. "You're beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "So perfect."

You shuddered, a mixture of fear and unwanted arousal coursing through you. Sukuna's hands moved lower, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. He knelt in front of you, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," he said softly, his breath hot against your skin.

A sudden tug was felt on your shirt, Sukuna lifted you up. Everything went by so fast, your were now on his bed. Your shirt and your pants was tossed to the ends of the bed leaving you bare with your underwear wet as your cock begging to spring out. Your face was flushed between your hands as Sukuna chuckled "You're too cute to handle, boy" He soon unbuttoned his polo, leaving his body bare for you to see. 

His body was toned, veins aching from every muscle. His jawline defined, his hands were scarred, veins and bones revealing themselves under the skin of his hands. He moved down to you as he whispered to your ears, "You're mine." 

Sukuna groaned as he held your hips with harsh and fast thrusts. Every thrust he makes make you squeal and let out moans. Your body now aching with love bites and hickeys as you left scratches on Sukuna's back. His fast thrusts soon slowed as he leaned on you, "Take all of my pups for me, yeah?" He groaned as he came, knotting your insides as you came on his stomach. Your moans shifted into breathless sighs.

One round turned into 20. Its been 1 hour and a half before his dick throbbed your insides. His shape now taking form of your hole, "Ugh...! N-no Ah..., more....." You moaned as you whispered in his ears. "You don't get to order me," He groaned as he whispered back to you, "Just one more darling. Raise all my pups inside you..." He leaned closer to your face as he planted a kiss on your forehead as he thrusts in and out of you. You hugged him tightly as you felt your climax. One final thrust, his cock spurted out his pups in you for the twentieth time. 

You breathed heavily, as your rested your head on the mattress. His hands trailed to your neck to your jaw, moving your head to face him. "I'm not done with you," He says as he kissed you on your neck, through your chin and on your lips. He groaned as he laid next to you. Your head facing his chest as his hands covered your waist. 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Sirius's worst nightmare comes true when both you and Remus get your time of the months together.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Wolfstar x Reader

Sirius paced back and forth in the small living room, his fingers raking through his long hair, muttering under his breath. He could hear you and Remus in the bedroom, murmuring, laughing, then suddenly going quiet—an eerie calm before the next storm. He winced, thinking about the past few days of chaos.

You were on your period, and Remus was nearing the full moon. Mood swings? More like a tsunami of emotions, and Sirius was caught right in the middle.

He glanced at the bedroom door, half-expecting one of you to storm out, shouting at him for some unknown reason, or worse—crying uncontrollably over something he didn’t even understand. It had been like this all week.

"Merlin, what am I supposed to do?" Sirius whispered dramatically to the air. He grabbed his phone and dialed James’s number.

“Pads? What’s going on, mate?” James answered, sounding cheery.

“They're driving me mad!” Sirius whispered harshly. “Y/N’s got her period, and Remus is so close to the full moon he’s practically howling, and they’re both—both insane! I swear, James, they’re like… like pregnant women! And I’m in the middle of it all!”

James chuckled, but Sirius wasn’t amused.

“It’s not funny!” Sirius snapped. “I don’t know whether they’re going to shout at me or cry or smother me in affection! Yesterday, Remus hugged me for ten minutes straight, and then Y/N told me I was the worst person in the world because I didn’t put the dishes away properly!”

James was practically wheezing with laughter on the other end. “Mate, you’re gonna have to deal with this yourself. It’s called being in a relationship!”

“Oh, brilliant, thanks for the help. Maybe I’ll just die here in a storm of emotions while you and Lily live happily ever after,” Sirius grumbled.

“Pads, relax,” James said, still laughing. “Just go check on them. See what they need.”

“Oh no. No, I am not going in there. You don’t know what it’s like! One minute they’re calling for me, all sweet, and the next, I’m getting death glares because I forgot to buy extra chocolate! It's a bloody blood bath!”

As if on cue, your voice floated down the hallway. “Sirius, can you come here for a second?”

Sirius froze, eyes wide with panic. “See?! They’re plotting something!”

“Mate, you’re being dramatic. Just go. You’ll be fine,” James said, completely unbothered.

“I won’t survive this,” Sirius muttered darkly, hanging up. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of the door. With a final prayer to Merlin, he walked into the bedroom.

You and Remus were sitting on the bed, both looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Sirius’s heart clenched. Oh no, here we go again.

“Sirius,” Remus began softly, his voice a little shaky, “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded, looking equally regretful. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. We’re just… so emotional right now, and everything’s overwhelming.”

Sirius blinked. “Wait, are you… both apologizing?”

Remus smiled, though his eyes were tired. “We are.”

You reached out for Sirius’s hand, and he stepped closer, letting you pull him down between the two of you on the bed. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus followed suit, resting his head against Sirius’s other shoulder.

Sirius could feel the tension slowly melting away as you both wrapped yourselves around him. He let out a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the two of you. “Well… this isn’t so bad,” he mumbled, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“We love you, you know,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Remus hummed in agreement. “Yeah, you’re the best, Pads. We don’t deserve you.”

Sirius chuckled softly. “Finally, some appreciation.”

But just as he started to relax, you suddenly lifted your head, your brows furrowing. “Wait… did you eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius’s smile froze on his face. “What? No! Why would you—”

Remus sat up too, narrowing his eyes. “Sirius. You know how much we needed that.”

“I didn’t eat it!” Sirius exclaimed, eyes wide. “I swear!”

But you both stared at him suspiciously, and just like that, the storm was back.

“I knew it!” you accused. “You don’t care about us!”

“Oh, Merlin, help me,” Sirius groaned, his head falling back in exasperation. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

You crossed your arms, looking deeply offended, while Remus sighed heavily, clearly upset again.

Sirius pulled out his phone, sending a frantic text to James and Lily.

Sirius: Send help. I’m not making it out of this alive.

“Sirius!” you and Remus shouted at the same time, drawing his attention back to you both.

“Okay, okay!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll go buy more ice cream. Just… please stop looking at me like that. I feel like I’m in the middle of a war.”

Remus and you exchanged glances before looking back at him. “Hurry,” you both said in unison, and then, as if nothing happened, you both wrapped your arms around him again, squeezing him tight.

Sirius sighed dramatically, feeling your heads resting on his shoulders once more. “I’m doomed,” he whispered under his breath.

James's response came through.

James: You’ll be fine, mate. Just wait till they start crying again.

Sirius groaned, muttering to himself. “Why did I ever think dating both of you was a good idea?”

“Because you love us,” you whispered sleepily.

“And we love you,” Remus added with a small smile.

Sirius smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and Remus’s. “Yeah, I do.”

But then, just as the moment turned peaceful, you both tensed up again. Remus sat up abruptly, eyes wide. “Wait. Did you really eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius groaned dramatically, falling back onto the bed. "Merlin’s beard, I'm dead."