#ward is like ''reminds me of good old times'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doumadono · 8 months ago

Note

doumaaaa! luv ur writing! could ya make dabi x nurse reader? basically him 'seducing' her or smth?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, semi-public, rough smut, pussy fingering, nurse!reader, Touya being Touya, creampie, dubcon

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held. I must admit, the difference between this prompt and the second-highest voted one was incredibly small! Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital seemed to flicker in time with the steady beeping of monitors. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee that had become your lifeline through the long shifts.

You were used to the routine, the endless cycle of patients coming and going. But nothing could have prepared you for him.

Dabi. Or rather Todoroki Touya. The infamous villain, arrested after the chaos of the Paranormal Liberation War. His capture had been nothing short of a miracle - or perhaps, a well-calculated move.

The new burns that marred his body, the very marks of his quirk, had left him in dire need of medical attention.

And you, as the head nurse of this ward, had been chosen to treat him.

You approached his room with concern.

The door slid open with a whisper, revealing the man who had caused so much destruction. He lay on the bed, his body a patchwork of scars and fresh bandages. His turquoise eyes, like chips of ice, flicked up to meet yours, assessing and unyielding. Metal restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the bed, a necessary precaution against the notorious villain. “Here to patch me up, nurse?” His voice was rough, a dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

You forced a calm smile. “I’m here to make sure you don’t fall apart any more than you already have.”

He chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “Good luck with that, bitch.”

Setting your tray of supplies on the table beside the bed, you began your work in silence.

The burns on his body were severe, some still fresh from recent battles. You carefully removed the old dressings, your fingers gentle yet efficient. Despite your attempts at professionalism, you couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated from him, a constant reminder of the power he wielded.

As you applied a cooling salve to his burns, you felt his gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “What’s your name, nurse?” he asked suddenly.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, tasting the syllables. “A pretty name for a pretty nurse.”

You ignored the flush that crept up your neck, shaking your head slightly.

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why so cautious, sweetheart?" Dabi's voice broke through the silence, raspy and teasing, as he watched you with an amused smirk. "Afraid I might bite?"

You met his gaze steadily, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small, resigned grimace. "I'm not afraid of you," you replied, adjusting the flow on his IV. "I'm just being professional. And you called me a bitch moments earlier, so don’t expect me to become more friendly towards you."

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Professional, huh? I guess that's a first for me. People usually just want to fix me up quickly and get rid of me."

The casual way he spoke of his own status made you pause. "Everyone deserves proper care," you said, securing the IV line. "No matter who they are."

That seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, he just stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes before he masked it with another smirk. "You’re different, aren’t you? Not scared, not judgmental. Just doing your job."

You shrugged, feeling his intense gaze as you checked his chart. "That's what I'm here for."

He watched your every move, noting the efficiency and confidence with which you worked. It was clear you weren’t easily intimidated - a trait he found both intriguing and useful. “I suppose it’s your job to keep an eye on me too, huh? Make sure I don’t do anything foolish?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, adjusting the monitor beside his bed.

His heart rate was steady, too steady for someone who should be in pain. Suspicion flickered in your mind.

“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? A nurse looking after someone who can burn down entire cities.”

“It is,” you agreed quietly, meeting his eyes. “But pain is pain. Healing is healing. It doesn’t choose sides.”

“Philosophical for a nurse,” he chuckled, shifting slightly. His chains rattled, a jarring sound that matched the slight grimace of pain his movements brought.

“You’d be surprised what you learn in this job,” you responded, checking the restraints to ensure they were secure, a mandatory procedure that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Two nights later, you approached Dabi’s hospital room, a mix of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins.

The night was quiet, almost oppressively so, the sterile hallways of the hospital washed in the dim glow of emergency lighting, casting long shadows that flickered softly.

The two guards who were always stationed at the door to Dabi's room and had become a constant fixture in the hallway - silent, stoic sentinels in the muted chaos of the hospital, were absent. Their absence was as puzzling as it was alarming. No explanation, no trace of their whereabouts, just an empty space where they should have been standing guard.

As you reached his room, the usual sound of the monitoring machines greeting you was conspicuously absent. A cold wave of unease washed over you. Pushing the door open fully, you stepped inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the bed that had become so familiar over the past few days.

It was empty.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind racing to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. The sheets were askew, tossed aside rather than neatly arranged by a nurse. The heart monitor was silent, its screen dark. Most telling of all, the metal chains designed to secure the villain, to prevent exactly this scenario, lay on the floor, melted into twisted, useless strips of metal.

Panic knotted in your stomach as you hurried forward, searching the room for any sign of him. You checked the bathroom, the small closet, even under the bed, though you knew it was futile.

Dabi was gone.

There was no sign of struggle, no alarm raised - it was as if he had simply vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of his presence.

Questions raced through your mind. How had he escaped? Did he plan this all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by some unknown factor?

Suddenly, the light that was pouring into the room was cut off as the door swung shut with a soft, definitive click.

A brief moment of tense silence ensued, broken only by the familiar sound of a tongue clicking. Then, a characteristic, raspy voice followed, tinged with a teasing undertone, "Well, hi there, little nurse."

Fear gripped you, paralyzing every muscle in your body. You knew well that Dabi was right behind you, yet the terror that washed over you made it impossible to turn around. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart pounding furiously against your chest as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity.

Then, a confirmation of his presence came - not through words, but through the rough, unmistakable touch of his hands as they settled on your shoulders.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice a blend of malice and allure. “You know, there’s a lot of things I’ve been thinking about doing to make myself feel better,” he murmured, his tone dripping with a dark, seductive edge. His fingers tightened around your wrists, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his control. “And since you’re the nurse, always so eager to help, you should be willing to assist with my recovery.”

His words were laced with a mocking sneer, yet his touch wandered with a boldness that betrayed his intent. He was provoking you, testing how far he could push before you’d snap or succumb. Dabi’s hand traced a path up your spine, sending shivers through your body despite your resolve. “I can think of a few therapies that might help,” he continued, his voice low and husky, teasingly listing his twisted desires. “Imagine, all the things you could do to ease my pain, to make me feel alive. Wouldn’t that be fulfilling your duty, little nurse?”

Every fiber in your being screamed to pull away, to reclaim your space and autonomy, yet his presence was overwhelming, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“You should thank me,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his lips barely grazing the curve of your ear, sending an involuntary shudder through you. “Most don’t even get the chance to hear my voice. They’re not quick enough. Never as quick as my flames,” he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.

You gasped. His mockery stung, a stark reminder of the dangerous game that played out between you. “How?” you whispered, barely moving your lips.

Dabi's low laugh resonated close to your ear, a sound that mixed amusement with a sinister edge. “Curious, are we?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I just turned up the heat a bit.” His smirk was palpable in his voice as he recounted his escape with a nonchalance that belied the danger of his actions.

Your heart pounded, the implications of his words sinking in. “And the guards?” you managed to ask, your voice a whisper of sound, betraying your fear.

Dabi’s tone took on a sharper edge, his amusement soaring into something darker. “There was some commotion, some urgent cries over their radios, something about a threat to the hospital staff. They ran off to play heroes.” His hand tightened slightly on your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he leaned closer. “Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say? Gave me just the right moment to melt away those pesky chains and walk right out. It was almost too easy.”

Dabi smoothly spun you around to face him, his movements precise and fluid. Catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, he gently tilted your head up to meet his gaze. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual demeanor. "You're quite pretty, you know," Dabi murmured, his eyes scanning your face with an appreciative glint. "Even with those dark circles under your eyes." His thumb brushed lightly under your eye socket, his touch featherlight. "It tells a story, doesn't it? All those long hours spent caring for people like me."

Touya smiled, a wry, knowing smirk that hinted at his awareness of the toll his words took on you. "Working too hard, aren't you?" he mused, his gaze lingering on your face as if committing every detail to memory. "Caring for the broken, the dangerous. It's a heavy burden for such delicate shoulders. But what if I told you I want more than just professional care?"

Gathering every ounce of courage, you met Dabi’s intense gaze. “Please, let me go,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone. I'll keep quiet. You'll have time to get away from here.”

The plea hung in the air between you, underscored by the palpable tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of compliance or compassion, hoping he would see the sincerity in your offer and realize it was his best chance to escape without further complications.

Dabi chuckled.

You felt a cold wave of fear wash over you, but you refused to let it show. "And I'm not here for your entertainment," you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

Dabi's laugh echoed through the room, a dark, menacing sound. "Oh, I know that," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you see, I'm not exactly in a position to ask nicely." His hands moved to your waist, pulling you back against him.

You could feel the heat of his body through your overall, a constant reminder of the power he held. "Let me go," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Dabi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your ear. "But what if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You struggled against his hold, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "Please," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "You don't have to do this."

Dabi's grip loosened, his hands sliding down your arms. "But what if I want to?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You gasped, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head for no. His hands moved to the buttons of your uniform.

You felt the fabric of your overall give way, the cool air of the room brushing against your exposed skin. Dabi's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. His hands were oh so warm...

You gasped.

Dabi's laugh was low and dark. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers continuing their assault on your nipples.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. "Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants before tugging them down. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You hesitated, your mind racing. You knew you should tell him to stop, but your body had other ideas. "Please, don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dabi's laugh was low and triumphant. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands pulling down your pants.

You felt the cool air of the room brush against your exposed skin, your body trembling with anticipation.

Dabi's hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you back against him, making you arch your back slightly.

You could feel his cock, hard and insistent against your ass.

Dabi's hands moved to your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

You felt his fingers brush against your wetness, a low moan escaping your lips.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan.

Dabi's fingers worked fast, pushing the material of your thong aside, and soon they moved inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit.

You moaned even though you hated yourself for this, your body was trembling with pleasure.

He teased you slowly, his fingers moving in and out, drawing out your moans with every thrust. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. He didn’t stop himself from leaving a hickey here and there.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more. "Please," you gasped again, your voice breaking.

“Hush,” he whispered, licking a trail up the column of your neck. He pumped his long fingers in you, faster and faster, enjoying all of the sounds you made, just for him. Finally, his fingers withdrew, and you felt a momentary loss before his hands gripped your hips, turning you to face him. His eyes burned with an intense heat as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You could feel his dick, straining his pants, pressing against your slick, naked pussy, and instinctively, your hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Dabi's left forearm slipped under your ass, easily securing you in place as his other hand joined yours, and together you managed to free him, the hard length of his dick springing free.

With a swift motion, he aligned the tip of his cock with your dripping entrance, and pushed it up so the head went in between your delicious outer labia. Finally, he slowly shoved himself into your dripping vagina.

As soon as he entered you, your eyes and mouth both opened wide. You looked like you were in disbelief that you were actually doing this. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm slow yet deliberate. “Gosh…” Your pussy was stretching painfully to accommodate him. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. You hated yourself for that.

His scarred lips found yours, capturing your moans as his pace quickened, each movement driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck. So fucking tight. I love how wet and tight you are f’me,” he growled, pecking your cheek.

You could feel yourself tightening around his cock, your climax building with every hard thrust he delivered. You gasped against his lips.

Dabi took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, then suck on your bottom lip, all while completely inside you. He began to bounce you on his cock faster, each upward thrust hitting deeper than before, the tip of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you.

The feeling of being suspended and at his mercy driving you wild. You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whined. You were painfully aware you acted like a cheap whore, but you didn’t mind at the time.

The friction between your bodies created a heat that was almost unbearable, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. His warmth of course added to the sensation. And his cock was oh so hot.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "So desperate, so needy. Fucking bitch." He pulled his cock out until only the tip remained between your parted, lower lips, then slammed his hips back against yours, burying himself in your pussy to the hilt of his shaft.

You couldn't respond, your mind lost in the overwhelming sensations. You could only moan, the sound echoing in the room as he continued to bounce you on his cock, the pace quickening. You were trembling in his arms, even though you shouldn’t. Your boobs were swaying forward and backward as he fucked you raw.

“Be fucking quiet, little nurse, or the guards will hear us if they’re back,” he slapped your cheek, and grunted as his balls hit the curve of your ass yet again.

Your bodies made a wet smacking noise each time, and Dabi could see strands of your fluids spider-webbing between your skin each time he pulled away from your heated, dripping core.

Your tits, still in your bra, pressed firmly against his chest as you leaned into him, already breathless. Your head rolled forward, resting against the crook of his neck where his marred skin was exposed. “Mmmm…. Mmmmm…. I’m gonna… I can’t anymore….” Your pussy clenched around his cock in anticipation, and a growl rose in your throat.

Your needy, seductive voice worked its magic on the scarred man.

Dabi's head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as he came, spilling his thick seed deep within you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppier and more frantic. “Fuck, take it, bitch, take it all.”

With Dabi’s cock nestled within your core, you felt every pulse as he reached his climax. Every pulse and eruption of cum filling your tight pussy sent twin waves of pleasure and a wonderful, comforting warmth through your entire being, and three or four pulses in, you found herself cumming as well, pussy spasming and clenching around Touya’s cock, milking it of his wonderful, hot cum.

You felt his cum filling you to the brim and beyond, and spilling out of you, dripping to the floor, even though you two were still connected.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers gentle as he pulled out of you. He gave himself a few more jerks before grabbing your overall and wiping his flaccid cock in it. After that, he tossed your uniform aside, and improved his pants and belt. Dabi's voice was low and dark as he spoke. "You're quite the little slut, aren't you?"

As you hastily tried to dress, your cheeks burning with a mix of emotions, you muttered, "It was a moment of weakness…" Your gaze drifted nervously toward the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment.

Suddenly, Dabi was before you again, his presence imposing. His hand shot out, capturing your cheeks with an intensity that made you wince. He squeezed firmly, his eyes burning into your very soul as he seethed a harsh reminder, "Not a word until five minutes pass. Understand?" The threat in his voice was unmistakable, echoing in the charged air between you.

Releasing your face, he moved swiftly to the window with the fluid grace of a predator. His silhouette framed against the dim light from outside was both menacing and mesmerizing. As he swung one leg over the sill, he paused, turning to fix you with a piercing look. "You'll never be rid of me, not until death takes me." His words hung heavy in the room, a promise or a curse. Then, he jumped out, vanishing into the night like a ghost.

You stood frozen, the imprint of his fingers still tingling on your skin, his final words echoing in your mind. You waited, counting each second of those five minutes he had demanded. You were scared to see him again, yet part of you wondered, perhaps even hoped, for that very possibility.

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stellewriites · 15 days ago

Text

Part 5 - John Price x reader

Masterlist

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife's wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, smut - fingering, oral (f!receiving), riding/frotting, John's genitals are referred to as cock.

You’d been screening John’s calls and leaving his texts unread for the last fortnight, feeling worse and worse for it and not knowing exactly why you were doing it.

Each notification had your heart pumping in excitement for the possibility of him still reaching out despite your silence, and then thumping too hard in immediate anxiety and guilt.

“Stop moping and text him,” Kate said to you finally. She’d been watching you check your phone routinely throughout brunch and had noticed how you were only half focused in their conversations and slow to engage. You’d laugh a second later than the others and had forgotten what you’d ordered when it had arrived at the table.

“I’m not ready for dating.” You shrugged her off, looking back down at your phone.

She huffed and sent you a disbelieving look. Your other two friends currently present, Cass and Paige, paused their conversation to look at you doubtfully too.

“I’ve not seen you as happy as you had been recently when you were hanging out with him,” Kate said and the other two agreed. “I know this isn’t a confidence thing either. He said he liked you, and you clearly liked him.”

“Katie,” you said warningly.

“She’s not wrong,” Paige said and took a sip of her drink.

“I mean, hell, if you’re really set on not dating, then don’t! That’s fine, but text the guy back for god’s sake and hang out again. Or put him out of his misery.” She bit a large chunk out of her avocado toast as you slumped in your chair.

“He’s still trying, right? That’s what you were worried about?” Cass said, hitting the nail on the head.

Guiltily you looked down at the unanswered messages under John’s contact. It stung to realise that maybe John had been genuine that night and you’d turned him down so bluntly.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and typed up your reply, sending it before you could talk yourself out of it.

>> hi john sorry for the distance, i’ve been figuring some stuff out. make it up to you over coffee if you’re free later?

