#when it was by and far largely loved by almost every other corner of the fanbase

[aetherraeys]

visual learner

poly!marauder x inexperienced!reader ⊹ 5.1k

for this request!

cw ⟢ suggestive, first kisses, nervous!reader, tension, teasing, slightly domestic, newly established relationship, lots of kissing!

being a late-bloomer was never really an issue for you, until you're faced with figuring out how to go about kissing not just one boy, but three.

a/n: yes this is 5000 words of kissing and what? not proofread

If you were to think back, it honestly never bothered you much, you’d come to terms with it quite well—you were a late bloomer.

Sure, it meant that you didn’t have the exact same experiences as most of your peers when growing up, making those late nights in the dorms when the voices of all your friends danced around the room, feet kicking giddily as they shared which boy they’d gone to Hogsmead with that weekend. Or when they detailed the innocent lingering touches and fleeting eye contact they’d made with their crush—in person demonstrations and all. Of course, those nights were fun, playful girls nights, but it more listening than reenacting for you.

Even as you progressed further, graduating and starting univerisity, it didn’t bug you like your friends had assumed it would—’it’ being your lack of experience.

And it wasn’t that you were undesirable, far from it, opportunity isn’t an issue—you just weren’t in a rush. It also didn’t make you any more eager to speed things along after hearing countless disappointing and awkward recounts of your friends experiences.

Quite frankly, it just wasn’t the be-all and end-all of your youth, you had plenty of other things to worry about, plenty of other things that kept your mind comfortably occupied. And you were still young, there was still time for you to play catch-up, if and when you decided you wanted to.

The thing is, you were under the impression had a say in it in the first place—when in reality, the universe had other plans for you.

And those plans?

As it turned out, took form in the shape of three boys.

You’d thought they were a bit strange at orientation, their dynamic an interesting sight to say the least. But it wasn’t very long before you were sucked into their orbit, well and truly in the thick of it—completely out of your depth.

Because you’d yet to have a boyfriend, let alone three, but alas—you found yourself unable to deny them.

Falling into place with them relatively seemlessly, although the boys had been dating long before you came into the picture and have known each other longer, that wasn’t why you kept finding yourself picking at the skin around your nails, knawing at the flesh on the inside of your mouth, frequently lost in deep thought.

Granted, most of this was fairly new.

Welcomed, wanted, loved—you should be perfectly content right now, but there was small looming inkling of something in the back of your mind every time you saw them.

They were so comfortable together, in complete and almost constant harmony with each other—and it was a sight to behold, perfect and cozy as they lounged around Sirius’ thankfully large flat.

Both him and James lying on one end of the settee, tangled together in an obsure pile of limbs. Sirius had his hands underneath James’ shirt—baring the bottom of his stomach and pretty brown happy trail out in the open, fingers tracing soft and small patterns onto his skin. James’ hand carding and threading through his curls while mindlessly scrolling on his phone, occassional content hums leaving his mouth. Remus—he was sat on the floor resting his back against the sofa, pressed against James’ leg, head leaning on his knee, book in hand.

The epitome of domesticity.

All so very intune with each other, and then there was you.

Sat at the other end of the couch, just over an arms length away from them, scrunched into the corner covered in a blanket—trying to reach the word count for a project and failing miserably to focus on the screen in front of you.

It’s simple, you could go, scoot over and join them in their comfortable bliss, but it seemed just that bit too hard—where would you start?

Until now you never considered being inexperienced a bad thing, but you couldn’t help but wonder how if just a bit of knowhow would’ve make you less shy to join.

Navigating the mass of bodies should really be at the bottom of your to-do list, so taking a deep breath, you force your attention to the painstakingly boring work on your lap, once again starting to type. You’d built up a good rhythm, the words flowing easier as the time went by, and even though your legs had gone numb a while ago, it seemed like a good idea to ride the wave of concentration while you still had it.

So much so that you didn’t notice the shuffling sounds of movement going on a meer meter away. James had made his way up and off the couch, padding into the kitchen, switching on the radio upon entry—a telltale sign he’d about to start cooking.

The space James had left on couch was still hot from his residual heat when, on cue, Sirius reach his hand over to Remus’ shoulder, pouting dramatically, patting the still-warm space on the couch. “You’re not coming up?”

Remus, his neck tilted back slightly to look at Sirius, exhaled through his nose. He hesitated for half a second before shifting to stand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered, pushing himself up.

As he moved past you, his fingertips brushed against your leg—so lightly, so fleetingly that you barely registered the touch, too engrossed in your project to notice. If you had noticed, you might’ve seen the way he glanced at you, how his gaze lingered for just a beat longer than necessary.

By the time he plopped down onto the couch, Sirius wasted no time crawling onto him, sprawling across his lap like a cat seeking warmth. Remus just huffed out a light chuckle as Sirius melted against him, pressing his face into his shoulder and humming contentedly. Instinctively, Remus’ hand came up to his hair, fingers tangling in soft curls, stroking without thought.

But even as he did, his eyes flickered back to you—quick, searching glances that went unnoticed. He can imagine it to be overwhelming, entering an already established relationship—still so many things unspoken, still so much to learn. And Remus ever the watcher, had noticed how your little habits—your tendencies to take up as little space as possible, shrinking slightly under the pressure of intimacy.

It’s not that you’re afraid of it—affection, intimacy—it was that you were just genuinely clueless, there’s not exactly a manual on how to do all; something that they already do so well, so intuitively between themselves.

It made you nervous is all, unable to imagine how awkward it would be if you’d done the wrong thing, put yourself in the wrong place—the room for mistakes seemed endless.

Still, Remus wasn’t going to push, or pry. Not until he was sure, sure that the way your fingers twitch by your side was with the desire to join, sure that your not so discrete hesitant glances were of a longing nature.

All his thoughts were about you, that was until Sirius distracted him in the best way he knew how.

Soft, light kisses pressed against his collarbone, trailing up to his neck, his jaw. His lips warm delicately working his way up until he was scattering pecks across Remus’ face—his nose, the tops of his freckled cheekbones, his temple—Remus was still slightly spying on you despite Sirius’ playful assault.

And, of course just moments before this your concentration had finally faltered, the smell of whatever James was cooking breaking your focus ever so slightly.

His eyes flicked toward where you sat—shoulders hunched ever so slightly forward, brows furrowed in that way they always did when you were deep in concentration. He wondered if you even realized the way you bit at your lip, the way your fingers twitched ever so slightly like they wanted to fidget, to reach out.

Sirius barely registered the amused hum from him before the next kiss landed, this time firmer against the corner of his mouth. Then another—this one lingering, coaxing, before Sirius finally pressed their lips together properly, letting it stretch just long enough for Remus to forget what he was doing.