He didn’t leave you waiting anxiously for long, replying immediately with an affirmative.

“What did he say?” Paige asked.

“We’re meeting up later,” you said a little bashfully. “He said he’s looking forward to seeing me.”

Kate smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I bet.”

You elbowed her lightly and put your phone away. It was easier to settle back into the conversation with the group, easier to concentrate, with your chest not feeling so tight.

——

“Hey,” you greeted him softly inside the coffee shop later that day. He’d arrived early again.

You felt almost more awkward now than you had when meeting him for the first time.

“How have you been, Sunshine?” He asked as you took your seat.

“Good. Fine. Yeah.” You nodded before you shook it. “I wanted to apologise, John. For a lot of things but—“

“No need, Sunshine, honestly,” he waved you off gruffly, leaning forward in his seat as you shrank back in yours. “I’m just glad you’re happy to see me now.”

“I am,” you confirmed with a shy smile, sat opposite him and growing more relaxed at the pleased twitch of his moustache.

“So what’s been new?” He asked again.

You snorted. “It’s only been a couple of weeks since we last saw each other,” you said.

He blushed, the pink flush half hidden behind the beard he was growing back out.

“Guess I got used to all the updates throughout the day quicker than I’d realised.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before looking to the counter and sitting up straighter. “Do you want anything? My treat.”

Your smile had dropped at the reminder of how you’d skipped out of his life so suddenly; even though you didn’t owe him anything, you had grown to be friends before the wedding and you know you’d have been hurt if it was the other way around.

“Yeah, just an iced latte please,” you said before stopping him from standing. “Hey, I said I was making it up to you. I should be paying.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not likely. You’re making it up to me by sticking around, Sunshine. You didn’t have to come at all.”

“John…”

“One iced latte coming up,” he said and stood. “God knows why, they taste more of sugar than coffee.”

“That’s exactly why,” you huffed a hesitant laugh as he headed to the counter. When he came back a minute later and sat down with the drinks you took a sip before speaking. “To answer your question, work has been the same old, but I’m thinking of maybe getting a pet? Tied between a cat and a rabbit at the moment. If it’s a rabbit, I’ll need to sort the garden though, it’s little bit overgrown right now.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise and he put his tea down. “You got the tools for it?”

“I think my neighbour has a lawnmower and my mum probably has a pair of shears I could borrow for the hedges,” you hummed. It had only been a half thought semi-recently, so you’d not put much planning into the idea yet, just the start of a pinterest board of cute ideas.

“I could help,” he offered, a touch too casual. “If you wanted. I’ve got a lawnmower I don’t get to use too often and some time off before I have to head back to work.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said with a gentle smile.

He nodded.

“What about you?” You asked.

“Same old,” he said vaguely, repeating your own words back at you. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “I am having to go back to work properly soon though.��

You tilted your head, confused at his drab tone, certain as you were that you’d messaged once or twice when he was at work, stuck doing paperwork or in a meeting before the wedding.

“I’ll be heading overseas,” he clarified. “Might not be contactable for a few weeks at a time. Just didn’t want you to think…”

“That you were ignoring me to get back at me for the fact that I ghosted you?” You guessed when he trailed off. John nodded sheepishly.

“Fuck, I’m glad I’ve gotten to see you before I go,” he said quietly, just looking at you.

“Me too,” you agreed. Impulsively, you finished off your drink and made a quick decision. “Do you want to come back to mine for dinner? I’ll cook.”

John grinned brightly. “I’d love that.”

——

You busied yourself in the kitchen when you got back home with him, missing his chuffed smirk when he saw your door was still in working order with no sign of it dragging on the doorstep.

You didn’t miss his hum when he joined you in the kitchen a moment later.

“That shelf meant to be on a slant?” He asked, eyes shrewd as he looked at your collection of herbs and spices.

“Oh, no but I’ve just never found time to fix it. And it’s not fallen down yet, so it’s not even made an appearance on my Urgent List.” You shrugged.

He hummed again and headed back to the front door. “I’ve got my tool box with me, I’ll sort it now for you.”

“No, John, you don’t have to,” you called after him, but he was already out of the door. You didn’t know that he’d kept his toolbox in his truck ever since he was first here just in case you messaged again needing anything sorted, and now he was glad his foresight was paying off.

The shelf was sorted quicker than the kettle boiled and you swatted at him to go relax once he’d cleaned up after himself. He placatingly held his hands up in mock surrender and went to wash up in the bathroom while you rinsed some veg under the kitchen tap.

You were given ten minutes of peace before you started to wonder where he’d gone and left the pasta in the pan boiling and the sauce on a low heat to find him. You weren’t afraid to chew him out if he was snooping, but instead you found him hunched over the sink in the bathroom.

“Taps were finicky,” he said before you’d had chance to ask him what he was doing. When he’d had chance to grab his tools from the kitchen without you noticing you didn’t know, but you couldn’t help but snicker as he frowned down at the old taps.

“Don’t do well sitting still, do you, John?”

He shrugged. “Figured I might as well since I’m here,” he said instead.

You snorted. “Come help me with the sauce once you’re done here then.”

You stifled a laugh when you heard him swear through the open door before the sound of a running tap turned on and off a few times. He came back through to the kitchen a little later with a satisfied smile and you did your best to concentrate on cooking instead.

You smiled at him when he settled in next to you to take over stirring the sauce, leaving you free to set the table. You felt a pang of domesticity, it was all so easy with John.

You plated it up and sat down together. Eating dinner with him was just as easy, the awkwardness you’d felt walking into the cafe forgotten about completely as conversation flowed naturally between the two of you. Though you did have to fend the man off from planning to go out in the morning to get the wood to build you either a hutch for a potential rabbit or put up climbing shelves if you decided on a cat instead; he’d figured you’d be able to decide by time you’d finished the pasta.

“Best meal I’ve had in a while,” he sighed happily when he finished off the pasta. “Stunning.”

“Thanks, John,” you said bashfully. When you stood to take the dishes he moved quicker and grabbed the plate from your hands. You didn’t bother complaining, knowing how stubborn the man was already; instead you joined him and put the dishes away once he’d cleaned them, smiling to yourself as the pair of you worked in comfortable silence.

When all was put away and your kitchen was back to normal - now with a sturdier shelf - he smiled and headed for the door reluctantly with his toolbox in hand.

“Thanks for today, Sunshine,” he said softly and, after a brief moment of deliberation, he leant in to kiss your cheek. “Talk to you later?”

You nodded happily and closed the door behind him.

When you laid in bed later that night you couldn’t stop thinking about the gentle, chaste kiss. The only real one you’d shared so far.

——

You only got a week with John before he disappeared. He’d made you promise to keep him updated like you would normally so he could catch up when he got back again, but you tried not to overwhelm his notifications; sticking to a couple of texts every few days instead of the daily messages you’d quickly fallen back into.

If he wanted more you were sure he’d let you know and if he only skim read the mountain of messages and photos you’d still managed to send then you’d ease up next time.

He said he would be gone a month, tops, but you didn’t hear from him for two. You tried not to worry, his job wasn’t an exact science, but that fact could make you more anxious depending on the day.

It was a random Wednesday evening when you got a knock on your front door and your heart suddenly plummeted.

You walked to the door with shaking hands. The repercussions of John’s work had never fully occurred to you until this moment, or at least you’d done your best not to linger on it for too long. But now visions of the person on the other side of your door being someone in an official uniform, waiting to let you know weeks too late that John had—

John had shown up to your house unexpectedly.

“Sunshine.” He smiled.

Clearly tired, he stood on your doorstep with his hair damp and curling at the ends, his beard overgrown and his work gear still on, though a big bag was hooked over his shoulder. His smile never wavered, relieved when you answered the door.

“John?” You stepped to the side to let him in without a second thought and he trailed a heavy hand appreciatively down your arm.

“Cleaned up a little at base, but I haven’t stopped driving home since. I’ve had you on my mind as soon as we were wheels down,” he admitted with soft eyes.

You didn’t question his use of the term ‘home’ when referring to driving to yours after spending months in another country and you certainly weren’t going to think about how it made you feel.

“You should’ve gone back to yours to sleep, or at least dropped off your things,” you berated him half-heartedly. “We could’ve caught up when you weren’t running on— what? Four hours of sleep?”

“Knew you’d be my first stop.” He’d dropped his bag by the front door, his daft hat dropped on top, and was slumping onto your couch with a heavy sigh. “Should’ve left my shit at base maybe. Just didn’t want to have to drive back tomorrow.”

“Have you eaten?” At his slight shake of the head, you moved to the kitchen and started pulling something together, leaving him to relax. You knew he must be tired by how he wasn’t following after you, and your suspicions were confirmed when you came back with a thick sandwich, the last slice of a quiche you’d made earlier in the week and some picky bits from your fridge to find him asleep. You cringed at the lacklustre dinner, but you hadn’t been expecting guests and you were going grocery shopping tomorrow, so you placed it on the coffee table and sat down carefully next to him so he didn’t wake.

Turning down the volume on the TV, you let him nap as you watched a few episodes of your latest favourite. You couldn’t help but let your eyes dart over to him every so often to check on him, giggling when you noticed his mouth had dropped open during his well deserved catnap.

You paused your show when he grumbled and wiped a slow hand over his face a few hours later.

“Hello, sleepyhead. Hungry?”

“Starving,” he groaned croakily.

“Best I could do on short notice,” you said and handed him the plate. You watched like a big cat documentarian as he tore through the food with an unholy passion, finished in minutes. You silently handed him your water and he chugged it back with a loud ‘ahh’ after.

“Lovely as ever,” he said sleepily before nodding back off. You stifled a laugh and stood to grab him an extra pillow and blanket. It was clear he wouldn’t be driving home tonight, so you thought you might as well let him get comfy and crash on the couch for the night.

A brief thought crossed your mind of waking John and letting him share your bed; you’d done it for the wedding after all, and it wouldn’t have to mean anything.

You shook your head and draped the blanket over him. You knew it would mean something and you weren’t ready to make that step yet as much as you wanted it.

——

You woke in the morning to John using your shower and you smiled at him with raised ‘brows when he came back out dressed in more familiar civ clothes. You looked for the bag at the front door but couldn’t see it.

“Staying for breakfast or heading home?”

“Heading home, sadly. But I’ll call you later, yeah? I want to catch up properly,” he said. “Thanks for letting me stay, Sunshine.”

“Of course,” you said genuinely and in between bites of your cereal. “It was a nice surprise.”

He hummed and leant in to kiss your temple with a warm hand cradling the back of your neck. You tried desperately not to push into him and to ignore the thoughts of how he smelt like you out of your head; how if anyone tried to flirt with him on his way home they’d smell your strawberry shampoo and very berry body wash. How your spring air scented febreeze spray had sunk into his jacket from the couch through the night.

Your subtle mark was all over him and neither of you seemed to mind.

“Call me when you get home, John.”

He hummed, lingered for a moment more, then headed out with his bag in tow.

——

The bar was loud and your friends were still wide awake and partying strong, celebrating the news of Paige’s well earned promotion. You, however, were flagging.

It was late, and the prospect of staying out any later was making holding back a yawn nigh impossible. You’d never been a big drinker so you’d not been keeping pace with the others, a possible mistake since you seemed to lack the same energy as them, found firmly in their second wind. The last thing you wanted to do was bail but you didn’t want to bring the mood just down hanging around either.

Your phone buzzed and you smiled when you saw it was john.

>> Still awake?

<< for once yeah :p

>> What show has you gripped to binge watch late into the night this time?

You snorted.

<< out celebrating with friends, paige got promoted!!!

>> Tell her congratulations from me

>> What time does the party end?

<< idk but i’m ready for bed already 😪

<< taxi isn’t booked for another couple of hours tho :(

John’s speech bubble appeared and disappeared a few times and you watched the screen avidly.

>> Do you want me to come meet you to walk you home?

<< really??

<< would you mind? it’s late and a little cold so you don’t have to!

>> Send me the address and I’ll set off now

<< thanks john ❤️

Either John lived close or he’d ran there, as you’d only just finished telling your friends that you were leaving early when John turned up.

“You shouldn’t leave on your own, walking home at this time of night is dangerous,” Cass said worriedly, her words slurring slightly.

“I’m not, John’s meeting me to walk me home,” you said and flushed when they all cheered and whistled at the mention of his name; their catcalls gained volume and enthusiasm when John walked through the bar door a second later, head on a swivel as he looked for you in the crowd.

“Fuck off,” you hissed at your friends playfully and hugged them all goodbye before you headed over to John. He was grinning and waved happily over to your friends, nudging you when he saw the embarrassed scrunch of your shoulders.

“Good night?” He asked once you were on the path outside.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She deserved the raise like three years ago, but at least they’re finally recognising all the work she does.”

John nodded along. He cursed a moment later when he felt a few raindrops. You both looked up at the gentle patter and gasped when it quickly turned torrential.

Your walk turned into a run as John grabbed your hand tightly and led you a little shop alcove near by, shoving you under and crowding in after you.

“Shit, I should’ve driven,” he blamed himself, looking at your soggy jacket and the rain that had splattered your round cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, John,” you waved it off. “Bit of rain never hurt anyone.”

The pair of you were pressed close, his broad shoulders and your wide hips taking up the space in the doorway enough that you were both holding your breath in each other’s space.

“Just my luck really,” you said.

“It’s just British weather,” John corrected. “Don’t know why I wasn’t expecting it to rain in the middle of summer,” he joked.

You laughed and felt butterflies flutter at his mirrored rumble, focused on where your stomach pressed against his. You no longer felt tired stood with him.

It went quiet, with just the soft rain and the sound of the odd car passing by the only things heard for a moment as you both held your breath, eyes locked.

You leant forward those last few inches and pressed your lips against his. Your noses bumped and you automatically lifted a hand to tilt his chin slightly to adjust, pressing your lips a little firmer when he followed your guiding hold. His hands on your hips were reverent as he let you lead.

You delighted in the scratch of his beard for a split second before suddenly flinching back, your hand becoming firm against his shoulder to keep him from following.

“Fuck,” you swore shakily. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he huffed with a confused smile.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you insisted. You felt him lean towards you and firmed the stretch of your arm to keep him in place as best you could in the small space. “It’s mixed messages. It’s not fair to you.”

“I’m still waiting,” he admitted. “I’ll wait however long y’need, Sunshine.”

You ducked your head.

“I feel guilty,” you whispered. You swallowed thickly as the reasons were finally voiced even as you avoided his eyes. “I feel like it’s Charlotte all over again for you; I’m stringing you along when you could be finding someone else. I’m— it’s not fair,” you repeated.

He leant back in shock, a frown pulling at his brows and his mouth moving silently for a moment. John looked down at you from his tucked in chin and considered your comparison, knowing the quick denial on the tip of his tongue wouldn’t soothe you.

“Have you decided that then? You don’t want to be with me?” He asked finally.

You hesitated, unable to lie and say no, and he latched onto that with a fierce hold.

You thought back to what your friends had said, the fun you’d been having with him again, how natural it all was.

“Sunshine…”

“We could take it slow?” You asked.

“Of course,” he agreed readily, pushing those few inches closer to you in eagerness. “Slow and steady, whatever you need.”

“Ok.” You nodded.

“Ok?”

“I like you, John,” you admitted almost shyly, smiling up at him. “I want to try.”

In the next breath he ducked close to kiss you again.

You were pressed against the damp, grainy wall of the little alcove as he greedily slipped a hand beneath your shirt and hungrily kissed you, not stopping for a breath or a gasp now that you’d given the go ahead.

“W-what— happened t-to,” you gasped as he filled your space and every thought. The patter of the rain going unheard as his shaky breaths filled your ears and echoed torturously. “Take— taking it s-slow?”

He sucked on your lip before pulling back and panting, swapping breaths with you. “I’m not down on one knee, am I?” He asked as though you were being obtuse.

You snorted, eyes wide in disbelief. But you didn’t push him away, instead your grip kept him close.

He dipped in for another peck and you cupped his bearded cheeks.

“My house isn’t far from here,” you suggested softly. Testing the waters.

In a flash John was dragging you out of the alcove and down the street with you laughing as you splashed through the puddles to keep up with his determined pace.

“Wrong way, John,” you laughed and tugged at his arm, directing him the to follow you and head the other way towards your house. He crowded against your back, slightly off to the side, and you felt butterflies erupt at the sound of his low chuckle as your steps overlapped and you tripped each other in eagerness.

——

Once you were safely inside your home, it didn’t take long for you to get naked and climb on the bed. You dragged John along with you, clad still in his boxers.

He hovered over you as you laid back flat, his broad palms running from your ribs to your flank soothingly as he settled between your thick thighs.

His eyes were all black, the usual greyblue just a thin strip around the edges as he took you in in all your glory.

The need to make you keen and cream on his fingers was obvious by his hungry expression and the flexing of his hold on your softest parts.

“Been wanting this for too long, Sunshine,” he whispered. “Longer than you know.”

“Think I can guess,” you gasped as he lowered himself down and kissed your stomach, making sure to cover each curve and roll as he journeyed up, keeping his warm palms cupped and dragging up your sides as he kissed between your breasts. Your knees squeezed him at the ribs when he palmed one of your tits, using the light hold to lick a broad stripe over the sensitive nipple. He went back to kissing higher, trailing up along your stretched neck and biting teasingly at your earlobe before coming face to face.

“Any preferences?” Fingers, tongue, toys.

“I’d prefer to cum sooner than later,” you said cheekily, basking in his eye roll.

“Yes, ma’am,” he huffed good naturedly. “I’ll do my best.”

He leant down and kissed you, plunging and messy, not like the dry brush of lips in the rain or the rushed eager swaps of spit and squished smiles on the way home and into your bedroom. You brushed your hands over his furry chest and trembled pleasantly, raking your fingers through and sighing at the strength usually hidden beneath layers of baggy and comfortable clothing.

“John,” you sighed and he shuffled his way down back between your legs.

“Just lay back and relax,” he ordered before trailing his nose through your bush, huffing in an opened-mouthed breath with a pleased hum.

“Need a map?” You joked breathily, breath hitching when he huffed an amused breath at your opening, pressing a light kiss there afterwards. His thumb gently spread your vulva and he gave a gentle kitten lick. Using the building wetness he found he trailed his thumb lower to your arsehole and kept it there with little pressure.

“Nah, this is your clit, right?” he asked teasingly. You snorted, but felt your pussy clench and your muscles tense when he added a bit of pressure.

“John—“

“Relax,” he said again. He moved his attention and his hand back up. “Don’t need a guided tour, though I appreciate the offer; wouldn’t mind watching you show me what you like another day. But I know what I’m doing, love.”

He licked a stripe up your centre and your eyes fluttered, your hips pushing up into his hands when he puckered his wet lips around your clit and gently suckled. “Yeah, you do,” you whimpered.

He slipped his middle finger inside fluidly, no resistance, and you let out a soft sigh, your hips subtly raising to get him as deep as you could. He changed the angle of his mouth so his strong nose nudged at your bundle of nerves and he could mouth at your plush wet opening instead. He licked around his finger, adding to the sticky mess as you practically sucked him in.

He could tell by the flutters of your cunt that you were enjoying yourself, the pinch of your brow only adding to his confirmation when he looked up, but you were so quiet.

“Y’can be loud for me, Sunshine,” he said, curling his finger and grinning cheshire-cat-wide when your jaw dropped at the feeling. “Don’t be shy.”

“Give me reason to,” you said with a cut off gasp. “W-work for it.”

He felt heat rush to his core, fattening his already throbbing cock.

As you wish.

He hooked one trembling thigh over his meaty shoulder and focused back on the heat between your legs; like sticky syrup, slippery between the pads of his fingers as he dipped a second finger in beside the first.

He gave you a moment to clench around the thicker intrusion with closed eyes before setting a quicker, less forgiving pace than before. You let out a surprised grunt, your hand flying down to grip his hair as he sealed his lips to your clit with a wagging tongue.

“Fuck.”

His left hand moved to keep your hips still, strapped across your soft tummy like a seatbelt, his palm a firm pressure in the soft pudge below your bellybutton.

He broke the seal of his mouth to heave in a panting breath and nibbled at the soft skin of your thigh beside his head to catch his breath while his fingers continued to pull sweet noises from you.

You whimpered softly, dropping your hands to the mattress and clinging tight to the sheets and felt your cheeks heat up when John chuckled.

“Can’t tell what I prefer hearing,” he said and paused his fingers deep inside of you, spreading them to get a little look at the desperate cling of you around his long digits. Your creamy arousal slid down the back of his hairy knuckles and he revelled in the light squelch as you wriggled in his hold, urging his fingers deeper inside. “Your sweet cunt or your careful moans.”

“Please, John,” you asked. Pleaded. “I’m close.”

He slipped his fingers free of your tight clutch and shushed you with a smile when you whined. Licking his pruny fingers clean, he groaned at the taste.

“I’ll get you there, Sunshine, don’t worry.”

He left a wet smack of a kiss on your thigh before ducking back down and licking deep and insatiable into your needy cunt, his fingers focused on your sensitive clit instead, rubbing almost too hard and too fast as your hips pushed your cunt further into his mouth. His arm kept you locked close and unable to shift away, not that you wanted it to end, but the sudden onslaught of hyper-focused attention was a lot after his teasing and after so long without a partner. Your hand had made its way to the back of his head once more, cupping gently, but urging him forward with a steel determination. He wasn’t allowed back up for air until you’d cum.

He pinched your clit and you shrieked at the nip of pain beneath the pleasure, feeling yourself tumble over the edge as he huffed and grunted into your pussy like a man starved.

John held you close by the thighs with both hands as you arched and clenched on his tongue; slobbering and groaning against your tender vulva as you cried out. He gave your thigh one light but sharp slap as you flooded his senses; sweaty and salty, the taste and scent of you.

You collapsed back with a breathy little, hnngh, and let your fingers scratch lazily through his hair where he’d rested his face in the groove of your groin.

He hummed and dragged himself further up your body before slumping over you, kissing the taste of you into the back of your mouth, ingraining it into your tongue, gums and teeth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you laughed tiredly into his mouth. “Gimme a chance.”

He smiled and ground himself against your hip. “Can’t help it, y’make me feel like a teenager.”

Your nose scrunched and he huffed a laugh. “A’right, won’t make that comparison again.”

You pecked his lips in thanks and slipped your hand down between you, gathering a glob of your own arousal between your fingers. Thoroughly lubed, you pushed your hand under the band of his boxers and rubbed the collected juices over his cock and watched his brow pinch in pleasure.

It was your turn to tease.

You leant up and kissed him open mouthed and slow, the tease of tongue against his lips as he humped against your hand, moans mingling in breaths shared.

You moved your hand lower, went to slip in a finger but he gripped your wrist tightly. You looked up with wide eyes, hand falling loose in his grip where it had stopped you in your tracks.

“No, not like that. I don’t— I don’t like—“

“That’s ok,” you interrupted his stuttering explanation, watching walls build up before your eyes that you were determined not to let solidify. He didn’t need them around you. “We can just keep doing it like before,” you offered easily with a smile and lingering kiss to his fuzzy cheek. “Whatever you want.”

John guided your hand back up hesitantly, watching you as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. He kept your fingers hovering over his cock once more and you pushed forward to rub from tip to root and back up again.

“Yeah?” You asked and watched as his shoulders relaxed again. He moved his arm to lean back on his elbow by your head and you smiled, satisfied with the show of trust. “Yeah, ok.”

You pushed against the spot just below the head of his cock, trapping it against his pubic mound and were gratified as he groaned low, like the sound was forcibly pulled out of him as he thrusted roughly against your fingers. John ducked his head and kissed you, missing the mark in his desperation and licking against the corner of your mouth instead.

You nudged your face up slightly and let him moan against your lips, quickly falling into the distraction of getting him dripping and close; pulling out all your tricks and feeling yourself get worked up in return whenever you felt him throb and pulse in your hand, his thick, hairy thighs shifting either side of yours.

He pulled back and you paused your ministrations immediately, worried you’d done something wrong again, but John hurriedly tugged his boxers down and off, kicking them away from the bed and diving back towards you with a ravenous kiss.

Rolling onto his back, John tugged you into his lap so you were straddling him and for the first time in his presence a burst of hesitance connected to your weight bloomed in your chest.

You lifted up on your knees slightly to relieve some of your weight from his hips.

“Oh, John I don’t know—“

“Come ‘ere, Sunshine,” he pulled your hips back down and urged you to ride him, moving with his own frotting hips as your vulva spread to soak around his cock.

With each grind, the head nudged slightly from its foreskin and kissed your clit perfect as you tilted back. You huffed a weak moan as he slipped through your folds and the schlickschlickschlick sounds of your combined arousal mingling and frothing between your thighs had you panting and moving quicker.

Once you found your pace, one hand balanced back on his hairy thigh and the other rubbing at your clit furiously, he lifted his hands from the fat of your hips and stomach up to thumb at your nipples.

You noticed how he moaned and tensed when you slipped heavily over his sensitive tip and grinned a little meanly as you focused a careful swivel of your hips to catch your slick centre on it. You clenched and gushed over his throbbing tip as he whined, gripping you tightly to try and pull you lower.

“Close?” You asked with a breathy giggle, feeling your own legs shake with the oncoming orgasm.

You traced gentle fingers over his faded top scars beneath his thick thatch of chest hair as he groaned and leant down to kiss him. It didn’t take much longer for you both to cum, both worked up and the constant, teasing brushes at your cores were enough to gradually tip you over the edge.

His hand in your hair kept your mouths attached as you panted hot and wet, and when you broke free to the side his beard was scratchy against your nose and cheek as you shuddered on top of him.

“John, fuck.”

“Just like that, just like that,” he thrusted up in jerky little motions before stilling.

You flopped to the side a moment later, less conscious of your weight but wanting to be comfortable, and he gathered you close immediately. He tucked you under his chin with a grunt, slipping a leg over yours.

“I’m not letting you out of this bed for a week,” he groaned sleepily. You hummed happily, exhausted. He let you drift off before whispering in your ear. “Sorry this isn’t slow, Sunshine, but I won’t be going back to being friends now.”

You grinned and nuzzled closer.

“I think we should go visit my home town next, only fair you meet my crazy family too, yeah?”

John closed his eyes happily and nodded. “Looking forward to it,” he said. “Though my rates are a little higher than £100.”

You pinched his thigh and laughed when he tried to squirm away with a hiss.

You kissed his neck chastely and tightened your arm around his waist, nodding off as you felt him trail a hand back and forth over your naked back.

#this was such a fun chapter to write i feel a lot better about it compared to my prev chapter #hopefully you guys all like the ending :3 i was debating stuff for a while but i like it and im glad they got their cheesy romcom fade #to black afterglow lmao #thank you p for peer reviewing my smut!#john price x reader #price x reader #fat reader #trans john price #john price smut #price smut #cod smut #trans price smut #trans john price smut #im covering all bases here

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mothandpidgeon · 1 month ago

Text

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 5

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, yearning masturbation, vegan slander, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: Today feels like a really rough day in the US so I wanted to share this new chapter. Hopefully it'll take your mind off things. I've had a really really hard time writing this chapter. Really glad I stuck with it and struggled through. Could not have done this without input and beta from @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre. Thank you my little witches!

🐈‍⬛

With Margot’s reprieve, life with Ezra becomes the new normal. Weeks pass and he’s slotted into your day to day so easily. Grocery shopping, breakfast at the cafe down the street. He comes to work with you. Except now, instead of lounging on top of a dusty bookshelf, he helps man the cash register.

Despite your aunt’s insistence that she would not under any circumstances be involved with this ��conspiracy” (her word), she had pointed you in the direction of a vieling spell that would keep Ezra’s transformation under wraps. You and he cast the ward around town hoping it might buy some time but you’ll have to come clean eventually.

“By Yuletide, you’d better come up with a proper appeal,” Aunt Margot said. “People will ask questions if you’re absent and I’m not going to lie.”

There’s still time and so you choose to enjoy this secret, this new chapter with Ezra.

You’re smiling to yourself as you climb the stairs to the second floor of the Page with a book in your hands. It’s an antique school primer someone just brought in for Margot to appraise. Nothing special except that the little darling that once owned it filled the margins with dirty limericks and pencil sketchings of cock and balls. Some things never change, no matter what century it is. Ezra will get a kick out of it. He probably knows a few lewd poems himself.

You hang back when you find him beside the front window. Soft morning light falls over the angular planes of his face. There’s a divot in the center of his throat just visible above the collar of his olive sweatshirt that always catches your eye. You still haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that your old pal Ezra is so damn handsome. Not that you’re attracted to him. He’s just attractive. You’ve reminded yourself of the distinction between that many times over the past few weeks.

But it’s not the cast of the sun that has you hesitating. Ezra’s talking to a customer, his crooked smile revealing the dimple in his cheek, with a tarot deck in his hands.

“And it was the exact image I’d seen when I took ayahuasca,” she says. “The four of cups.”

“Well, cards are certainly prophetic,” he says, his voice edging on a tease.

You know her— Zoe’s a regular. She moved into town after backpacking through South America, and waitresses at the diner. She comes in to buy crystals from time to time and she’s good for business. Ever since the diner got written up as one of the “hidden gems of the Catskills,” she sends more and more of her customers over to the Page.

She’s been stopping in even more recently, the shop’s newest doe-eyed employee obviously her motivation. Twice a week you find her in conversation with Ezra. In fact, she’s given up the pretense that she’s actually shopping for anything anymore.

“Have you ever had your aura photographed?” she asks.

“No. A picture of me is a rare thing, indeed,” he says.

Zoe’s the exact kind of mortal Ezra detests– always talking about “getting into wicca” as if magic is a hobby she can try on– but she’s beautiful. She has hazel eyes and razor sharp cheekbones. Her slim arms are tattooed with delicate talismen and her haircuts seamlessly straddle the border between chic and edgy.

“I know a place down in Woodstock where you can get it done. Next time I’m going, maybe you can tag along,” she offers.

There’s a sparkle in Ezra’s eye that makes your chest tight.

You retreat to the stairs before you hear his answer. The sensation building in you is a stab, a flare of something bitter and dark. You’re not sure why you’re jealous because you don’t have feelings for Ezra. Okay, maybe a little crush. But you’ve got that in check. You’re not going to fall for your best friend just because he woke up with the most handsome face you’ve ever seen.

And you’re definitely not intimidated by Zoe’s waif-like frame and heavily lidded eyes. Next to her, you look like an ogre. But why would you need to compare yourself to her? And why shouldn’t Ezra get to bang a goddess when he has a mouth that should be sculpted in marble?

You realize how ridiculous this train of thought is becoming so you shove it down as tightly as you can, actually shaking your head as though this insanity might tumble out of your ear.

“You okay?”

Zoe’s standing in front of you at the register, the tarot deck set on the counter between you.

“You’re buying something,” you say, though it’s more of a question than a statement.

“This deck has a really good vibe,” she tells you. “Ezra picked it out.”

Hearing her say his name, you’re like a cat with its hair standing on end.

“He’s got the same name as your cat. Isn’t that funny,” she notes.

“I see how you look at him,” you say. It’s not meant to come out as an accusation but there’s a bite to your words you weren’t expecting. You’re being ridiculous so you decide to prove to yourself once and for all that your feelings are strictly platonic. The faster you see Ezra with someone, the quicker this little crush will die.

Luckily, Zoe doesn’t notice it. “That obvious, huh?”

“You should take him for a drink. He’d like that,” you say. Something like relief comes over you. Obviously you’re not jealous. If you were, you wouldn’t have tried to set him up.

“You think so?” she asks, glancing back towards the stairs. “I tried to give him my number but he told me he doesn’t have a phone.”

You try to keep yourself from laughing at what a devastating rejection that would be if it weren't true.

“He actually doesn’t,” you say.

“Really?”

You shrug.

She nods. “That’s smart. The EMF really messes with your brainwaves.”

“Hm,” you say with a noncommittal nod. “Well, I’ll have him send you a letter or something.”

–

Ezra used to trot down the stairs of the bookstore. Now he has to duck to keep his head from smacking into the shelf that hangs over the doorframe.

It’s taken some time to get used to his body again but after these few weeks, he’s navigating the world with ease. Ezra hasn’t felt this happy in hundreds of years. He’s doing magic for the first time in a long time and he spends his days working in the bookstore. It’s oddly enjoyable even despite the fact that it’s dull and full of silly mortals. Best of all, there’s you.