You blinked, taking in the scene, your eyes widening slightly before flitting away, your fingers pausing over your keyboard. Lips pursing together slightly before your teeth peaked out and took hold of the corner of your mouth.

Sirius felt the way the corners of Remus’ lips spread into a smirk before he pulled away from him, just long enough to whispered to him, breath tickling the shell of his ear, “Watch her,”

Pulling them both onto their side, stealing small looks in your direction as he kissed Remus again—this time deeper, more obnoxious, more deliberate—sighs and hums of contentment bouncing between them.

Naturally, your eyes drifted to the source of the noise, body stilling as though unsure whether to look away or keep watching.

They found it quite cute, the way you eyes darted around the room frantically, trying hard to not stare despite being helplessly drawn to look at the cause of sounds. Teeth mercilessly taking refuge in your cheek, forcing your lips in to a pout that bordered bashful.

Curious thing, you were.

Satisfied with the effect, he exhaled a quiet laugh against Sirius’ lips and decided to stop tormenting you—for now. With a final squeeze to Sirius’ waist, Remus stood, making his way over towering tall over you and, without hesitation, shut your laptop with a soft click.

Whipping your head to find him, brows arched up, a light smirk twitching at his lips as he looked down at you—gaze so intense you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at whatever was causing the sofa to dip beside you.

Only breaking when you felt his hot breath skim along the edge of your earlobe—spine immediately becoming taut, skin prickling down the back of your neck. Sirius was so close and you didn’t need to look at him to know he had a mischievous smirk playing on his lips—“I think you’ve worked hard enough, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth radiating from them both, of the weight of their gazes—teasing, expectant, knowing. You weren’t completely unfamilar with their touch, James loved to press obnoxious wet kisses on your cheeks. Remus was also very well versed in the language of forehead kisses and hand holding—Sirius had even gone as far to occassionally sneak dangerous little pecks onto the thin skin behind your ear when you cuddled.

Alert, and flickering panicked looks between them, the tips of your ears felt hot as you stammered out the words, “uh—everything okay?”

Your hands were in your lap clasped together tightly—thumb unconsciously picking at the skin around your nails when Sirius came impossibly closer to you, a small huffed chuckle leaving as he neared. Fingertips brushing a few stray hairs behind your ears, voice low and smooth— “Mmmm, everything’s fine—Moony’s just got a question,”

He could feel the slight shudder that ran through your body, gaze shifting to Remus, hands stuffed into his pockets, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leaned down over you—very clearly entertained by your reactions. His eyes darted around your face, scanning, observing your wide-eyed expression, how you sunk into the soft cushion, trying to put space between you.

The corner of his lips quirked up into a crooked smile, tilting his head as he asked;

“Would you like one?”

The warmth of Sirius’ fingertips trailing light ghostly touches down the side of your neck was so distracting, making your mouth painfully dry, air catching in your throat as your opened and closed your lips repeatedly. Wracking your brain for a response, words, anything—but it felt annoyingly blank, sucking in a shaky breath, your words came out pinched and meek—breathy on the exhale.

Sirius snickered under his breath, barely containing his delight at your reaction, and Remus exhaled a soft chuckle of his own.

“One what?”

Even if you tried to push yourself any further into the couch, practically willing yourself to become one with the fabric—anything to escape this awful flipping feeling at the pits of your stomach—you couldn’t. And it only got worse when Remus leaned in further, precariously close, the tip of his nose just barely grazing the skin of your cheekbones, Sirius could see the way your shoulders inched up and up, closer to your ears as your virtually shrunk into yourself.

Remus’ voice was rough and teasing, making the heat that resided in the tips of your ear spread invasively under the skin of your cheeks. “I saw you—it’s okay to be curious, my love, ” He took his hands from his pockets and brought one to the arm of the sofa, the other resting on the ball of Sirius’ knee, that was flush against yours. He leaned back as he continued, capturing your gaze, “You don’t have to be so shy about it.”

His words were low, steady, laced with that quiet knowing that made your stomach tighten. He was close—too close, and Sirius wasn’t any better, his fingertips still ghosting along your jaw, trailing up toward your ear, his shoulders brushing against yours.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe properly, heat blooming in your chest—radiating outwards, the close proximity, it all just had your head feeling rattled. “I—” You started, but the words immediately died in your throat, and Sirius huffed dramatically, shifting even nearer.

“C’mon, love, we won’t bite.” His breath was warm against your skin. “Unless you want us to.”

Your inhale was sharp, and Sirius grinned, practically preening at your reaction.

But Remus—Remus remained still, observing, reading for any flicker of hesitation, every small tell you didn’t even realize you were giving away. He tilted his head slightly, watching the way your hands curled into your lap, the way your breath hitched when Sirius’ fingers traced your pulse.

And then, his voice dropped even lower, softer—”So would you like one?” The back of his fingers came lightly over the curve of your jaw, lips brushing the bottom of your earlobes when he finally whispered,

“A kiss.”

Your stomach flipped violently, breath hitching and as a light shudder passed over your body—Remus must have noticed, because he smiled—soft and knowing, tilting his head slightly, giving you space, waiting. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding—just offering.

And somehow, that was even more overwhelming.

Lips parted slightly, words failing you completely, barely forcing out the start of a sentence, “B—” When his voice rang just behind you, dripping with amusement; “Have I walked into an ambush?” You hadn’t even noticed James entering the room.

But that was exactly how you felt, ambushed—trapped like a lamb in the midst of a group of lions, chest skipping out of its rhythmic rise and fall when James’ hand slid gently over your shoulder, your lips were still parted, holding the remains of your unfinished sentence. Sirius spoke, turning his head to look at James, smirk taking on a wolfish quality—”Just seeing if our girl would like a kiss,” As the last word left his lips, he was facing you again, head tilting to fit into the dip of your neck, lips almost gliding over the skin.

No where to run, the combined weight of their gaze made you awfully aware of your racing heartbeat, sounding loud between your ears, riccocheting off the empty space in your brain—only able to blink-up at Remus, mouth agape.

Sirius made an amused little noise in the back of his throat. “She’s thinking too hard again,” he murmured, his fingertips moving from their place on your collarbone, to travel down the curve of your skin—fighting every urge in your body to not arch away from his touch. His palm stopped and rest in the small of your back, hot and anchoring.

“Darling, it’s a yes or no question.” The words were still soft, still pressure-less, leaving you all the room in the world to stop this.

Your fingers twitched slightly, curling into the fabric of your sweater, throat suddenly unbearably dry—still completely entrapped under Remus’ watchful eye.

“I’ve never—” You swallowed. “I don’t know how.”

It was more breath than words, was barely a whisper, almost inaudible, but they all heard it.

Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose, amused, James’ palm soothed comfortingly over you shoulder, while Remus’ smile softened further, something impossibly tender flashing across his face.