He still can’t comprehend how lucky he is to be given this gift. To be yours. Even if he isn’t anymore, not beholden by the fetters of a familiar, he’ll never stop thinking of himself as belonging to you.

You’re smiling at him as he comes to the counter and he has to resist the urge to nuzzle his head into your shoulder as he used to greet you. If there’s one thing he misses about being a cat, it’s your scratching behind his ears.

“I got you a date with her,” you say.

“The vegan?” Ezra asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a laugh. “The vegan that you shamelessly flirt with.”

Ezra furrows his brow. He was once quite the charmer but he hasn’t intended to do anything more than amuse himself. Over and over, this woman batted her eyelashes at him and Ezra carefully demurred each time. She was pretty. Perhaps some time ago he would have liked to bed her but he has no designs on her now, not when he falls asleep swimming in the scent of your skin each night.

”You shouldn’t have done that,“ he says.

”Why not? She’s so into you,” you reply.

Ezra says nothing because his answer would give it all away. Instead he grabs a handful of bookmarks decorated with pressed flowers and busies himself putting them on a table on the other side of the room.

“You’ve been celibate for how long?” you go on, following behind.

“No need for reminders.”

“We need to get you laid!” you say so helpfully. ”Are you blushing?”

If Ezra’s red in the face, it’s only because he’s realizing what a fool he’s being. You’re ready to send him off to another while he’s madly in love with you. He shouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t expect that you were going to suddenly leap into his arms with any of the enthusiasm Zoe’s shown him. Maybe he thought there was some chance, some faint hope that you could belong just as much to him.

But this makes your feelings so clear. You’re not interested. You’re ready to pawn him off on some ridiculous mortal.

”What’s wrong? She too young for you or something?” you tease.

Zoe is, no doubt, attractive and she’d made it clear that she’s ready to take him to bed, both facts that should have elated him. The problem was, she wasn’t you. And you were someone he’d never have.

“I can manage my own matchmaking,“ he grumbles. He moves on to a stack of books, straightening their spines though they’re hardly askew. Anything to keep himself from looking at you, being reminded that you’re off limits.

“Ez, she’s been throwing herself at you.“

”I suppose in my time I’ve learned to savor the hunt.“

“Oh please. You used to eat out of my hand. You should be thanking me,” you say.

Thanking you for pushing him into the arms of another. His despair calcifies into a rotten resentment. You don’t want him, you never will.

“I’d much prefer it if you didn’t involve yourself,” he says. It’s nearly impossible to keep the venom out of his voice.

You scoff. In the corner of his eye, you’re frowning. ”Okay. If I’d known you were going to be such a dick about it, I wouldn’t have bothered,” you say, and then you turn around shaking your head and walk away.

He watches you stomp into the next room, regret flooding him. He shouldn’t be so mean, not to you, but the damage has been done. There’s hardly time to think about it because Margot is breezing in from the back door with Percy riding high on her shoulder, the sound of her bracelets filling the store with their music. Ezra sets his features in as neutral an expression he can manage.

“Oh, Ezra, dear. Just who I was looking for,” she says. “Come here a minute.”

She sets a wide box that’s tied with a grosgrain ribbon on the counter.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Open it.”

He looks from her to her familiar before he pulls the dark ribbon and lifts the lid. Inside is something he hasn’t seen in a dog’s age. The memories it brings back makes his lips tick up in an absent smile.

“Robes,” he says. “How did you—?”

“We found a description in Goody Cartwright’s diary in the basement,” Margot said. “Dusted off the old sewing machine.”

Percival scampers down her arm to climb into the box. He crawls beneath a sleeve and lifts the hem in his paws, standing on his hind legs.

“I hope they turned out,” Margot says.

“Mine were nearly identical,” Ezra says as he wistfully inspects the fabric.

He still remembers the feel of the homespun linen against his skin. His robes always smelled of woodsmoke from the moon revels. They had been stained with wine and goat’s milk, the bottom edge besotted with moss and rainwater.

“It was Percy’s idea,” she says.

The mouse ducks his head bashfully when Ezra looks up at him.

Ezra swallows down the lump in his throat. He’s moved, jaw gripped as he tries to stop from shedding tears. Another gift he’s not worthy of, compounded by the fact that he’s just upset you again. You were doing for him what you’ve always done– taking care of him, showing him that you loved him. If only he could accept it’s not the way he wants it.

He sets his hand out on the countertop.

“Percival,” he says.

After some hesitation, Percy steps into Ezra’s palm. Ezra brings the mouse up so that he sits at eye level.

“I deserve a much starker retribution from you, friend,” Ezra says. “I hope you’ll forgive my misdeeds.”

Percy cocks his head to the side.

“He says he’ll think about it,” Margot tells him.

Ezra grins. He offers a finger which Percy takes in his paw and they shake hands.

“You can wear them this weekend. Sunday’s your first full moon since you turned,” Margot says.

Ezra had forgotten all about the phases of the moon. How could he be expected to keep track of such things when there were so many new things to experience?

”We’ll celebrate,” Margot insists.

He wants to protest. Right now he doesn't feel much like frivolity, can’t imagine you’ll want to join in with any festivities when he’s been such a complete and total ass. But he knows he ought to learn his lesson and accept.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

Percy squeaks happily and Margot claps her hands together.

“Come on, Percy! There’s much to be done!” she says before disappearing into the back room.

The rest of the day is tense between you and Ezra, with few words exchanged. He’s lived with you long enough that it’s not your very first squabble but, in the past, it was much easier to stay out from underfoot. The apartment feels so much smaller now that he’s human, its walls crushing when there’s silence between you. It’s at its worst when you announce you’re going to bed. It feels cold, lacking an invitation, and so Ezra waits in the kitchen for a long while wondering if you want him beside you at all.

Some time after you’ve turned off the light, he slinks in nervously. He might as well be sneaking into the bed, though for all intents and purposes, it’s become just as much his as it is yours. He’s shared it with you from that very first night. Neither of you raised the notion of his sleeping elsewhere so it became a habit. He wonders now, more strongly than ever, if he’s overstayed his welcome.

You lay facing the window but he knows your breathing well enough to see you’re not yet sleeping. He lays on the cold sheets hating himself for loving you, for taking advantage of you, for disappointing you.

“I shouldn’t have accused you of meddling,” he says quietly.

Ezra has accepted the fact that he’ll have to take this mortal out despite having no interest in her. There’s no good reason not to, as you so aptly showed him, and if he doesn’t you’ll want to know why.

At some point in the late afternoon he decided that he would make the best of it. He would stop kidding himself and accept that you had no romantic feelings for him and try to keep an open mind with Zoe. At the very worst, he’d finally get a long overdue fuck. How could a man mope over that?

But seeing the slope of your shoulder in the moonlight, your eyelashes fluttering as you turn your face up to the ceiling, makes him realize just how impossible is the task that lies ahead of him.

You sigh and turn over, sheets rustling with your movement. There’s just enough light in the room to shine in your sweet eyes as you look at him and tuck a hand under your pillow.

“Ez, it’s okay. I know why you got upset,” you say.

His heart skips a beat. Of course you know. He’s been so obvious, how could you not see it? He swallows hard, unsure of what he’ll say when you call him out. It feels like an age passes as he waits for you to say the words.

“You haven’t been with anybody for a long time. If you’re not ready, I get it,” you say and you put a gentle hand over his.

A little laugh escapes him. How absurdly wrong he’d been. He sinks deeper into his self pity. How could he ever imagine a creature as kind and beautiful as you would want him? A reprobate, hundreds of years old. A fucking cat.

“Yes, well, I suppose if she’s as smitten as you believe I’ve nothing to worry about,” he says.

A smile cracks across your lips and your gaze melts over his face. You brush your palm across his cheek and Ezra can’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch of your warm skin.

“How could she not be?” you say.

Your gaze lingers on him, your expression difficult to read. There’s nothing but the sound of your soft breaths and the whisper of dry leaves outside the window. His heart aches, wishing he could curl himself around you and say the words that live on the tip of his tongue. But the moment passes as you pull your hand back to your side of the mattress and the gulf between you feels wider than ever. He lays awake for what feels like hours wishing he was still a cat so he could sleep in your embrace.

You lay on the couch with a book spread open on your lap but you haven’t been able to read a single page. Ezra’s out with Zoe which is fine. Totally fine. You made it happen after all, even gave him some cash for drinks and coaching on the dating scene.

“I’m newly human but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m well acquainted with the customs and mores of modern courtship,” he protested.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” you asked.

For a moment, you almost fooled yourself into thinking he wasn’t interested in her. He’d been so prickly when you brought it up. There have been times when you wonder. You’ll catch him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter. Or his touch will remain just a moment longer than it needs to, days when you wake up and question if his morning wood is actually for you and not just a fact of human biology. But of course not. And that’s fine.

It’s been a while since you’ve had the apartment to yourself— certainly not in the weeks since Ezra became human— and you’ve had little down time. There’s always some new adventure to take him on. Not that you’re complaining. It’s been the most thrilling time of your life.

This whole date situation is good, actually, because you could really use a night alone. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You poured yourself a glass of wine and lit some incense, cracked open the book. A good start. That’s about all you managed. You keep thinking about how it’s going with Ezra. What could they be talking about? Is he having fun? Maybe he’ll actually like her. Wouldn’t that be….something?

Things could never get romantic between the two of you anyway. You wouldn’t risk your friendship, so many years of trust and affection. It’s too precious to you. Besides, there must be something unethical about dating someone that’s been sworn to serve and protect you.

Not that you want to do that.

You snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table, sitting up. You need to stop being weirdly obsessed with this date. Ezra is your friend, you remind yourself, and you’re excited for him. You just need something more engrossing.

You put on a period piece. Nothing like a night in with ballgowns and wine. You put your feet up on the table and try to lose yourself in the movie. Ezra is such a pedant when it comes to historical dramas, always pointing out the inaccuracies, complaining about the costumes.

You wish he were here now groaning over the cut of a coat. You wish he was here instead of–

This isn’t working. You know what always clears your mind? A bath.

The clawfoot tub is filled with oils and herbs, the little bathroom flickers in candle light. You slide deeper into the warm water, focus on the way your muscles unwind. You hadn’t even noticed you were so tense. This was a good call. There’s a knot in your shoulder you massage with your hand. Finally feeling serene, your wet fingers coming to slide across your chest. The water drips peacefully out of the faucet and your cheeks bloom with the alcohol and heat. Maybe Ezra should go on more dates, get the place to yourself more often.

You know what would really make you feel relaxed? Your fingers drift below the water, and skate down your belly and your eyes come to close. It’s been over a month since you got off– Connor (though most of the credit should really go to your passion elixir). It’s been impossible to rub one out with someone else in your bed. At least when Ezra was a cat, he spent a lot of time prowling the woods and being moody. Maybe he’d heard you back then, a thought that somehow equally horrifies and thrills you.

You touch yourself with a slow, delicate hand and you’re lost in the idea of him watching you now. His chocolate eyes hungry but his body still, the only movement he allows is the rise and fall of his chest. How many times had he seen you, all of you, and not looked away?

You shiver imagining him, urging you to show him how you take yourself apart. Studying, appreciating. Savoring. Throbbing at each twitch in your brow as you crest and your breath hitches. Even in the water you can feel yourself growing slick, a coil of need winding, and you bite down on your bottom lip. Your mind swirls, your body taught.

He’d be calling you dirty and pretty and good in his flowery prose, stroking your cheek with his knuckles and you unfurl a moan so loud because you don’t have to stay quiet, you’ve got the place to yourself.

Before you’ve even come down from your high, you're flooded with the sting of reality.

No matter how wrong or immoral or risky it is, there’s no denying it– your feelings for Ezra are anything but platonic. And he’s on a date with another woman.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a groan.

The thought of facing Ezra after this revelation makes your stomach turn. You can almost see him sauntering in, hair mussed, body slack from his sexual conquest. It burns a hole in your chest, a scream practically rising in your throat. And you’ll, what, go on living with him, smelling his musk on your sheets and not go completely insane?

You pull the plug from the drain. So much for the bath. It’s early yet but the only thing you can do to help yourself now is be unconscious. There’s no way you’re going to fall asleep with your thoughts racing so you brew up a sleeping draught in the kitchen. With any luck, you won’t have any dreams either.

Ezra’s side of the bed is empty and cold. Mid-morning sun glows on the walls of your bedroom and you’re just waking up, the effects of the potion still making your head groggy. But eventually it dawns on you. He’s not there.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Your eyes sting with tears, your gut sinking with the weight of it. You imagine Ezra curled up in bed with her. Morning sex. Breakfast. You want to puke.

After a long while pulling yourself together, you realize it’s better this way. The last thing you need is to wake up next to Ezra smelling like sex and the patchouli notes of Zoe’s perfume.

You can’t sulk. You need to get up, get over it.

When you step out of your bedroom, you stop short at the discovery that Ezra’s asleep on the couch. So he didn’t spend the night. It does little to soothe your aching heart. In fact, it somehow feels worse. He looks so perfect, long legs bare and brow smooth, mouth turned down in a pout. It’s not fair you have to survive around a man so perfect.

You go into the bathroom and close the door a little too loud a little on purpose.

Maybe there’s a potion for falling out of love.

Ezra’s dragged himself up by the time you step back into the living room, woken by the slam of the door. He had the damndest time sleeping on that couch. Never realized how lucky he’s been to share the bed.

You stop outside the bathroom door, arms akimbo, and your oversized sleep shirt rides up your thighs.

“Well?” you ask.

Ezra can’t help but smirk at your down to business attitude.

Well indeed.

Zoe had been fine company. Not hard to look at even if the conversation left a little to be desired. His favorite part of the evening came when Zoe brought up the shop and, in turn, you. It was difficult not to let his words run away from him.

Despite his best efforts, knowing that he should give over and accept this, his mind kept slipping back to his little mage. What you would look like in the little frock Zoe had chosen, the jokes that only you would understand. You’d helped him pick out clothes for the evening, a soft woolen sweater you swore wasn't too tight. All night, he kept remembering the drag of your eyes over his arms before you said, “You look really good.” He wants you to look at him like that all the time.

”She’s not intolerable for a mortal,“ he says.

“‘Not intolerable.’ Sounds like Ezra for bangable,” you say. “So?”

Perhaps in another universe, Ezra would have had a splendid time, would have debauched himself. He’d left after only two drinks, a look of disappointment on Zoe’s face that he wouldn’t soon forget. Had he been a better man, he would’ve felt worse about it but he couldn’t care about anything but you. As he walked briskly from the bar, he resolved to tell you everything, that he couldn’t stand even the suggestion that he sleep with someone else when you consume him. Good sense be damned. What was the point of being human if he had to live like this?

But he came home to find the apartment dark, your bedroom door shut. He listened there before opening it ajar to see you sleeping peacefully. Reality sunk in, fast and hard. A confession could ruin everything. His home, the only family he knew, the people he loved. He couldn’t risk losing you.

If he woke you, he’d have you face the question you’d just asked so he’d curled up under the throw blanket on the couch, as he had so many times before.

“I won't make a braggart of myself,” he says, sidestepping the question.

You roll your eyes and head back to your bedroom in a hurry.

Ezra’s shoulders sag with a deep sigh.

Sunday morning in the shop is slower than usual. It’s maddening, leaving you with too much time to meditate on your sorrows as you hide behind the cash register. Every time your eyes land on Ezra, you’re treated to fresh torment. For some reason you can’t stop picturing him fucking her doggy style with wild thrusts of his hips.

“Tea, dear?” Margot asks. Her rings tink against a spoon as she stirs honey into her tea cup. Mint and ginger fills your nostrils.

You merely grunt in reply but hear her setting another cup out for you. There’s a clink of porcelain and Margot clicks her tongue.

“Your bad mood is sullying the energy in here,” she tuts.

You turn to find her wicking spilled tea off of her hand.

“I’m not in a bad mood,” you say too quickly.

What kind of mood are you supposed to be in when you realize you’re in love with your best friend who was, until recently, a cat, and said friend spent the night with another woman? When there’s a chance that this was all for naught when the Elders find out and turn you into a newt?

Margot scoffs and lights a stick of palo santo, wafting its smoke in your direction.

“You’d better not bring that energy into the full moon,” she says. “I don’t need to feel all mopey for the next fortnight.”

You cross your arms.

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask. Margot’s been welcoming to Ezra but you still feel her ambivalence towards you. It hangs in the air the same as your sour aura.

“Mad at you,” she repeats, pouring another cup of tea. “Why? Because you implicated me and Percy in a crime that I’m concealing from the Elders? I should be, shouldn’t I?”

You sink deeper into your frown. Margot hands you the teacup.

“But I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Besides whatever bee is in your bonnet today,” she adds with an arched brow. “And that’s made me very happy.”

You look at her, your lip quivering. Margot’s been there for you longer than Ezra, taught you everything you know about magic and given you an unconditional love you can hardly fathom even in adulthood. You nearly spill your tea again, setting it aside so you can throw your arms around her.

She stumbles backwards with an “Oof” and chuckles into your ear. Her open palm warms your back.

“It’s all in the stars,” she says.

And, right now, you have to believe she’s right.

Through the long sleeves of your velvet dress, you feel the chill in the air. It’s much colder than the last time you were in these woods for the solstice. Of course, this is a much different kind of celebration. The fire is smaller, there’s less paraphernalia involved. It’s just the four of you— you and Ezra, Margot and Percy— but it feels more joyful.

Margot leads you in a ritual to draw down the moon, then sets out an ornate jar of water to charge in its light. You and Ezra help her cast some spells. She swears the ones done under a full moon have the strongest effect.

But mostly the night is for merry making. There’s wine and incense and apple cider caramels. Margot perches on a tree stump and plays a few songs on her concertina and Ezra insists that you dance with him.

You do, putting your hands into his and letting him spin you in circles. Margot’s words ring in your ears. You can be happy that he’s happy even if it makes your heart ache. At least now, safe from the rest of the world, hands clasped together, you can pretend.

Ezra looks so handsome in his new robes, you almost wonder if there’s an enchantment on them. The white patch in his hair glows as if the moon came down and kissed him on the forehead. His cheeks are pink and he’s as breathless as you.

You’re both laughing when the music ends and you let your hand stay in Ezra’s for a while, wanting the fantasy to last just a little bit longer.

“Now I must insist on a dance with you,” he says to Margot. He holds out a hand to her but doesn’t let go of yours yet.

“I’m playing the music!” she says.

“There must be an incantation that will make that squeezebox play itself,” he says and he slips from your grip to pull her to her feet.

Percy scrambles off of her lap and hops onto your knee as you flop down on the ground.

“I’ll sing!” you say.

“Goodness no!” Margot says.

You all laugh and Ezra releases her after a few twirls.

Since it’s his party, Ezra takes the liberty of sharing his favorite stories. He sits beside you on the ground, animatedly narrating his wildest adventures. You’re pretty sure half of them are pure fabrication but he’s having so much fun recounting them, you don’t question even the most outlandish of details. The fire warms your face. Though, considering how it’s dying down, it could just be his glow. Ezra loves being at the center of attention and you wonder the last time he had the chance to command so much of it. He hasn’t stopped smiling since the sun set, that gorgeous dimple growing deeper with each hour. You love seeing him like this, full of excitement and life.

Eventually, the moon hangs full overhead and Percy curls up to sleep on Margot’s shoulder. The crackle of the fire slows and you throw your head back to look at the sky dotted with so many twinkling stars. For the first time since Ezra left for his date, you feel peaceful. He’s quiet now and you try to catch another glimpse of him in the dark only to find his dark eyes shining at you. He smiles tenderly, and your whole body warms with affection. You can almost believe it’s a look of longing.

Margot slaps her hands against her thighs and stands, breaking your gaze.

“Well, I’d better go before I turn into a pumpkin,” she says.

“Oh, come on. It’s early,” you say.

“We’ll brew you something to wake you in the morning,” Ezra offers.

“That’s alright. Enjoy,” she says. Before she heads back into the trees, she takes Ezra’s hand and gives it a squeeze and pats you on the shoulder.

You’re quiet for a long time, watching the fire die down. It comes back to you, slowly at first, then a flood of emotion, the uncertainty of your future. This night has been a gift but, one way or another, you’re destined to lose Ezra. There’s a melancholy look on his face that hints he might be thinking about the same things.

“Should we retire then?” he asks after a sigh.

“Wait. I want to give you something,” you say. Margot arranged this whole evening and you feel like you’ve shown up to a party empty handed.

“You’ve given more than enough.”

“Well, apparently I’ve been putting off really bad vibes. So a protection spell.” You rise to your feet.

Ezra pulls himself up with your help and this time you don’t allow him to let go. You take both of his hands in yours, his rough fingers entwined in your own, and he watches you, with a fond curiosity on his face. He flusters you. His gaze is so intense, you have a hard time meeting his eye.

“Okay,” you say, shaking out your limbs.

Magic tingles where your palms meet and you notice that his thumb traces yours gently. Having spent the night before without him seems to double the intimacy of the moment. He looks downright beautiful like this, the angles of his face outlined in fire and moonlight. It’s almost unbearable.

“Ezra,” you start.

His lips part at the sound of his name.

“I protect you with my magic and my spirit,” you say.

He can surely feel it surrounding him like an embrace. It’s so intense, you can barely fill your lungs. His eyes are so soft, round and sweet. They glisten in the darkness.

“And my heart,” you add, your voice breaking.

You put your palm against his cheek, the pad of your thumb tracing the hairline scar there, to seal the spell and he takes in a sharp little gasp at your touch. There’s a look in his eye, beseeching, and you feel the tug of his magic, drawing you in closer like a knot tightening between you. It’s a whisper, so faint you’re probably imagining it, but you follow it to him, to his lips.

Before you even realize it, you’re kissing him. Tender and aching and it feels like relief to have his mouth on yours, to taste the wine on his tongue. His lips are soft and hesitant. Your body molds against him, it always does. You’ve been in his arms so many times before and yet it’s never felt more right than this very moment.

Except that it’s wrong. There are all of those reasons why this can’t be, how awkward it will be when he stops you, when he goes back to sleeping on the couch. Suddenly you’re pulling away despite your body screaming for you to do anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I shouldn’t have– Shit!” You swallow down a lump in your throat.

Ezra holds you firm by your elbows, pulling your hand away from your lips and shaking his head.

“Little mage, I have wanted nothing more for longer than you can know,” he says, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

You stare at him, wide eyed, mouth agape, trying to make sense of his words. Your heart flips and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

And then he kisses you again and again and again.

🐈‍⬛

Comments and reblogs appreciated! Asks always open! I'd love to hear from you!

#ezra #ezra prospect #nine lives #ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #familiar!ezra x witch!reader #witch!ezra #prospect fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic

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joequiinn · 5 months ago

Text

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Warnings & Notes | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

Author's Notes | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!

WC | 10.3k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“The way you walked was thorny…”

August 1900

The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.

Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.

When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.

“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.

“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.

“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”

You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”

Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.

“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”

Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.

“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.

“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”

You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.

You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”

With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”

“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”

Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”

You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.

“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.

“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.

“And you have?”

The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”

You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.

“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.

He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.

“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.

All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.

But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.

The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.

That is, until you finally saw it.

Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.

The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.

But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.

You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.

You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.

Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.

“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”

Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.

Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.

Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.

“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.

“Me?”

“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.

Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.

“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.

Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.

The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.

Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.

“Eddie…?”

He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.

Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.

“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”

Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.

Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.

But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.

“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.

The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.

“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.

Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.

Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”

He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”

You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.

“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.

“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.

“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.

“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?

Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.

But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.

You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.

When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.

He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.

Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.

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September 1916

Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.

Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.

He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together.

The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.

Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.

They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.

When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.

That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.

And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.

Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.

As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.

The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.

The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.

Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.

With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.

The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.

With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.

So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.

The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.

So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.

Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.

When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.

Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”

Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.

“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.

Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.

Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.

Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.

“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.

“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”

Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”

Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”

Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”

That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”

Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.

Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”

Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn’t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.

“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”

Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.

“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.

“And Munson?”

That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”

Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”

Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”

Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”

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Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.

Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.

Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.

As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.

The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.

The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--

The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.

Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.

Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.

You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.

But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.

Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.

As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.

His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.

Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.

Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.

“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.

“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.

“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.

There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.

But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.

Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…

“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.

Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.

“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”

You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”

Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”

You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”

Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.

“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.

“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.

He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”

You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”

“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.

And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.

Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.

You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.

Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”

You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”

Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”

You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.

He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.

It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?

He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.

Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.

Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.

You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”

Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”

You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.

Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”

It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.

“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.

“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.

You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.

[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]

addt. AN | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥

taglist | @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson @duncanhillscoffeecups

@eddiernunson @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur @lavendermunson @littlexdeaths

@marlena-marlena @mmmunson @skrzydlak @tenthmoon

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em #when the wolfsbane blooms

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dark-fics-4-you · 1 year ago

Note

possible rafe request?! rafes gf makes him mad by being too friendly at an event w wards business partners so he fucks her at the event 😈

Golden Boy

Warnings: domestic violence, noncon, toxic relationship, jealousy,

You chuckled politely, trying not to glare at the thirty-something year old man in front of you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but put a little venom in your reply, “Well, I actually do have plans outside of my boyfriend. I’m going to college right now, and I’m actually in a paid internship that I got before Rafe and I met.”

The somewhat handsome, but definitely too old to be your type, business partner, whose name you had already forgotten, gave you an annoyed look, not expecting you to respond that way to his poorly hidden dig at you not belonging at this event.

It was true, in some ways. You were far from your side of the island, and no matter how much time you put into your make up and hair or the price tags of the many expensive clothes Rafe had bought you, the Kooks could always sniff out the people who grew up with nothing.

Before he could respond though, you heard your name being called from behind. Peering past the man in front of you, you could see your boyfriend waving at you to come over to him.

You didn’t even bother telling the asshole in front of you that you were exiting the conversation, you just did, quickly returning to Rafe’s side.

“Ugh perfect timing, that guy I was just talking to was a total jerk,” you whispered in his ear as you gave him a hug.

“Baby, didn’t I tell you to try to get along with these guys?” He seemed angry and you could tell that this event was already stressing him out a lot. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides and everything about him was somewhat jittery, like he wasn’t in his right mind.

“I mean, you know I need to look good in front of them while my Dad’s watching. It means a lot to him.” You looked into his eyes at his words and noticed two things. One, Rafe said it meant a lot to his dad, but you knew it was more about how how much it meant to him. And two, his pupils were much wider than they should have been.

Rafe had obviously done some coke before tonight, trying to calm his nerves and give him some confidence, but it was only doing the opposite.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you look bad, but I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t defend myself in front of the people here who are looking down on me.” You shot back at him, annoyed for more reasons than one. “I’m being polite to them, but it would probably be easier for me if you were by my side to stop them from being so rude to me.”

You lowered your voice before speaking again, “And also… I don’t think you should be doing so much coke right now.”

Rafe’s burning glare alone was enough to make you regret saying anything, the return of his tight grip on your arm was just a sick formality at this point, reminding you of the previous bruise he had left in that same spot that you had to cover with makeup for this event.

After being with your boyfriend for so long, you knew the lengths he would go to when he felt personally wronged.

You learned very early on that Rafe was never one to hold back on his verbal abuse, and his physical abuse was no different, although he always tried to keep both incredibly private due to the damage that could come to the Cameron name if it ever came out that Ward’s son, the golden boy, was hitting his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, Rafe. I just care for you, that’s all. I promise I’ll be polite to your dad’s friends.” Your meager apology seemed to be good enough for the moment, and your boyfriend gave you a silent nod after staring at you for several unnerving seconds.

“Be polite, don’t share your opinion, and just keep your mouth shut for the most part. Let them talk about themselves, and they’ll probably think it was the best conversation they’ve had all day.” Rafe grumbled, but his mood improved when he tilted your head up, pressing his lips to yours, large hand still resting under your chin. You kissed him back for what you thought was an appropriate amount of time, but when you tried to pull away, he held you in place, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you to kiss him back.

By the time he released you, you pulled away to see several people staring at the two of you, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Rafe was always doing things like that in public when he felt like other men were threatening your relationship, he always needed to prove himself and stake his claim on you. Let everyone there know that you belonged to him.

“Remember what I said sweetheart. Just try to act like you belong here.” He smirked at his obvious jab at the very thing you felt the most self conscious about right now, before he calmly turned heel, approaching another group of stuffy, rich assholes across the large room.

Your huff of frustration must have been loud enough to be heard by someone standing near you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

To your surprise, when you turned around you were greeted by a man who looked to be about your age.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He held out his hand, which you grabbed, giving him a firm handshake, just like Rafe had taught you.

“Yes I am, although I’m not quite sure if we have met before?” You lightheartedly responded.

“Ah, my apologies, you haven’t, I’m James, I work with your boyfriend at Cameron Development. He’s honestly a blast,” the man, James apparently, chuckled as he recalled several stories of work assignments with Rafe. This led to the two of you exchanging several funny work and college tales.

Despite never having met James before, you felt an instant chemistry with him, nothing romantic at all, of course, but you found him very easy to talk to, and to your surprise, after glancing at your watch, you realized that the two of you had been chatting for nearly 25 minutes!

At this realization, your blood instantly ran cold. Where was Rafe? Why hadn’t he checked on you? Had he seen you talking to the same guy for nearly half an hour, clearly enjoying yourself the entire conversation?

As if he could tell that you were thinking of him, Rafe suddenly appeared several yards away from where your conversation with James was taking place. There was a scowl on his face, and you could tell by the way he was advancing on you that he was pissed.

“Hey, Y/N, why don’t I give you my number, just so you have it?” James innocently asked, completely unaware of the anxiety coursing through your veins and the fact that your boyfriend was in earshot, pushing through the small crowd behind him to reach you.

Before you could even open your mouth to politely decline, Rafe was speaking for you, “She’s not interested.”

You didn’t have time to say goodbye, because your boyfriend was dragging you away from your new friend, his grip harshly digging in to your bruised arm.

“What the fuck did I tell you, Y/N?” His voice was even and calculated, but he couldn’t hide the rage simmering beneath the surface.

“You told me to-”

“I told you to get along with them, not to try to get into their pants.” Rafe growled, pushing you into the closest room with a door he could find, which happened to be Ward’s office. You landed on the carpeted floor, wincing in pain when your elbow absorbed most of the fall.

“Rafe, I promise, I was just having a good conversation.” Your voice was beginning to waver, the weight of the situation that you had found yourself in was beginning to sink in. “He’s your coworker, is it so wrong that I talked to him?”

“Stop lying! I know what I saw! You would have to be an idiot to not realize that he’s trying to fuck you too.” You would have been worried that someone could hear your boyfriend berating you, had it not been for the music playing throughout the house, and the thick walls of Ward’s study.

You realized how sad it was that you only knew that because Rafe had now loudly hurled insults at you in every room in the house he could at this point.

The blond stalked towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you upright. “I mean, did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You think that little of me, Y/N?”

“Rafe no, I-”

You felt the air in your lungs disappear as your head snapped to the side, a sharp pain in your cheek blossoming across the now reddened skin.

“You don’t get to talk back to me right now!” Your boyfriend yelled in your face. You had barely processed his slap when you felt him moving you again, although now you felt much more numb.

Numb to Rafe roughly manhandling you before he bent you over his father’s desk, numb to the feeling of the cold, hard wood on your face as Rafe held you down, numb to the feeling of him pushing your fancy dress up and rudely yanking down your panties before harshly pushing two fingers inside you, and numb to the tears that were now spilling onto Ward’s desk.

“Such a fucking slut! You’re soaked,” he darkly chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his voice. “Is this all for me, or is it for James?” He bitterly wondered aloud, and when you didn’t give him a response fast enough, you cried out at the feeling of him smacking your ass.

“F-for you, Rafe,” you choked out through your tears.

You could hear him removing his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor was enough to trigger your body to begin quaking with fear and anxiety.

“Aw baby,” he cooed, and you flinched when you felt his fingers in your hair, lightly brushing some of it out of your eyes so he could look at you. “Don’t act so scared. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Well, at least, not until after the party’s over.”

His laughter made you feel sick, but even worse was the shock you felt when Rafe spread your pussy and sheathed himself inside of you without warning.