“That’s alright,” he murmured, voice quiet, patient. His hand lifted slightly, fingers hovering near your cheek but barely touching, waiting for any sign, any indication from you. “I could show you.”

Sirius hummed lightly beside you, clearly pleased with where this was going. “Mmm, yeah, Moons is an excellent teacher.”

Your gaze flickered between them, caught between the heat of Sirius’ mischief and the warmth of Remus’ patience, the quiet promise in his eyes.

Your heart was pounding.

Opening your mouth, but nothing came out, your throat tight��only able to nod shyly. Sirius took pity on you, grinning as he shifted back and patted his lap invitingly.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he purred. “Front row seat for the lesson.”

You blinked at him, completely dumbfounded,

“What?”

Remus, ever patient, gave Sirius a look, but there was amusement there, too. “We’ll give you a demonstration.”

Sirius patted his thigh again, eyes glinting with mischief. “Come on, love, don’t be shy.”

You hesitated for a long moment, but Sirius just raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly, his fingers tapping against his leg. James had already made his way around the sofa, and looked just entirely too pleased at the idea.

Eventually, you sighed, heat creeping along the back of your neck as you shuffled over, hesitantly perching yourself on Sirius’ lap. His arms immediately wound around your waist, back flush against his chest, keeping you snug against him as he leaned in, breath tickling your ear.

Remus huffed out a quiet laugh, already reaching for James' collar, tugging him forward until their lips met in an easy, practiced rhythm. Practically melting into each others touch.

It was undemanding, natural. And unconsciously, your eyes darted away from the scene, flickering down onto your hands that still endlessly fiddled with the hem of your sleeve. But, against your luck, Sirius caught you.

“No no no, keep looking,” His voice was gentle, no traces of reprimand, he could feel stiff you were—breath shallow, shoulders tense. Pulling you in further against him, hand moving from your waist to settle on the round of your thighs—thumb stroking in a soothing pattern. Along with the way his voice rumbled of his voice in chest against your back and the velvety hum of his words, “Relax, love,” purged some of the nervous tension that had settled in your bones away.

It wasn’t just that they were kissing—it was how. The effortless way James’ hands slid into Remus’ hair, the way Remus exhaled softly into it, melting just a bit. The way their noses brushed, the way Remus tilted his head slightly to deepen it, slow and unhurried, languid in a way that sent something strange and warm curling in your stomach.

It was so fluid, second-nature.

James made a quiet noise in the back of his throat when Remus bit at his bottom lip, and Sirius hummed behind you.

“See that?” he murmured against your ear. “Slow, but firm. It’s not a race, love. It’s about feeling it, letting it happen.”

Your breath was shallow, completely entranced, and James—who had definitely caught the way your fingers curled against Sirius’ hands your thighs—broke the kiss just long enough to grin at you.

“You taking notes, sweetheart?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Sirius chuckled, chin propped on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, Prongs, I think she’s getting the idea.”

Your entire body was on fire.

And he could feel it, the heat radiating off your body against his, trying not fidget in his lap, and he didn’t help your case. Opting to torture you more with his low teasing cadance and lips dangerously close to your pulse, whispering; “Think you’re ready to try?”

You swallowed thickly, pulse hammering in your throat. Ready to try? That was the question, wasn’t it?

Because in theory, you knew what kissing was supposed to be. You’d seen it a thousand times—in movies, in books, in passing glances stolen between strangers. But knowing wasn’t feeling, and feeling was something else entirely.

Especially when three sets of eyes were locked onto you, waiting.

You wet your lips unconsciously, and Sirius made a pleased little sound behind you, his hands settling more firmly, squeezing lightly against your thighs. “That’s a good start,” he murmured. “Mmm, maybe she’s a natural, Moons.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head slightly to catch Remus’ expression. He was still watching you, his gaze steady, unreadable. You searched for impatience there, for amusement, for any sign of frustration—but there was none. Only quiet, open curiosity, waiting for you to make the call.

Inhaling deeply though your nose, a light wave of hesitance flickering through you.

“I…” You trailed off, glancing over at James, who had since leaned back against the couch, all easy confidence, his head tilting slightly to the side. “With…who?”

The second the words left your mouth, Sirius laughed, delighted.

“Oh, love,” he purred, adjusting his wide legged position even wider, causing your hips to fall further into his middle—sinking into his touch. “That’s the best part.”

James smirked at that, hazel eyes flashing. “Mmm, guess it’s only fair we let you pick,” he mused. “We wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Liar.

You didn’t believe that for a second, not when Sirius was grinning like the cat that got the cream, and certainly not when Remus had the nerve to sit beside James, looking at you like he was already in your head, reading your thoughts before you could even think them.

Your heart was racing so fast you were surprised they couldn’t hear it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—you did. But what if you messed it up? What if you got the angle wrong, or forgot to breathe, or—

“Darling.” Remus’ voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, quiet but firm. You snapped your gaze to him automatically, fingers twitching, picking at the jean fabric of by Sirius’ hands. “There’s nothing to get wrong.”

You barely had time to react before he leaned in—slow, deliberate—just close enough that the warmth of him made your breath stutter.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

You hesitated, but after a beat, you did.

The next thing you felt was the feather-light brush of his lips against your cheek—not quite a kiss, not really, just the barest ghost of contact. Lips parting, letting a shallow hitching breath pass.

“There,” he murmured. “Easy, isn’t it?”

His lips brushed another kiss over the curve of your jaw, still unbearably gentle, giving you time, giving you space. You inhale shakily, body still burning against Sirius, Remus just hummed, trailing the kisses just slightly lower. There was barely any time for you to respond before he finally—finally—pressed his lips against yours

It was so much softer than you’d expected, warm and welcoming. Not demanding, not urgent—just there, patient, waiting for you to catch up.

Your stomach flipped, and Sirius hummed his approval against your ear, his hands rubbing absent, slow circles into your sides. James, let out a quiet exhale, watching intently from beside Remus—hands twitching almost in efforts to stay put.

Trying your best to stay out of your head, focus on the kiss but not too hard, pace yourself, enjoy the moment—your hands curling into themselves at your sides. But when Remus hummed, a small pleased sound into the kiss, the tension building in you slipped away. Further and further into the back of your mind.

He kissed you like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he wanted to be kissing you, and your brain was getting more mushy as the contact continued. Your hands twitched again, and this time, you actually moved, leaning slightly into the kiss—one of them hesitantly lifting to rest against the front of his shirt.

Sirius, sensing the change immediately, grinned, chin still propped on your shoulder.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

James hummed in agreement, eyes dark with interest. “Looks like she’s a fast learner.”

Remus, still entirely too composed, simply smiled into the kiss, his hands finally moving to cradle your jaw, holding you there as he deepened it just slightly.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, cheeks flushed—lips wet and reddened.

James, evidently unable to contain himself, turned your chin slightly toward him, eyes practically shining with mischief.

“My turn.”

His lips were on yours, and if Remus was patient and careful, James was the opposite.

Kissing you like he was playing—feverish and teasing, like he knew exactly how new it was for you, how you were still unsure, and he was more than content in exploring.

Initially he let you take the lead, barely pressing into you, lips moving slowly, teasingly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your jaw as if coaxing you forward. But as he leaned further into you, hands planting themselves firmly on your thighs—parting his lips against yours.

You were vaguely aware of the sound of Sirius humming in approval somewhere behind you, his fingers tightening just slightly on your waist as James’ tongue flicked playfully against your bottom lip. Your breath caught in your throat, and he grinned against your mouth, clearly pleased with your reaction.

James littered more kisses onto your skin, starting at the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, bringing the exposed skin of your collarbone gently between his lips—nipping and sucking softly. Earning him a breathy whimper, exhaling “Jamie,” as you craned your neck into him more, hands jumping to find purchase on his arms.

Remus’ hand inched up James’ spine, almost as a reminder that said, don’t be greedy. Withdrawing, he allowed the other a better look at your expression—half lidded, satified hums leaving your still kiss-flushed lips, unbareably pretty.

Sirius let out a low, appreciative whistle behind you, a low “Damn,” passing into the air, breath skimming over the back of your neck.

“Ready for round two?”

You hadn’t had time to come back down into the room fully before Sirius’ hands came down to your hips—the words barely proccessing in your mind as you spun on his lap. Positioning you so your legs split across his thighs. His hands settled on your waist, warm and steady, fingers splayed just under the hem of your shirt, grounding you.

Sirius was still watching you, that signature smirk playing at his lips, but there was something softer in his expression now—something reassuring, like he was making sure you weren’t too overwhelmed.

But how could you not be?

You could still feel the lingering warmth of Remus’ kiss on your lips, still taste James’ breath against yours. And now planted on Sirius’ lap, he was moving closer, eyes flicking over your face, searching for hesitation.

You didn’t even realize you’d clenched your hands into nervous fists until Sirius made a small noise of amusement and pried one open, lacing his fingers through yours. “Breath, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. “You’re in good hands.”

Unlike Remus’ patience or James’ teasing, Sirius kissed you like he was yearning.

its like a torch had been lit, your body was set even further ablaze when Sirius pressed his lips firmly against yours, immediately tightening his hold on your waist. Pads of his fingers grasping almost desperately onto the flesh trying to pull you closer than you already were—shifting his hips upwards into you. Your voice trembled in your throat, failing to make it to your lips as muffled moan threatened to leave you. Hands coming up to his neck, fingers threading and tugging at the hair at the base of his neck.

“Fucking hell, you two,” sounded from beside you, but it felt so far away, dulled by the thumping echo of your pulse in your ears and the soft hums and mewls leaving the both of you.

He kissed like he meant it, like he wanted you to feel all of it, tongue just barely teasing against the seam of your lips, making you gasp out a whine. He took full advantage of the sound, his hands squeezing at your curve of your hips before he pulled back just enough to grin against your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

The words sent a sharp jolt of heat down your spine, it had you arching into him against you will, rocking involuntarily into him, and Sirius let out a delighted little laugh. Head falling into the crook of his neck, slightly embarrassed by the reactions he so easily compelled from you.

“Ohh, Pads,” James drawled, chin resting on his shoulder, breath warm against his ear. “You’re gonna break her.”

Sirius hummed, utterly unbothered. “Dunno, Jamie—” his lips ghosted against your neck again, just barely touching, a tease, “—she seems to be holding up just fine.”

You weren’t.

Your thoughts were scrambled, body thrumming, your hands clutching onto Sirius as if he were the only thing tethering you to the earth.

And when you brought your head out of its hiding spot, Remus’ could barely contain the laugh that bubbled in his chest, musing with a tilting his head. “Mmm, think she likes it.” Your parted lips, chest heaving trying to catch your breath—pupils blown and hazy expression Remus was more than convinced you liked it.

Sirius, still curled up comfortably beneath you, pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Yeah, sweetheart?” His voice was teasing, syrupy sweet, lips dragging up to your jaw, inching up to the corners of your mouth—almost kisses—then trailing back away. And you could only melt into them, breathless and dizzy and completely, utterly lost in it all.

“Should we stop, or do you wanna keep learning?”

this is my first time writing poly! so pls be kind x

part 2 - hands-on lesson!

[crescenthistory]

did i hear you say you were writing another animagus!reader x regulus where they cuddle at hogwarts in each their cat forms? 🥺🥺

you know what they say, don't believe everything you hear... except for that, that's actually true

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, copious amounts of fluff, established relationship, bsf!remus, background wolfstar, reader and reg are kinda goody-two-shoes, platonic physical affection

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with reg, wolfstar and james here & here

Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat

What a conundrum.

Remus should take this as an opportunity to be a good friend. You have spent almost two decades showing him exactly how to do that, playing the perfect part of the sister-he-never-had, loving and supporting him through life. For never turning your back on him, Remus is sure he owes you far more than what he can ever repay you, so he should try every single day. He should be a good friend.

But it was just too funny not to.

"At what point is it our duty to wake them up?" Sirius' voice whispered in his ear, shaking with mirth.

"I'm wondering the exact same thing." Remus dragged his words out to avoid making a decision. "How long do you think we can get away with?"

"I mean, they are already 15 minutes late to their Charms lesson, so we're dead men walking for not having said anything so far."

Remus is just able to tear his eyes away from you to glance sideways at Sirius, a too-fond smile already playing over his lips as he sees the exact mischievous look on his boyfriend's face that he expected. The look he fell in love with, not that Remus would be sappy enough to think about that right now. "So what you're saying is..."

"Leave it for a while longer?" Sirius grinned.

"Leave it for a while longer." Remus confirmed, whispering through a laugh, shifting his body further into Sirius' side as he lets his eyes fall back on you.

Well. On what he and Sirius knew to be you and Regulus, but what all other students in the library thought was just two cats sleeping in an armchair.

There was an elongated square of sunlight cast onto the middle of the seat by one of the beautifully decorated windows of the ancient castle, every cat's dream spot. The green velvet covering the seat of the mahogany chair was already riddled with fur from how long the two of you had been curled up around each other in it, white, grey and black hairs mixing together. Your forms might as well be mixing together too, fluid in a way that defied physics yet looked impossibly comfortable. Remus supposed you had to milk as much pleasure out of being an animagus as possible to make that whole mandrake leaf ordeal worth it. Though you could not answer even if he asked you right now, he was sure you at this very moment thought it was.

Remus' smile widened as he saw your chest rise dramatically as you breathed a sleepy huff, turning your head over slightly and burrowing it further into Regulus' plush neck. Your little cat bodies laid facing each other, arms around each other in a way he thought looked a little too much like a human hug.