You saw stars for a few moments, the surprise catching you off guard and he was able to slide deeper into your tight walls.

“Rafe!” You gasped, unable to fight back, as your arms were pinned beneath you, and your boyfriend’s large chest prevented you from moving.

His fingers tangled into your hair, gripping a handful tightly as he pushed your face into the desk. His hips were snapping against your ass, fucking you harder whenever you futilely tried to break from his hold.

Every time you tried to escape mentally, to tear yourself from the reality of what your boyfriend was doing to you, he brought you back, snapping his fingers or groaning your name into your ear as he forced himself deeper into your wet cunt.

You were sure that your hips would be bruised from bumping into Ward’s desk as Rafe fucked you against your will. Another reminder of all the lessons he insisted that he had to teach you by force.

Every sharp thrust was a warning that this was him holding back. This was him being nice. And you knew better than to further aggravate Rafe when he was on a power trip.

And that was exactly what this was all about. The power and privilege that Rafe held over you, that he used to hurt you time and time again, without ever facing any real consequences. This was about reminding you that you belonged to him and at the end of the day, Rafe Cameron was untouchable and unstoppable, the Kook King, the golden boy of one of the richest families in the Outer Banks.

“You are my girlfriend, Y/N,” Rafe growled. “It’s time you started fucking acting like it.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron noncon #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Text

let me rip you out of your comfort zone for a moment.

we all know john b to be the calm, patient, comforting daddy— and we love him that way. he’s our safety, a net that catches you when you fall. but, i would be doing you a disservice if i didn’t remind you of the rare but existing side to him that’s a little rougher. a little scarier. think back to when he snuck into tannyhill to supposedly kill ward, and came into sarah’s room with a gun and got all mean and in her face before dragging her outside. that john b.

think season one john b, pre sarah — a little troublesome, sarcastic, always at parties with a girl hanging off his arm, flirts with you by being a little mean.

so with this version of him in mind, let me introduce you to toxicex!johnb.

he’s always teasing you in public, making little jabs at you for the choices you’ve made, following you around the grocery store to banter with you until you’re pouting (when really, he just wanted to follow you around because he’s still madly in love with you.) leaves you with his own smile each and every time, humming out a “nice to see you, sweetheart.” which makes you roll your eyes and simultaneously wanna fuck him just one more time.

he purposely flirts with girls at parties in your line of vision, but it doesn’t sting too much because his eyes are on you the whole time— wide and puppy like when he sees you all over that kook you’ve been seen hanging with. it just makes him madder at you.

but the ending is inevitable each time, you wind up in tears on the doorstep to the chateau, sniffling about how no one can get you off like he could and you need him to put you in your place. just one more time, you beg— and he smiles all understanding and sweet knowing it won’t be.

“was waiting for you to show up. come on in, sweetheart.”

he knows what you need. he needs to put you in that mushy, brainless spot that no guy knows how to invoke. that’s why he’s got you kneeling between his legs on the couch, giving you soft little slaps to your cheek as you whine like the little puppy dog he remembered you to be.

“yeaaah, that was a good one, wasn’t it? got you good there.” he grins, thumbing at the sore skin. “c’mon, sweet girl. another one. yooou can take it. that’s my big girl.” when he smacks you once more.

the dick is phenomenal, way bigger than anyone else you try to replace him with. he’s even kind enough to let you sleep with him in his bed, just for old time sake — but as soon as you wake up you’re shoving your clothes back on. leaving his sleeping body in the sheets.

if you’d only stayed until he woke up, he would have asked you if you wanted to try things again. oh well, he was certain you’d be back soon.

#john b prompt #toxicex!johnb

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jksarchives · 6 months ago

Text

THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP │04

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

➪ WC; 4.6k

✎ series masterlist

4. DEPRESSION

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▍9 YEARS AGO — 13 JUNE 2013

The park was quiet, and its usual daytime bustle was replaced by the serene whisper of a gentle breeze through the trees. The night was deep, almost midnight, and the stars shimmered faintly above despite being obstructed by the forming rain clouds, peeking through the canopy of leaves.

You and Jungkook strolled hand in hand along the dimly lit path, your footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath you. You both knew the dangers of walking in the park at such a late hour, and the countless stories of robberies and mishaps weren’t uncommon.

As youngsters who just graduated high school, you have both been warned countless times by worried parents and teachers about the risks. But tonight, those fears seemed distant, almost forgotten. There was a comforting sense of security that came from being together, a mutual trust that warded off the night’s unpredictability.

You weren’t oblivious to the dangers — you simply chose to trust in each other. The park was yours tonight, a private sanctuary where the outside world and its dangers felt far away.

Your hand fit perfectly in his, a connection as familiar as it was comforting. Every so often as you slowly strolled along the path, you would exchange a glance, a smile, or a soft word, basking in the peace of the moment. The world around you was still, the usual worries of the day melting away into the cool night air.

Jungkook looked at you beside him, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern. Your steps were slow, and though you tried to hide it, he could see the fatigue in your eyes. You had been very sick lately, and it had weighed heavily on his heart.

Breaking the silence, he gently squeezed your hand. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with worry.

You didn’t answer immediately. You looked up at him, your eyes warm but tired. Then you nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. You hummed softly in acknowledgment before leaning your head against his shoulder.

As your head came to rest there, he leaned down and placed a soft peck on your head. He felt you relax at his touch, your breathing steady but weak.

For a moment, you both simply walked in silence, savoring the comfort of each other's presence. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer as you continued your slow walk through the park.

For a few minutes you both walked in silence, letting the gentle breeze blow over your faces. You broke the silence by letting out a big sigh, and Jungkook looked at you with a small frown.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m just glad we finally graduated school” you answered and wrapped your arms around his arm.

“It’s like we can finally breathe now” you added.

“No more of Mr Lee’s bullshit” Jungkook giggled, reminding you of your homeroom teacher who you both had and absolutely hated.

You snorted in response, “I hate that baldy, he always found a way to pick on me” you said.

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he threw his head back.

“I think he might have had a crush on you” he teased, nudging you.

You almost instantly elbowed him in the rib and shoved him away.

Jungkook winced in pain as he rubbed the aching area you just elbowed him, but the glint of mischief was still there as he laughed at you staring at him with horrified and disgusted eyes.

“Eww hell no! He’s like, what? Forty-years-old?” you almost gagged.

“Baby I’m just kidding” he lightly giggled as he pulled you in by the waist, and you smacked him in the shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

After a minute of silence, he snaked his hand around yours and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I love you” he said, lightly pressing his lips against the side of your head.

You smiled, feeling your heart warm up at his tender touch. Giving his hand a light squeeze, you removed your hand out of his hold and wrapped them around his waist.

“I love you too” you said back.

You both continued to walk in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence without the need for words.

And after a few minutes, you approached a bench beneath a large oak tree, its branches stretching out like protective arms from the light droplets of rain that were starting to fall.

You sighed in relief as you wiggled your aching ankles, and the sage coloured crocs you were wearing allowed the cool night air to soothe your tired feet. You hadn’t realised how much they ached until you finally stopped walking. You leaned back against the wooden bench and let out another sigh of relief.

Jungkook, however, seemed lost in his thoughts. He was fidgeting with something in the pocket of his sweatpants, his fingers nervously moving in and out of the fabric. His gaze was focused on the ground, his lips drawn into a tight line as if he were chewing on words he couldn't quite bring himself to say.

You noticed. With the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, and how he kept nibbling on his lips, it was a telltale sign that he was nervous about something.

You reached out and placed your hand gently on his knee, “are you okay Jungkook?” you asked worriedly.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and unsure. For a moment, he hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words.

Then, with a shaky breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a small velvet box. The sight of it made your eyes widen and your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle at the look on your face, “don’t worry, I’m not proposing to you — yet” he said.

“I...I wanted to give you this,” he began.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, a simple band with a small, shining stone set in the center.

“It's a promise ring. I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have something...something that shows how much you mean to me” his voice was almost a whisper.

Your eyes softened as you looked at the ring, then back up at him. You could see how nervous he was, how much this moment meant to him. The rain continued to fall around you, a light drizzle that only added to the intimacy of the moment.

Jungkook took the ring from the box and slipped it onto your finger. It fit perfectly. A smile spread across your face as you looked back at him with your heart swelling with love.

“It's beautiful” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

“Thank you” you added in the end.

Jungkook let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing as relief washed over him.

“I just wanted you to know that I'm serious about us. I want to be with you, no matter what” he told you.

Taking your hands in his large ones, his deep and earnest eyes met yours.

“I love you, Y/n” he said softly.

“You’re everything to me. When I look into my future, all I see is you — us, together. I want you to know that I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to stand by you no matter what life throws our way”

The rain picked up, the sound of it on the leaves growing louder, but his words cut through it all.

“Even through the toughest storms, I’ll be here, right by your side. Forever”

Your eyes watered with unshed tears, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer. They began to spill over as they left a warm trail down your cheeks. Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, but the words were lost in the swell of emotions.

Even though you have been together a little over a year, you knew Jungkook’s love was genuine. You knew he was true to his words when he said he loved you, and he was never ashamed to prove it.

Without saying a word, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as. You held him close, tightening your hold and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too Jungkook” your voice was muffled against his neck, but Jungkook heard it loud and clear.

“I love you the most, princess” he smiled, hugging your waist protectively.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍PRESENT

You found it difficult to digest the fact that the memory was of ten years ago.

And now, here you sat quietly on the couch with your knees drawn tightly to your chest, as if by compressing your body you could contain the storm raging inside you. Your chin rested on top of your knees, a position you had found yourself in often over the past few days.

Your hair was a tangled mess, strands falling limply around your face, a sign of how little you had cared for yourself lately. It was clear you hadn’t run a comb through it in days, maybe longer.

Your eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now bloodshot from hours of crying, the whites tinged with red like an ominous warning light. The tears had dried up for now, but they had left their mark, leaving your eyes hollow and rimmed with dark circles.

Your face was ghostly pale, drained of all color as if life had been sucked out of you. The paleness only accentuated the deep sadness carved into your features — a sadness that seemed far too heavy for someone so young.

You stared down at the small, silver ring on your finger, the one you hadn’t removed in the ten years since he had slipped it onto your hand.

It had once been a symbol of hope, of a future you were supposed to build together. Now, it was a relic of promises that had been shattered, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off.

You hadn’t moved from that spot for hours. Time had lost its meaning. The ring, once a comfort, now felt like a shackle, but still, you couldn’t remove it.

Taking it off would mean acknowledging that it was truly over, and you weren’t ready for that.

Not yet.

So, you just sat there, staring at it, as if by doing so you could somehow go back to a time when the promises it represented were still intact, and the world hadn’t yet fallen apart around you.

You could only laugh at your sheer twist of fate.

Jungkook always had a way of making you feel like the center of the universe, as if the stars themselves shone only for you.

You remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften when he spoke to you.

He had promised you the world. He had promised you forever.

“You’re the only girl I’ll ever love,” he had said, his voice filled with conviction that made your heart swell with hope and certainty.

“There will never be anyone else.”

Those words had wrapped around you like a warm blanket, shielding you from the cold reality of the world.

He made you believe you were special, that you were different from anyone he had ever known. In his eyes, you were irreplaceable, unique, the love of his life.

But now, those words feel like daggers, stabbing into your chest with a pain that was almost physical. The man who had vowed to love you, who had sworn that no one could ever take your place, had broken your heart in the cruelest way.

He had moved on, found someone else, and left you behind in the aftermath of confusion and sorrow. The promises he made, the dreams you both built together, all shattered like fragile glass, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You remembered how he used to call you late at night, just to hear your voice before he fell asleep.

How he would text you good morning every day without fail, making you feel like you were the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

How he would hold you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, convincing you that your love was unbreakable.

He had painted you the most beautiful art of love and trust around her, making you believe in a future that was never meant to be.

Now, that art was disintegrating, thread by painful decay.

No matter how much you tried to wrap your head around trying to understand what exactly went wrong in your relationship, there was no clear answer. There was no moment of revelation that explained why he abandoned you, why he chose to love someone else.

The nights are the hardest. When the world was quiet and still, your thoughts raced, taking you to dark places you never imagined you would go.

You sunk into your couch and laid your head back. You stared at the ceiling, the silence oppressive and suffocating. You thought of all the things you should have said, all the things you should have done differently.

Maybe if you had been more understanding, more patient, more loving, he would have stayed. Maybe if you had fought harder, he would still be yours

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t your fault.

You gave him everything you had, every part of your heart and soul. You loved him with a depth and intensity that you didn’t know you were capable of. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t true to his words. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.

You had believed you were special to him, that your love was something rare and precious. But now you felt ordinary, replaceable, just another girl who fell for a boy who didn’t love her as much as he claimed.

The thought was almost unbearable.

How could you have been so naive? How could you have let yourself believe that you were the one for him, when he was never truly yours to begin with?

The silence surrounding you was broken by your raw, aching sobs.

You shut your eyes and let the tears flow freely. You felt like you were drowning in your own sorrow, unable to escape the pull of the memories that dragged you down.

His face flashed before your eyes, his smile, his touch, the way he used to look at you. It was all so vivid, so real, that it almost felt like he was still there with you. But he wasn’t. He was gone, and so was the love he had promised.

You gave him your everything, but in the end, it had all been for nothing.

He had walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t seem to put those pieces back together. They were jagged, incomplete, and no amount of tears could make them whole again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was almost six in the evening, and you couldn’t be bothered to deal with anything or anyone right now.

So you ignored it at first, burying your face deeper into the pillow, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with your broken heart. Whoever it was, they would leave soon enough, you thought.

But the doorbell rang again. And again. Its insistent tone pierced through your despair, refusing to be ignored.

A part of you was annoyed by the intrusion. Couldn’t you even cry in peace?

With a sigh of defeat, you let the pillow fall from your grasp. You wiped the back of your hand across your tear-streaked face. But it didn’t really matter; your eyes were still red and puffy, and your cheeks still stained with tears.

Dragging yourself off the couch, you shuffled toward the door, your feet heavy with exhaustion. You didn’t care who it was or what they wanted. You just wanted it to stop.

The rational part of your mind told you to check the peephole, to make sure it wasn’t some stranger, but you were too drained to care. If it was an intruder, maybe they would put you out of your misery.

Your life had already been shattered, what more could happen?

You unlocked the door and swung it open without hesitation, almost as if you were defying the universe to do its worst. You were ready to face whatever awaited you on the other side, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that met your eyes.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking against the dim light of the hallway, the cool air from the outside hitting your face like a splash of cold water.

There he was.

Standing on the threshold was the one person you both longed to see and dreaded facing.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat before it started pounding in your chest, a confusing mix of anger, longing, and despair crashing over you.

He looked just the same as he always had, the same messy hair that you used to run your fingers through, the same worn leather jacket you had borrowed so many times, inhaling the scent of him when he wasn’t around.

But now, all of that familiarity was like a knife twisting in your chest, reminding you of what you had lost.

You both stared at each other long with unreadable expressions.

You wanted to slam the door in his face, to scream at him for the hurt he had caused. But you also wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to let him hold you and make the pain go away.

The battle between your heart and mind paralysed you, leaving you breathing through shallow, ragged gasps.

“Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it cut through the fog in your mind.

The sound of your name on his lips made your heart ache, bringing back memories of all the times he had spoken to you with that same softness, that same vulnerability.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over once more. “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask sternly, but your voice trembled and betrayed you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, and he closed it again, looking down at the floor as if searching for the right thing to say.

The seconds dragged on, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

What was he doing here? After everything, why had he come back?

You searched his face for answers, for some indication of what he was thinking, what he wanted.

The longer you stared at Jungkook, you could see the guilt written on his face. He looked guilty, almost as if he was regretting everything already.

Was he here to apologize? To ask for forgiveness? Or was this just another cruel twist of fate, a moment meant to shatter what little remained of your heart?

Finally, he raised his head and broke the silence. “I, uh, came to get the rest of my stuff” he said. His voice was low, and almost filled with shame.

And just like that, the tiny spark of hope you clinged on to shattered immediately.

Right.

You felt the ground beneath you give way, your stomach twisting in knots as his words sank in. He wasn't here to apologise, to say he missed you, to ask for another chance. He was here to take away the last remnants of him that were still a part of your life.