It would be the absolute picture of serenity, two young things with no care in the world but each other – had it not been for the large clock ironically hanging right behind you, reminding you that you were not supposed to be here right now.

The four of you – five before James ran off the second he spotted red hair a few shelves back – had spent your two hours of shared free periods to read up together, for once actually doing a considerable amount of studying during it. Sirius was rubbing it in your faces, yours by consequence and Regulus' by design, that you still had one lesson left for the day when you abruptly stood up and demanded that you need a study break. When you then promptly dragged Regulus off into a corner, Sirius got the karma of a lifetime as he grew very concerned about what kind of break you would be engaging in. That was until the two cats lazily strolled back in and made themselves comfortable in the chair they now claimed as theirs.

Knowing you, Remus knew you hadn't intended on falling asleep, but maybe the fact that you did meant you really needed it. Yes, surely, you must have been exhausted and your body demanded a rest, so frankly he is quite an amazing friend for ensuring you listen to your health and your needs.

"Cats shouldn't be allowed to be that cute," Sirius all but grumbled as he looked at the two of them. "I should hate them on principle, but look at them Moony!"

"Quite literally no one is demanding that you hate cats on behalf of Padfoot, Siri."

"Padfoot is!" Sirius gave him a you can't argue with that logic look, but Remus knew he could.

"Ah, yes, my boyfriend the dog," he mused, cocking an eyebrow at Sirius who promptly reached out with his finger and pulled it back down.

"I could so give you a comeback to that, but I respect you too much not to say it in public," Sirius muttered and Remus couldn't fight his laughter.

Something moving in his periphery brought his attention back on you, seeing you shift even more into Regulus which caused him to begin stirring as well. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, Remus whispered to you in his mind.

As always, you didn't listen to him, and ever so slowly Remus saw you peel one yellow eye open, blinking blearily at the room before turning your head back towards Regulus. The greyest of your four paws came up to gently pet at the black cat's neck, almost as if you were smoothing over the fur you had ruffled in your sleep. It made Remus' heart ache with love for you both, even as his stomach was slowly dropping.

A soft prrt! escaped Regulus before he instantly began purring and tightening his hold on you with his little cat paws, nosing his head against yours. A kind of softness Regulus rarely let himself fall into in public, though this was arguably a grey area.

It almost looked like you were about to be driven back into sleep by the vibrations moving through you from Regulus' chest. Remus noticed Sirius paying attention raptly as well, which was unfortunate.

Because when you shot up out of your seat with a small squeak, jumping as if startled as you looked towards the clock – now a good 30 minutes into your 45 minutes lesson – Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. It earned him more than a few hushes from those around, but most importantly, it earned him your head snapping around to look at him with eyes that could rival a basilisk’s.

Considering Remus was already on a streak of making disloyal choices towards his loved ones, he didn't fight his instinct to stand up from his seat and back up when you ran and jumped onto the table right in front of Sirius' face with a hiss. You slapped at him with a clawless paw to which Sirius whispered something along the lines of "hey, knock it off, be cool" while trying to hold you at arm's length. You scowled at him as aggressively as any cat could, raising your back slightly before you arguably tut-ed at him and jumped back down.

Remus fought for his life to not laugh.

You turned around and ran over to Regulus who was still lazily stretching and gaining his bearings, not an ounce of care shown towards the near-assault of his brother. Nudging him with your head towards the end of the chair, he got the point and jumped down, already falling into his usual graceful mannerisms.

Together you scurried off back into your corner.

When you came back a mere minute later Remus swore there was no difference in your facial expression. Remus carefully walked around the table – where Sirius was still sitting with a petulant pout – hands up in surrender.

You crossed your arms, leaning your weight onto your right hip as you glared at your oldest friend, clearly expecting him to speak first. Behind you Regulus was strolling over, looking like he was trying really hard to be miffed but falling just short.

“How dare you,” you said – and it was a statement, not a question.

“In my defence,” Remus started, hands still up but so were the corners of his lips. “You two looked adorable.”

“That will surely hold up real well with the professor,” you scoffed.

“We didn’t make you fall asleep, princess,” Sirius grumbled to which you turned to him with a bitch please look Remus is fairly certain you picked up from Sirius.

“Apologies for expecting my friends to have my back. How stupid of me.”

“Very stupid indeed,” Sirius murmured as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when he found it to be cold. He nearly spilled some when Regulus gave him a light slap up the back of the head.

Remus figured it was time to pull out the big guns.

He manoeuvred his held up hands to be stretched out towards you instead with a rueful smile as he inched closer and closer. You had a moody expression still, eyeing him with suspicion, but you didn’t move out of the way. He dared make a small cooing sound as he brought you into a hug, coddling you like one would a child after they hurt themselves to keep them from crying.

“‘M super super sorry, lovie,” Remus half-muttered half-laughed into your hair as he rocked you a little bit. Your arms were still crossed against his chest, but you were leaning into him. 

“Don’t believe you, Loopy.” 

Regulus snorted at that and Remus looked up at him over his shoulder and the boys shared a look of humour and shared love for you that warmed his stomach. Though when Sirius nipped at Regulus’ sleeve to get his attention, the faux-miffed expression was plastered right back on the younger boy’s face.

Siblings, Remus thought and chuckled a bit into your hair.

“You laughing at me?” you questioned incredulously. 

“No, I’m laughing at our boys.” His response was quick to rid himself of any further accusations.

You instantly nodded against his shoulder. “Understandable.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this, amour.” Regulus' chiding tone was met with you uncrossing your arms at last, reaching a hand out behind you blindly, which he immediately took and squeezed with his own.

You let your other arm curl around Remus’ back. Forgiveness at last.

He pulled back to look down at you with a goofy grin, and was pleased to see you could no longer contain yours either. “You were really cute. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

You gave him a look. “Right, no laughing at our expense whatsoever.”

“Never.”

You gave him a light shove while you snorted, pushing him away from you. “This is what I get for my sacrifice for you?” you said as you shook your head at him not much unlike McGonagall would during detention.

“I would argue you got a pretty sweet deal with that sacrifice, doll, seeing as you can curl up with your equally sacrificial boyfriend and sleep in the library whenever.” Sirius nodded solemnly, while jutting his chin towards Regulus. “This one would never let that happen in any other form.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could’ve convinced him,” you replied, looking at Regulus with an almost salacious smile. As if to prove your point – or just to prove Sirius wrong – he came up to stand closer behind you, arms going around your waist. You leaned your weight back against him with a happy sigh.

“Disgusting,” was all Sirius offered.

You raised an eyebrow at him before turning your head sideways to give Regulus a short, sweet kiss.

“Disgusting,” he groaned once more, pressing the backs of his palms into his eyes.

“Karma,” you and Remus sing-songed at him at the exact same time in the exact same tone. 

Your eyes met in surprise before you both burst out laughing, any pretend fight seeping out of you as you both beamed at each other.

Siblings, Remus found himself thinking once more.

“Well, now that we don’t have a lesson to get to anymore, I suggest we get out of here,” Regulus sighed, squeezing your hips as if to underline his point.

“Where we heading?” Sirius asked as he swung his legs out to get up.

“I don’t know where you’re going,” you started. “But Remus will go hunt down a certain Head Boy and get him to make up some excuse to Professor Flitwick for why Regulus and I did not attend class so that our absence is removed from the records.” You put on your sweetest smile as you turned towards Remus at the last part.

“Regulus, what have you done with her?!” Sirius stage-whispered his accusation at Regulus who only responded with a certain impolite gesture.

“And why would James do that?” Remus drawls, certain that his entertainment was written all over his face.

“Oh, I’m sure he owes you for something, you figure it out.” You spoke as you tried to put your bag over your shoulder to leave, but Remus and Regulus both reached for it at the same time. They gave each other a look, trying to decide who will take the literal burden, before they both turned to Sirius and dropped the bag in his lap. He rolled his eyes at the both of them, but pulled the strap over his free shoulder nonetheless. 

“You are quite the minx, aren’t you?” Remus asked, going for chiding and landing somewhere along the lines of compliance.

“Learned from the best, Rem!” you cheered brightly, pressing quick smacking kisses on both his and Sirius’ cheek.

Before they could muster up a response or a reaction, you had already hauled Regulus down the halls of the library towards the exit with half-heartedly hushed giggles. The raven-haired boy looked over his shoulder right before you turned the corner with a barely-contained smile, inhibitions straw thin in your presence.

Remus understood him well.

He turned to Sirius with a pleased smile to find him already admiring his reactions from where he stood beside him.

“I get why they’re cats,” Remus mused as he interlaced their fingers, following the general direction you ran off to, ready to hunt down James and possibly claw up some furniture. 

“Because they’re adorable but also massive menaces?”

Remus breathed out contently. “Yeah.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more of “Demon and Angel Brat”? I love those demon twins so much, also I’m wondering how the Phantom family is hadling this, are Sam and Tucker also in to this? Does Jazz approves this prank? (Wondering how Dani or Dan will fut in this too)

Danny gets a phone call.

Damian knew his brother's real life would eventually burst the bubble on their fun, but he was not expecting it to be broken this soon into their prank.

The Fentons, of course, knew of their little joke and had been fine with having to speak to Danny in secret. Since their cover story was that Danny was too sick to be anything but support for the Bats- and even then, he would sometimes head to bed early if he wasn't feeling well- it was easy to find a little corner of the Manor for Danny to call home. Though that was usually at three in the morning, the Fentons didn't seem to mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton even gave ideas to have Danny act out in order to scare the Waynes. Mr. Fenton's favorite was making Drake panic by making Danny suggest they do "Dark Magic" then have it turn out to be harmless fun.

Like claiming to want to make love potions for Dowd and then just making some homemade juice for the teenager. Drake looked like he was having a heart attack when Danny busted out potion bottles and edible glitter.

Mrs Fenton, on the other hand, wanted to focus more on logical details. She asked Danny to make wild claims about what he was allowed to do in the Manor. Since Danny supposedly didn't go out much, she felt that he needed to create great memories around the Manor, and thus Danny convinced whoever happened to be walking by to play games with him.

Thomas had pushed Danny on an office chair for almost four hours while his brother pretended to be an airplane pilot. Damian had later seen Thomas, Brown, and Cain pretending to be a prince and two princess trapped at the top of the stairs as if they were locked away in a tower while Danny fought imaginary knights down below.

He thinks Cain only went along with it because she got to wear a big puffy pink dress. Father had ordered costumes for Danny to play with after his brother got back from the history museum with Todd.

Damian knows Todd and Father were also still attempting to pressure the history museum into installing fake historical events that Danny made up. It wasn't going well, but they were making a decent effort.

Still all this fun had only been over the course of two weeks and that seemed to be far too long for Danny's friends.

Thus, the phone call arrived in the middle of dinner with the entire family twisting towards the "sick" twin. Danny stared at this phone, looking as if he had forgotten it could ring before he clicked the call to connect.

""Excuse me I need to take this." He held it up to his ear while standing from table. "Hey Tuck. What's up?"

Damian watches his brother walk out of the room, tugging along his gas tank and heart pack like it was second nature. The large dining room door closes behind him with a soft click, and a few blissful of seconds follow, before everyone starts demanding answers.

"Who's Tuck?" Ricard accused as Damian dabbed his mouth with napkin "Why is this Tuck calling Danny?"

Now Damian could say the truth, could make it easier on his brother and the family, even he liked a laugh every once in a while. After all he was a twin to a mischievous prankster.

"Tuck, is Danny's ridiculous nickname for Tucker Foley. He's Danny's ex" Damian revealed with a hand wave. The family's faces darken (except for Cain and Alfred. One because she knows he's lying, and the other because he thinks it's healthy to date) "Danny broke up with him after their summer fling, and now Foley is dating their other friend, Samantha Manson. Between you and I, Foley and Manson are carrying a torch for Danny and are likely attempting to include them in a throuple."

"I want everything you can find on Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson," Father snaps at Drake, who already had his tablet out and typing a storm on his travel keyboard. Thankfully, Danny had gotten Gordon to fake a Gotham tech camp so his two friends could visit him in the city soon.

It was so Damian could get to know his friends and so that all three could have a break from ghost hunting, but this would be entertaining to watch.

Damian sips his tea, watching Brown and Todd hiss threats under their breaths while Thomas actively cracks his knuckles. He only did that when he was feeling particularly violent.

Drake lets out a noise that he has only ever heard him make when he's about to blow up a building. He twists his tablet around, banging his other hand on the tabletop aggressively. "Bruce, I think things with Foley were more serious than is appropriate for Danny. He's only fourteen!"

It took every ounce of his training not to burst out laughing. On Drake's tablet is a photo of Danny and Foley cuddling while asleep on the floor. It was posted by Manson with the caption "We made some interesting discoveries tonight!"

He knows she meant the purple back gorilla, but the poor girl just didn't have a way with words like she thought she did.

It's that moment that Danny wanders back in, wearing his normal bright and innocent smile. "Tucker and Sam are coming to Gotham. They want to hang out with me at Lover's Lane!"

Damian slams a hand over his mouth, just barely stopping himself from spewing his tea across the table as his family bristles. Lover's Lane was the best spot in all of Gotham to see the city's lights and had some of the best public gardens. A sight people from a small town like Amity Park would adore to see.

It also earned the nickname Lover's Lane for a very obvious reason, but Damian feels Danny has forgotten that part.