You didn’t know what to say to that but just stared at him, while your eyes screamed for him to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Was he just going to take his things and leave?

Was he not going to ask you how you were?

Wasn’t he going to apologise for breaking your heart and shattering your dreams?

Or was he going to act like nothing had happened, as if your love had been a fleeting whim and nothing more?

You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused you. But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in your throat, suffocating you, as you stood there silently staring at him.

Nevertheless, your body moved, giving him space to enter what was once your shared haven.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably before finally stepping inside, brushing past you as if he were a mere visitor in a stranger's home.

Slowly closing the door, you watched him move to your once shared droom. And you couldn’t help but follow behind.

You watched him collecting his things with a detached efficiency that made your stomach churn. He picked up his books, the few clothes he had left behind, and the framed picture of the two of you at the beach — one of your happiest memories.

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked at the photo, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

┄┄┄┄┄

As Jungkook gathered the last of his things in a box, he turned to face you with an unreadable expression. Your heart pounded in your chest, hoping that he would finally say something — anything — to acknowledge what he had done. But all he did was nod, as if that simple gesture could somehow erase the past.

“Well, I guess that’s everything,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You felt a tear escape and trail down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, refusing to let him see how much you were still hurting.

“Is that all you have to say?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had kept bottled up.

Jungkook hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting yours before quickly looking away.

“Y/n, I…I didn’t want to hurt you. But it just… it just happened” he said.

The words hung in the air, as empty and hollow as you felt inside. How could he reduce the end of your relationship to such a meaningless statement? It just happened. As if falling out of love and breaking a promise were nothing more than a simple accident.

“It’s not even about the fact that you fell out of love with me,” you began, your voice cracking in the process.

“It’s the fact that you hid the actual truth and lied to me” you cried.

“I deserved more than this,” you whispered, “I deserved respect, and at least the decency of you being honest. Not this…betrayal”.

You didn’t care how awful you looked crying in front of him, the hurt inside you was too unbearable for you to care.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, Y/n. And I’m sorry. I really am. But there’s nothing more I can say” he said.

The apology felt like a slap in the face, not because it wasn’t sincere, but because it came too late — far too late and too short to mend the broken pieces of your heart. It was like putting a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches.

“Yes Jungkook, there is so much you can say. Starting off by telling me where exactly it all began to go downhill. Or what it is about me that you started to not like anymore that you felt another woman could easily replace me” you cried.

All you received was silence from him as he stared at you with guilt, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes were beginning to gloss, not that he was truly regretting but because he was ashamed of himself. As he should be.

“I deserve a proper explanation, Jungkook. I deserve to know why I wasn’t enough for you even after ten fucking years of being together” you sobbed.

Jungkook took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair once again. He looked like he was struggling with what to say, but you didn’t care. You needed to hear it, even if it would break you all over again.

“It wasn’t about you, Y/n,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was me. I was lost, confused. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me”.

Your anger flared at his words. It felt like an excuse, a way to evade the truth.

“That’s not an answer, Jungkook. You broke my heart, and then you just moved on like I was nothing. Like we were fucking nothing!” you snapped.

Jungkook winced at your words, but he didn’t try to deny them. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his eyes pleading.

“I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But when I met her…everything just clicked. It felt right in a way that I can’t explain. She was always there, especially during all my long and exhausting hours of office work. It wasn’t planned, it just happened, I swear. And I was a coward for not being honest with you” he tried to explain the best he could.

Your face fell at his words, feeling your heart shatter anew. You had loved him so deeply, had given him everything, only to be discarded for someone else, someone who apparently was right for him in a way you never could be.

“And I wasn’t?” you questioned.

"So then what was I, Jungkook?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Just a placeholder until someone better came along?”.

“No,” Jungkook said quickly, his voice filled with regret.

“You were never a placeholder Y/n. I loved you — I still care about you. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the closure you needed. You deserved better than that” he said.

But all you could do was laugh in his face, humourlessly. You couldn’t believe him.

“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have hid the truth from me and then me find out through fucking social media” you snapped.

“Even then you didn’t even have the balls to come forward and be honest with me. You just left me in a dark place questioning everything about myself and how maybe it was my fault for not being enough” you glared at him.

Jungkook stayed glued to the ground and he clenched his fists. He didn’t even know what to say. You had the right to be angry. You deserved honesty from him, a proper closure, even if it meant that it was going to put you in the worst unimaginable pain in the world.

Jungkook reached out as if to touch you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Get out” your words stern but voice soft.

“We’re done, Jungkook. Completely done” you said.

Jungkook flinched at your words, a sharp intake of breath as if your anger and hurt had physically struck him.

He looked at you for a long moment, and you could see the sorrow in his eyes. But you didn’t waver. He wasn’t the victim here.

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping as he bent down to pick up the box.

He gave you one last look before turning and walking towards the door. And as the door closed behind him, you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

You knew it would be a long time before the wounds he left would heal, but you also knew that you would survive this. You had to.

NEXT ➜

#bts #bts jungkook #bts moodboard #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #bts updates #btsedit #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook gif #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook

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largemovingtorb · 1 month ago

Text

Retracing her steps, Catra spotted a bend in the hall, one she had no memory of passing before. With a shake of the head, she braced herself for what this place wanted to show her. Based on what happened last time—being pulled through a mirror by a giant spider—it was most likely going to be bad.

Leaning forward to crane her neck around the corner, Catra found a scene spread out before her. A tableau composed of miserable memories stitched together to form a tapestry—a weave forming a pattern, unmistakable in its design: that of a sad childhood.

Catra saw her unmistakable younger self—a little girl dressed in a red leotard and gray leggings, the knees long torn away from rough play. A mass of stone-gray hair sat upon the head in an unkempt fray, long brown fuzz hanging behind both long black ears. This young version of Catra had not shed her baby fat, and the child clutched with cinnamon hands at her little belly paunch, seeming in pain. Catra’s child self peered up at an imposing figure, a red-robed woman with a crimson mask, the eyes of which were cold and cruel. This was her mother, of course; this was Shadow Weaver. The old witch gazed off in the opposite direction of her ward, contemplating the depths of a gigantic dark crystal in search of more power.

“Shadow Weaver?” Young Catra said. “I don’t feel so good. My tummy hurts,”

The crimson mask did not even bother to turn. “What?”

“My tummy hurts,”

Still not turning, Shadow Weaver waved a hand dismissively. “Why are you telling me? Stop your incessant whining. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

The younger Catra frowned, seeming very confused by this response. “Because you are my mommy,” she said.

Finally, the old witch turned—slowly and with utmost menace. “What did you say? Your what?”

Fear immediately bloomed on the young child’s face, making the older version want to weep. Catra did not need this vision to be reminded of this memory; it was stuck in her heart like a thorn of onyx for all time.

Illustration from my fanfic, Traces of Crimson, the link to which can be found HERE ON AO3

Illustration done on commision from Henar Torinos, a.k.a., @ilikeyoucatradora

#shera #spop #sherafanfiction #she ra fanfic #she ra fanart #catradora #she ra and the princesses of power #catra #she ra fanfiction #she ra and the princess of power icons #tracesofcrimson

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prettygrltatum · 11 months ago

Note

aaaaa simon asking bimbo!reader out??? or like fluffy hcs abt the two n their dynamic 🥹🥹

omg simon asking reader out is making me explode. sorry for the last responce btw lol, I had somethings going down :33 and im tired too lmao

warning: just some guy harrasing tf out of you and just being a dickhead, spelling mistakes

It was simple idea to him. Just walk right up to you and ask you out to dinner or a drink. Maybe even gas you up a bit. Tell you how pretty you are (which you know already) or that your outfit is cute.

But his body was betraying his mind. Amerging from the locker room, he sees little ole you. Or just your hair. All pretty and ready to work out he assumed. Shame he was getting ready to leave.

But a small and weak plea rings and travels through his ear. It was you, your sweet and addictive voice.

"Hey doll, just give me your number! I can give you a good time!" A man, proabarly in his mid life talking you up. Simon creeps behind the corner, eyebrows furrowed and in anger. Only if he could snap his neck right off. He can but what will you think? Think of him as amurdering machine like everyone else?

"The only you're having is in the geriatric ward, fuck off creep." you whined trying to squirm away from his hand. He could just stand by and watch you get treated this way. No. No way.

Simon's hulky foot steps march down the hallways. His grumbled catching the both of yours attention. "Leave the girl alone, she doesn't want you. Get a move on mate." He said, husjky and enrich of a natural Manchester accent.

"Hey leave us alone. I don't need your help buddy." The man bravely snapped back, his smirk wide as he turned back to you. Before Simon could catch life in prison for fucking this guy up, your legs swung at the stranger.

"FUCK!" He hollered. You pulled out your pepper spary and started to bend over him and spary it directly in his eyes. "Yeah fucker you don't like that you old saggy ass bitch!" You cursed. All the while Simon stood there, a bystander you could say.

As the man groaned and cried, you smiled at Simon. "Thank you mister!" Oh the way you said mister too-

"I-I uhm. You're welcome." He mumbled, all his confidence all of a sudden drained. You hand shot at his bicep, squishing and rubbing them. "You must come here often! You're rip mister! No doubt you would have wreck this guy."

Simon wanted to ask so badly, but yet again his body betrayed his mind once more.Why now? You were just too pretty for him. Not even worthy of being by your side even if it was only for a while. But yet-

"Mister, your eyes are very pretty. They remind me of my favorite chocolate bar. Like the wrapper."

Wait huh-

"I wanna take you out on a date with you! As a thank you! I'd go out with you than this wrinkled date here."

Simon just nodded his hand as he let you grabbed squish all over you. Finally his body was in sync with his mind.

#cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #ellie speaks!!#ellie dreams!✎ೃ⁀➷#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #bimbo!reader #fem!reader

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hyperblue · 6 months ago

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‘Baby you need to get some sleep.’ not kon spoke from just over his shoulder, his hallucination was eerily detailed. Right down to the stitching on kons leather jacket, the dimples in his cheeks, the texture of his hair, the way he cared deeply and endlessly. ‘You wont be any good to anyone if you carry on like this, wont be any good to him.’ Tim hummed in acknowledgment.

‘I’ll sleep in a minute, i just wanna watch him for a while.’ He’ll sleep when he’s viable. Tim was currently sat on the floor in front of a large glass tube full of slightly luminous green liquid. Suspended in the middle of the tube was a foetus, soon it would be a baby. Their baby. He just needed to watch it a while longer, just until it was old enough to be viable outside of its growth medium. His son, his half kon half him miracle. ‘What should we call him do you think.’ he turned but not kon had moved, his hallucinations always hovered on the edge of his vision just out of proper sight. Just out of reach. a reminder they were unattainable, a dream.

‘Baby I don’t think anything, I’m not real remember.’ He sighed deep and long.

‘I know, i know you aren’t real just make something up. Tell me what i think he would’ve wanted. Let me pretend we’re doing this together.’ Not kon was stood on the other side of the tube now, image warped by the growth medium. He put his hand on the glass right over their son. ‘Just tell me anything, anything at all.’ He was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of deep sadness, of bitter cold loneliness. All he wanted in this moment was for real kon to tell him what to do, to guide him out of this mess. Not kon would have to do.

‘Well, i like the older all American names. Even though you always found them silly.’ He closed his eyes and huffed out the smallest laugh, this was unfortunately very true. ‘If it was a girl it’d be easy, Wendy Wayne! Wendy Wayne-Kent?’ The laugh was more real this time because not kon (his brain?) was correct. Their daughter would’ve been named for Wendy the werewolf stalker and he would’ve let it happen. Not their son though. He sat quietly for a few minutes just thinking.

‘How about Ward? Old school, American, has some meaning too it, not horrifically long or embarrassing, suits all life stages.’ He tried to look up at not kon but he was back behind him in his peripheral vision. Shame. Not kon nodded.

‘Yeah i think I would’ve liked that, or you think I would’ve liked that whatever. Maybe Edward, ward for short.’ Tim nodded, a sensible name. Something he could grow up with. A small gift he could give to his son.

‘Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne. Big name for such a little thing.’ He put his hand on the cool glass and stroked over where his baby was growing stronger by the minute. ‘Big name big shoes big legacy.’ He felt a phantom touch on his shoulder, there and gone in a second, his brain filling in a gap. But it was enough. Enough to feel like kon was with him. He hoped not kon didn’t know what he planned to do after their son was born, hoped he could be ignorant where tim couldn’t be.

Ward slept peacefully in his car seat where its set on top of a metal table a ways behind him, not kon is hovering over him humming something soothing and quiet. Tim sits down with a couple pieces of printer paper and sets about writing his son a letter. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone for, how long he’ll leave ward with Bruce so he fills the letter with information about himself, information about kon, information about how ward was created. Stories about his daddies he wants his son to know, not battle stories not tales of superheroic glory but dumb inconsequential little memories. Tiny shining pieces of the complexity that was Conner Kent, about how they met, how they fell in love, the short months they got together. He fills ten pieces of paper front and back with memories and love and whatever tiny pieces of wisdom he has to pass on. He signs it off like this.

‘My ward, my miracle, i hope you have never once doubted my love for you. I hope you know the only reason i left you with your grandfather is because I’m very sick right now and wouldn’t be able to keep you safe and happy like he undoubtedly has. I wouldn’t have been able to surround you with family or give you the stability you needed to thrive. One day when I’m better I’ll come back and hopefully you’ll want to know me, but if you don’t i’ll respect your wishes. You are the most perfect, beautiful and impactful thing I’ve ever created. You are my heart outside my body. In my minds eye you are the spitting image of your daddy and whatever you do you’ll be a credit to his legacy, i know this as well as i know anything. Know that i love you now, and i still love you whenever you read this again.

Your father,

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’

He slips the papers into a Manila envelope seals it and addresses it to ward, he writes another much shorter letter which is sealed in a regular envelope addressed to his dad.

‘Bruce,

Im sorry for the stress this surprise and my disappearance will cause you, but i am not sorry for either the surprise or my disappearance. His name is Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne and he is my son, look after him while I’m gone. Im not fit to look after myself right now let alone a baby so i entrust him to you - you kept us all mostly alive and none of us where invulnerable quarter kryptonians. By the time you read this ill be long gone and I’m not coming back until I’m better however long that takes, if he gets old enough to start asking questions give him or read him the letter I left addressed to him.

I know I’m asking a lot but there is no one else i could or would trust with him, he is and i suspect will always be my greatest triumph. Love him, embrace being a grandfather, get Alfred to help you adjust. I hope i will be back soon, i doubt i will be.

Your son,

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’

He slips the Manila envelope, Bruce’s letter, and the birth certificate listing both him and Connor into a bag with some clothes and supplies for ward. It is legitimate if of illegal creation - not that anyone will be able to tell.

Tomorrow he will drop ward off with a very discreet nanny who has been paid through the nose to keep him for three days and then drop him off at wayne manor. Tim has $17,000 last minute round trip first class flights leaving from Newark landing in Bordeaux that he only intends to use one way under the name Manon Alarie, hes got one of his mothers Chanel skirt suits from the 80s - its a black white and grey tartan material with shoulder pads, hes got a cashmere sweater shirt, black stockings, a circle brimmed sort of shallow trilby hat thing to obscure his face, a skinny black leather belt and gloves, a pair of punishing black so Kate’s and enough gold and diamond jewellery that he hopes he can pull off ‘wealthy teenager dressing up in mummies clothes from the 80s to seem older’ well enough that no one will question anything. After he lands in France he will shed manon and adopt someone else. He speaks french well enough maybe he’ll stay there maybe he’ll go somewhere else. He has near unlimited resources from his destruction of the league and all the time in the world.

He wont stay in Bordeaux for long though, he has faith in Bruce’s detective skills to be able to track him to there. But France is large and he is adept at disappearing into the crowd. Oracle will know where he is but he trusts babs to know what he needs to do.

Kal arrives in less than an hour. He’s dressed in a suit and tie and his glasses are askew on his face, he stares at the baby and at the dna readout back and forth again and again for ten minutes. Finally he breaths out a long shuddering breath and slumps into one of the batcomputers desk chairs. ‘Well shit Bruce.’ His sentiments exactly. ‘And he’s definitely kryptonian? for sure kryptonian?’ He’s staring at the dna test again.