"You are not-"

"-Going to want to meet them wearing the same old clothes. Why don't I take you shopping after you finish eating Master Danny" Alfred cuts father off mid rant, sending everyone a stern glare when the family's all look ready to argue "After all, if your friends who clearly remember how much fun they have with you, it would be a pity to have them erase those good memories with a wardrobe malfunction."

Damian should tell his father to give that man a raise.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Sleep Paralysis Demon Visits You Nightly

[Yandere! Sleep Paralysis Demon x GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You tried so hard to stay awake for as long as you could.

You even tried to look up ways to stay up online, doing tricks such as downing caffeine, jogging late at night, and even refusing to sit anywhere near your bed.

Unfortunately, you're only human and eventually you could feel the sleepiness taking over your body.

Hopefully he won't show tonight...

💤

It's dark out and the only noise that you can pick up is the slight scratching of the tree against the glass on your bedroom window. Your line out sight is directed towards the far corner of your bedroom, which is shrouded in black shadows.

But you can't move.

You can't speak.

You're trapped.

Helpless.

A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead, and your heart begins to race in your chest as you wait for it...

"Hey, Darling," a deep, gravelly voice echoes out in your small bedroom.

The black shadow in the corner of the room darkens, seemingly drawing in the rest of the shadows in the bedroom-- a pair of eerie red eyes appear.

They laser focus on you.

"Darling, I missed you," the voice says again. "I missed you so, so much." An angry growl emanates from the dark corner of the room. "Why? Why are you trying to avoid me?"

The wooden floorboards creak as he approaches the bed. Slowly, you can start to make out a tall, intimidating figure emerging from the shadows. The sleep paralysis demon who's visited you every night for the past few months stalks closer and closer to the bed.

He's angry, you fear. His red eyes are narrowed in your direction, and as he draws nearer, his large mouth is forming a snarl. It shows off the rows of dagger-sharp teeth that could easily slice your flesh if you ever piss him off.

Had you been able to move, you would've shivered at the sight of the terrifying demon.

The demon paused and frowned when he sensed your fear.

"Oh, Darling," he almost pouted, "don't be scared. Daddy won't hurt you."

He moves out of sight, but then you can feel the mattress starting to shift underneath his added weight. His body radiates an intense heat as it crawls over you. He snakes his strong arms around you and holds you closer to him.

"I'm just a little upset that my darling isn't getting enough sleep," the demon huffs, his hot breath wafting over your cheek as he speaks. His lips are pressed against you, and you can feel his facial muscles flex with every word he mutters.

Helpless, you're completely powerless as he cuddles you. He runs admiring fingers through your hair and shoves his nose into the crook of your neck, moaning loudly as he inhales your delicious scent.

"It's the only time we can see each other," he continues. "And I really missed you when you weren't sleeping. Didn't you miss me? Even a little bit?"

Of course you would've refused had you been able to answer.

"Of course you did," the demon smiles. "My darling missed me a lot. I just know it... maybe, just maybe I won't let you wake up. Then we can be together forever."

Your heart speeds up.

"Would you like that, Darling?"

You close your eyes as you try to drift off, desperate to get away from this love obsessed demon.

"I would love that very much. I love you very much, Darling. And I hate that we can't be together during the day."

He tightens his grip on you.

"Which is why it's important for you to get your sleep. If you keep trying to stay up all night, then you'll leave me no choice but to never let you wake up."

The thought is terrifying-- being trapped in your sleep paralysis with this demon cuddling up to you constantly. And all the while, you'd be helpless to do anything at all.

"I love you so much, Darling," the demon coos as he presses a kiss onto your cheek. "Sweet dreams, my love."

[bunnyluvx]

spending rainy nights with you.

featuring: vlad dracula ţepeş x gn!reader.

summary: you're reading late at night, and your husband grows impatient waiting for you.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

tags: fluff | one-shot | vampire! reader | established marriage | clingy! vlad | you fight like an old married couple (you are an old married couple)

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! finally a new fanfic after 4 months. i'm really proud of this one so i hope you all like it! thank you to everyone who gave me advice, i really needed it. i appreciate you all so much! p.s i made the dividers featured, so please do not use them.

date started: 5:02PM, december 31st, 2024. date finished: 5:56PM, january 8th, 2025.

ib: @creativepromptsforwriting ♡ | wc: 2.9k | ao3

Darkness cradles the Earth in a loving embrace while the clouds cry. The moon cannot give its glow for beings below, and the stars are unable to watch the wonders of the night unfold for long without the clouds covering their view. It has been this way all evening, rain pouring down anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, stopping for around the same amount of time before starting again. The plants and animals of the forest are grateful for the sky's nourishment, and the clouds feel so encouraged by nature's gratitude that there are no signs of this pattern letting up anytime soon.

You appreciate the weather, too, for it is perfect for reading. At the moment, you find yourself sat in one of many libraries in the castle. The rocking chair that you find yourself in is rather comfortable, and the book in your hands pulls you further into its story with every word you follow. In your most comfortable nightwear with a blanket on your lap and a cardigan around your shoulders, not many other things come to mind when you try to think of a better way to spend your evening.

"I'll be to bed soon, dear. I'm almost finished with this chapter." Your voice breaks the comfortable silence and echoes across the wooden shelves enveloping you in your little corner to reach the ears of the rather large man that is making a very poor attempt to hide.

Standing not far from you, partially behind a bookcase, is your husband, Vlad Țepeș. You've felt his presence for the past few minutes, deciding that you would wait for him to speak first, but as quiet lingered in the air, you quickly realized that he wasn't going to announce himself. Your history with Vlad goes far beyond your marriage, for the two of you were some of the first vampires to ever walk the Earth. You were good friends for a very long time, and to save the novel-worthy story, you found each other after many years of being separated and romance fiercely set ablaze. No divine being could send you someone that's close in comparison to him, and he could say the same about you.

There are a few more moments of silence before you feel wind hastily rushing against the back of your neck, followed by large, strong arms tightly wrapping around your shoulders and cold skin resting right where the air had just wafted past you. Many would find it hard to believe that Count Dracula is a clingy lover, but this behavior is of no surprise to you. For as long as the two of you have been together, Vlad has always craved closeness. When he is without you for a certain period of time, he searches the castle to take his rightful place by your side once more. He didn't have to look for long tonight, for he knew exactly where you were.

You have been obsessed with this book that you found in the library, and while he is glad that you are enjoying it, it is taking your attention away from him. This is not something that pleases Vlad very deeply, so he is planning on making some changes tonight. "You've been in here for hours. Come to bed, now." His deep voice comes with a rumble from his chest, tone composed of a gentleness reserved for you alone.

His plea does not go unheard, for you know that all he wants is for you to snuggle up with him and doze into night's comfortable slumber together. Fondness takes hold of your heart as a small, tender smile curls onto your lips. It's difficult to refuse him such an innocent ask, but it is just as difficult to pull yourself away from the narrative in your hands, so you assure your beloved, "There isn't much left. You'll be alright a few minutes more."