‘His overall dna structure is an incredibly close match to kon-el’s and about a 45% match with your’s and other full kryptonians. The stuff that went in is 50/50 from both the parents but the structure is more kryptonian than you would expect. In layman’s terms he got more of kons kryptonian stuff than his human stuff.’ Kal scrubs his hands over his face and sighs.

‘How did no one know about this until the baby showed up, and where the hell is Tim? And what’s the babies name? And how am i supposed to tell my mother.’ The last few words were hissed out as if ma Kent was going to teleport behind them and start berating them for hiding a grand/great grand baby from her affectionate clutches.

‘I currently have little information about the nature of his creation or the wearabouts of my son, you were the first call after i ran his blood work. Had to make sure he was actually Tim’s baby and not just, you know, a random baby.’ Kal nods. ‘Tim left some documents with him, there’s a letter for me and for the baby and a birth certificate thats either real or a very impressive forgery. He’s called Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne but we’re to call him Ward apparently.’ Kal smiled at that.

‘Pa might actually cry when he finds out, i might’ve taken a while to step up with kon but they loved him as soon as they found out about him. They’ve been doing worse than they’re willing to let on to me i think, a great grandbaby is about the best news they’ll have heard all year.’ He reaches out and strokes the sleeping boys downy cheek ‘god hes gonna need a kryptonian name isnt he.’ Bruce nods and clears his throat.

‘Kons not around and it only feels right that a kryptonian does the honours, what do you say grandpa Clark.’ Clark groans and punches his leg a little too hard.

‘Do not call me that grandpa Bruce, yeah see how it feels.’ It feels not good. He feels older than he ever has looking down at this baby, his son’s baby, his grandson. His latest blue eyed black haired boy. Kal thinks for a minute before smiling all teeth. ‘I didn’t do right by your daddy when i named him, but I’m gonna do right by you.’ He puts a single finger into wards hand and shakes it up and down a couple times. ‘Welcome to the house of El Kyn-El. Son of Kon-El son of Kal-El son of Jor-El.’ He turns to Bruce and translates. ‘Kyn has the K like me and Kon and it means gift, Kyn and El he’s a gift from the stars.’ It’s a good name, a beautiful name. He hopes Tim would be ok with Kal giving it to him. He needs to go lie down in a dark room with his grandson.

‘Ok Clark take a picture and tell your mother she can have as many as she wants if shes on call for any baby kryptonian emergencies.’ Clark laughs but does as hes told. Before he leaves though he turns to Bruce one last time.

‘You sure you’ve got this, i could take him or ma and pa could probably if its too much. It wont be easy if hes got powers like kons.’ Bruce nods, solemn and grave - all batman.

‘I need to do this Kal, Tim is. He’s the smartest of us besides Barbara, we wont find him until he wants to be found. Oracle could but she’ll respect his need for distance and wont tell us where he is unless he’s trying to get himself killed. I need to do this for him, for my son, i need him to know his trust in me was not misplaced.’ Clark claps him on the shoulder, gives him a sad little smile, and is gone before he can blink. Ward is an eerily quiet baby, he probably gets that from tim, and he thinks some lying down in the dark time would be fun and beneficial for them both.

Three scenes from a clone baby fic I’ll probably never finish, idk i just wanted to share the burst of inspiration your clone posting gave me x

okay but what if you actually finish it?? pretty please??? 👉👈

the writing is so good, we LOVE tim hallucinating kon, i also love the way you've gone with this, especially tim leaving for the sake of his child (i'm sure nothing would go wrong! there's absolutely no way this decision would backfire later!); i know a lot of clone baby au enjoyers are "tim would NEVER leave his child" truthers but honestly i can definitely see him not breaking the cycle of leaving since, you know. leaving was all he's ever known for his own parents

thank you so much for sharing this, hope you'll find time to finish this fic bc we need ALL the clone baby fics we can get

#dc #dc comics #timkon clone baby au #timkon clone baby #timkon #tim drake #red robin #kon el #superboy #conner kent #batman #bruce wayne

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 5 months ago

Text

Not Dead Yet | Part 02

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Synopsis: After trying to avoid Jeonghan (and the other ghosts) Y/N encounters him on the stairwell and is unable to ignore him anymore.

-> Warnings: Paranormal au. Hints at a possible evil spirit lurking about. Sick child in hospital but doesn't mention the illness, hints at her having been in hospital for a while. Y/N almost cusses a couple times. Hints at Y/N and Jihoon fake dating. This is a work of fiction. In no way does it reflect the guys.

-> Word Count: 2,616

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Y/N walks along the footpath leading to the hospital, she digs through her bag, looking for something she promised one of the kids she visits. When she can't find it, she starts to cuss but stops herself when an elderly lady glares at her as she passes by. She bows in apology before continuing her search.

Just a moment later, Y/N feels a sudden chill run down her spine and turns back to see the woman has completely vanished and is nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, she scans the area, mentally scolding herself for revealing her ability to see ghosts to the old woman. “You would think I would know the difference between the living and dead by now,” she mutters under her breath, ensuring that only her brother on the other end of the call can hear her.

“You chose to volunteer at the hospital,” Seungcheol, chimes in. “You’re surrounded by both the living and the dead there.”

“I’m surrounded by the living and the dead everywhere I go,” she replies, rolling her eyes at his comment. But then, she suddenly exclaims, “Aha!” as she finally finds what she was looking for. It’s a small ballerina doll that used to be hers. She believes it deserves a new home with the little girl she’s befriended through her volunteer work. The little girl loves ballet more than she ever did. “I need to go. Tell Eomma I’ll be there tonight, but if she tries to set me up with one of her friend’s sons again, I’m going to leave and-,” she pauses, an idea coming to her. “Actually, I should bring Jihoon. That might keep her off my back for a while.”

“You brought Jihoon a few months ago,” he reminds her. “Are you going to tell eomma that you’re fake back together?”

“Shi-Yah!” she exclaims, stopping herself from cussing again as the elderly woman from a minute ago suddenly reappears in front of her. “I’ll find someone else to bring,” she quickly says, ending the call before he can respond. She frowns at the lady, taking out her earbuds and placing them back in her bag. The elderly woman says nothing as Y/N moves past her to go inside the hospital. Making her way up to the children’s ward, she keeps her head bowed so she doesn’t make eye contact with any more spirits.

“Jeon Nari, I have a surprise for you,” Y/N calls out as she enters the room where the six-year-old girl is sitting on the hospital bed, colouring in her princess colouring book. She notices that the young girl’s father is with her and greets him politely with a slight bow of her head.

Jeon Wonwoo, Nari's father, looks up from his phone and stands to return her greeting. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, his voice reflecting the worry and exhaustion of a parent who has spent long hours in the hospital with his sick child. “Nari’s been talking about you non-stop since your last visit,” he adds. “She was so excited to learn that you used to do ballet.”

Y/N smiles, her heart warming at the thought of Nari's excitement. It confirmed that she’s making the right choice in passing her once beloved doll down to the sweet little girl. “Well, speaking of ballet,” she says, pulling the ballerina doll with a pink tutu from behind her back and holding it out towards her. “I thought you might like this.”

Nari’s eyes widen in excitement, her colouring book momentarily forgotten as Y/N passes the doll to her. “Wow! She’s so pretty!” Nari exclaims as a large smile makes its way onto her face.

“Will you promise to take good care of her for me?” Y/N asks, her smile mirroring Nari's as she sits down across from her, her heart swelling with affection for the little girl. However, her smile dims as an unsettling chill fills the room. She senses a presence lingering in the doorway, and for a brief moment, it feels as if time has frozen.

The atmosphere shifts, the warmth of the moment dissipating as Y/N's gaze drifts toward the entrance. A figure stands there, half-hidden in the shadow. The air grows thick with an unspoken tension, and Y/N's heart races as she tries to decipher the emotions swirling around her.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing her back to reality. He gazes at her with worry. “Are you okay?”

She manages a smile, though it doesn’t fully reach her eyes, and nods. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay for long today,” she says, causing Nari to pout. Unbeknownst to Y/N, her visits have become one of Nari’s favourite parts about being in the hospital. “Since it's my day off from work tomorrow, I’ll be here much earlier than usual. You’ll be the first person I’ll come and see.”

"You promise?" Nari asks, her expression a mix of hope and excitement as she holds up her tiny pinkie finger.

"I promise," Y/N replies with a smile, linking her pinkie with Nari's and pressing their thumbs together, sealing their promise. The gesture brings a comforting warmth back into the room, yet an unsettling feeling still lingers in the air. Looking towards the doorway, she sees that the figure is no longer there. Trying to shake off the feeling, she turns her attention back on Nari. “I should get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

After saying her goodbyes, she exits the room, the unsettling feeling following her as she walks down the corridor and exits the children's ward. The air around her starts to feel almost suffocating so she chooses to take the stairs instead of the confined unescapable space of the elevator. As she descends the stairwell, the unease turns into feeling of being followed, the presence heavy, dark and ominous. Half expecting to find the figure from the doorway, she looks behind her only to find no one there, living or dead. With her heart pounding against her chest and her footsteps echoing in her ears, she quickens her pace and reaches the next landing. There she stops for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself, her eyes never leave the stairs she just descended, wary of any spirit that might choose to show itself.

After a brief moment, she braves herself and turns to continue her walk down the stairs, but just as she does, a sudden fright nearly sends her tumbling backward. A scream escapes her lips as another presence makes itself known, breaking the suffocating ominous feeling in an instant.

"I knew you could see me!" he exclaims, his voice echoing off the walls. His eyes gleam with a wild intensity, a mixture of mischief and something deeper. "You can't pretend anymore."

“What is with you ghosts sneaking up on me today,” she groans with a frown on her face.

“I’m not a ghost,” the man insists.

“I hate to break it to you, but you are a ghost,” she informs him, her voice tinged with exasperation. “That is why I can see you while no one else can.”

“But I’m not dead,” he counters, frustration clear in his voice.

“Yes, you are,” she replies, her gaze flicking nervously to the door off to the side, hoping no one decides to walk into the stairwell at that moment.

“I’m not!” he argues, reaching for her wrist, only for his hand to pass right through her. He tries again, with the same result.

Each time he does it, it sends a chill through Y/N’s body. “Would you stop?” she scolds him moving her wrist away.

“I’m trying to show you that I’m not dead,” he growls as the fluorescent lights above them begin to flicker, his frustration and anger boiling over. He’d spent the week trying to get her attention, unable to communicate with anyone else. “Just... come with me.” His voice softens, a hint of vulnerability breaking through as he almost sounds like he’s pleading. “You have to believe me.”

With that he turns on his heal, walking through the door. Y/N hesitates for a moment but there is something within that compels her to follow him. Her curiosity piqued; she walks closer to the door. Pushing the door open, she steps into a brightly lit corridor with an intensive care unit sign hanging from the ceiling.

Y/N's heart races once again as she takes in the scene, her breath hitching in her throat. The ghosts are everywhere, some with solid forms, others with translucent forms flickering in and out of focus, some hover near the doors of the patients rooms, their expressions a haunting blend of hope and despair and others drift aimlessly, looking at nothing in particular.

The distant beeping of machines and the soft murmur of voices fills her ears as she searches for the man that led her this way. She finally spots him standing before the automatic glass doors of the unit.

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out her earbuds, sticking them into her ears and keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact with the other ghosts as she makes her way over to him. "I can't go inside," she tells him.

"I'm right there," he says pointing to one of the cubicles at the back of the room. She can just make out the end of the bed, but she can't confirm if it’s really him.

“If you’re not dead, how can I see you?” she asks, more to herself than him.

"How should I know?" he replies anyway. "You see the others, right?"

"But they’re already dead," she answers.

"How can you be so certain?" he asks out of curiosity.

"You think there’s someone in there in a coma from the Joseon Dynasty era?" she says, motioning towards the woman at the end of the hall, her face etched with worry. "I bet she’s here because she’s watching over someone in there. You’d be surprised how many ancestors show up to welcome their family member into the afterlife. It makes it less scary to cross over into that dimension." She pauses, her gaze drifting back to the woman, who stands with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "It’s like a welcoming committee," she continues. "They reassure them that they’re not alone and guide them over. It’s a beautiful thing, really.”

His gaze turns to the woman, "So, you think that’s what’s happening here? That she’s just waiting for someone to join her so she can welcome them home?"

"It’s that, or she just doesn’t want her ancestor to be alone," she replies, her heart racing with the thrill of her own conviction. "It’s not just about the end of life. She could just be here watching over her entire bloodline, making sure they’re safe and healthy. It’s probably why she looks so worried.”

“I guess you’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, turning his gaze towards her.

“A very long time,” she sighs looking back inside the intensive care unit. “But this has never happened before. I’ve never seen or communicated with someone who’s in limbo.”

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, someone calls out Y/N’s name. Her eyes widen as she turns, pulling her earbuds out. A blush creeps onto her cheeks as she greets the handsome man in a white coat. “Dr. Hong,” she says, bowing her head.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today” he smiles, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter and for a moment the situation she’s found herself in is a distant memory.

“I—uh, I just dropped something off to Nari,” she stammers, feeling a little bashful. Joshua Hong, a doctor who transferred from America, seems to have that effect on anyone he comes across. There’s reason his nickname is the gentleman. He’s kind, polite and respectful to everyone, he doesn’t anger easily even in intense situations, and speaks with a soft, calming voice. He’s also incredibly handsome.

She quickly snaps out of her little trance that she found herself in when the man who isn’t quite a ghost, loudly clears his throat from besides the doctor. Glancing at him, he doesn’t look impressed by the sudden interruption. Quickly looking back at Joshua, she continues “I-I also thought it would be a good time to stop by and see how my friend,” she looks out the corner of her eye at the man before focusing on the doctor again, “is doing.”

“Who’s your friend?” Joshua asks, glancing down at the folders in his hands.

“Uh-” she pauses, her eyes flickering between the doctor and the man she now realises she never got the name of.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” he tells her.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” she repeats and Jeonghan nods with a small triumphant smile. This is his chance to get some more answers.

“I was handed his case this morning,” Joshua informs her. “I can’t really tell you anything but it’s a strange one. Just know that were doing everything we can to figure out what happened and why he won’t wake up.”

“So, you don’t have anything?” she hears Jeonghan ask even though Joshua can’t hear him, the frustration from earlier resurfacing. “This is great,” he scoffs but his voice quickly turns to one of panic. “What if I’m like this forever? I can’t be like this forever.”

“Oh,” she says, her look turning to one of sympathy when she hears the tone in Jeonghan’s voice. “Thank you for doing everything you can do,” she thanks Joshua. “Hopefully he wakes up soon.”

“I hope so, too,” Joshua says reflecting her sympathy. “Well, I should get in there and start my rounds. It was good seeing you.”

“You too,” she says, her heart not fluttering like it usually would when he said the last part. She watches him step inside the unit and make his way to the back of the room where Jeonghan pointed out the bed he was laying in.

“Now you believe me,” he says and all she can do is nod. “Not even the doctors know what’s going on. What hope do I have if you don’t even know what’s going on?” he sighs, sounding defeated. “Maybe it all goes back to that weird guy. He must have done something to me. It’s the only explanation that I have.”

“What weird guy?” she asks, now looking at him.

“There was this weird guy that was leaning against my car, he was talking nonsense, then I passed out when I went to leave and woke up here, like this,” he explains. “He told me the person who can see me will know his name,” he adds looking at her, expectantly.

“I don’t know anyone who would do that,” she tells him.

“He also said something about the Gods,” he says, thinking back to the strange encounter.

“The Gods?” she asks, surprised by his words. “If the God’s are involved, I’m not the person you’re looking for. I just see, feel and communicate with ghosts, that’s it.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not exactly a ghost, am I? Yet, you can still see and talk with me.”

“This- this is way above my pay grade,” she shakes her head, now trying to deny that this was happening. “Not that I get paid for it. I should go. I wish you luck with everything and I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

“You can’t leave-” Jeonghan starts as Y/N begins to walk away at a fast pace, trying her best to put distance between them.

She steps inside the elevator, her eyes connecting with Jeonghan’s desperate ones, one last time before the doors close.

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