This earns a disappointed groan from Vlad, burying his face further into your neck. "How much more is there?"

You tilt your head and take each remaining page between your fingers until you find the next chapter, and when you find your answer, you tell him, "Three pages."

Another groan grates from Vlad's throat, prolonged from the previous one as he nestles impossibly further into your skin with his large frame leaning against the back of the wooden chair. "Remind me why we sleep at night." Your darling requests, peaking up at your face.

"Hey, you don't have to sleep at night if you don't want to. It was your idea to change your sleep schedule so that we could match," You grant Vlad his request and recall the commitment that he made to sleeping throughout the night so that the two of you would be able to be together when the sun comes up.

You have preferred day to night for as long as you could remember. You have no reason for favoring daytime other than feeling that the Earth is so much more lively and bright. The plants are so vibrant beneath the sunlight, and there are so many things that you want to experience that you wouldn't be able to otherwise. Vlad always knew that you enjoyed day more than night, therefore adjusting your sleeping schedule accordingly; As a result, Vlad told you that he was going to start sleeping through the night too. At first, you were a bit worried about such a major change to his routine, but he insisted that he wanted to see the world through your eyes. This has been the arrangement ever since, and you cannot help but feel so smitten by the idea that he is willing to introduce such adjustments to his agenda in order to be with you.

With this transition in his life, Vlad knew that he was going to be groggy. While he has a substantial amount of energy compared to most vampires, this does not exempt him from needing the same amount of sleep. Have no doubt when he swears that there is nothing that he would change about dedicating himself to your lifestyle. You were right when you said that it was his choice, but unfortunately, it does not cure the fatigue that he often finds himself with when he stirs from his night's rest.

In attempt to adjust to the pattern he promised you, he likes going to bed early. Vlad tries to be tucked in anywhere from seven to nine P.M, and typically, you are by his side. You go to bed around the same time that he does, if not a little later, so when he was preparing himself for bed without you, he got worried. He figured that you would come to bed soon, so he laid down in attempt to fall asleep. As the hours ticked by with still no sign of you, he became restless, eventually making the decision to go look for you.

A defeated huff leaves Vlad's lips as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck again. One of many reasons why he fell in love with you was because of your smart mouth, and you pick the most bedeviling times to use it. "I know that," He mumbles lowly, peaking back up at you before resting his chin on your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know that I can't sleep without you. Please, come to bed." The count pleads again, sweeter this time.

You almost give in to his honeyed words, their innocent warmth daring to bewitch you. Nevertheless, you keep your composure while your eyes remain on the page before you, as they have throughout the entire conversation, "You will be just fine, dear. Only a few minutes longer."

Vlad has learned much about patience in his life, especially when he found you again. All good things come to those who wait is something that the dark-haired vampire has commonly watched play out, so normally, this wouldn't be the end of the world for him. He would do naught more than pout and refuse to detach himself from you until you came to bed. Tonight, however, Vlad will not be indulging in your distractions. Quick to stand, sending a blast of wind against your back once more, the count steps to your side before lifting you up into his arms. You yelp at the unexpected change of location and almost drop your book in the process, barely being able to catch it by its spine before holding it closed to your chest and leaning against your husband. "Vlad!!" You exclaim, laughter tickling its way from your lungs moments after.

"No. I have had enough. You are coming to bed with me." The vampire declares as he begins to make his way towards the library's exit.

"Vlad, put me down!!" You demand, only moderately annoyed with him as you flail in his grasp in attempt to escape, "Right now!!"

"Nope. So sorry, my dear, but your book is going to have to wait." Vlad proclaims, lips tilting upwards in a cheeky grin as his head turns to the side so that radiant red eyes can meet yours, "Your husband requires your attendance to the nightly snuggle session. You're late."

Any attempts you're making to escape the security of this man's arms are greatly failing you, so you decide to admit defeat now rather than later. His strength serves well, and while you are grateful for it most days, this is a good example of the cons of being married to one of Earth's most powerful vampires. He can, and will, wrangle you around whenever he pleases. Your bottom lip pokes out from its place as you lean against the man's chest, determined to uphold your front of unwavering stubbornness.

Amused by your dramatics, Vlad rolls his eyes playfully and allows them to close while a chuckle vibrates up his chest and past his lips. He opens them again to admire your sullen expression, musing, "Oh, come now. I can't be that bad of a cuddler since you're pitching a fit."

Your pout is quick to dispel from your face, a long sigh expelling from your lungs just afterwards. You avoid eye contact as you agree with him, "No, you're not."

Another chuckle escapes the mouth of your lover, a sound that you are secretly glad to hear that reassures you that he isn't taking you seriously. He draws you closer to his chest as he softly murmurs against your forehead before placing a kiss to it, "Don't worry, you can read more tomorrow."

You sulk and avoid eye contact for a bit before dropping the act. It wasn't much longer before you arrived into your shared bedroom, the door coming open to reveal a sight that has grown comforting to you over the years. The room is decorated primarily in red and black, as you both adore the colors, but there are a few distinct shades around too which sets apart your individual styles. Assorted trinkets rest across dressers and shelves from the many travels that you two have taken over the years, gifts and ornaments that you've made for each other through a plethora of shared anniversaries that always bring a smile to your face every time you pay mind to them.

Variously styled mirrors, decor, and paintings hang on the walls. There is no real purpose for the mirrors other than to enhance the elegance of the room, as they are too high for both you and Vlad to see anything from. The paintings, however, hold much importance to both of you. Each illustration that lays across your walls tells a story from one of your memorable moments together. Vlad personally hired the best artist he could find to perfectly capture your most treasured experiences, and whenever you are having a bad day, all you have to do is look up to brighten your spirits.

Your husband walks over to his side of the bed and holds you above the center before dropping you onto the soft surface, causing you to puff out an exhale before your laughter sings into the air. You lay yourself across the bed and remain still while Vlad adjusts the canopy draped over the wooden post by his pillow before he launches at you. With no time to move away, he plops over your stomach, the impact of his weight causing you to wheeze. You look down at him with an astonished grin on your lips as he lays in momentary silence before lifting himself off of you to settle onto you comfortably. You sit up and adjust all of the pillows behind you before leaning back against them, prying your book open again before it is promptly snatched out of your hands and slammed onto Vlad's nightstand. You laugh and try to reach for it, imploring for its return, but that is quickly shut-down by the vampire hovering above you, "No. Sincerest apologies. You'll get it back tomorrow."

Slowly, he stations himself on top of you with his head against your abdomen just under your chest. He is mindful of your body language to ensure your comfort, and when he descends his full weight with no awkward shifting or complaints from you after a few minutes, he concludes your contentment with the position and nestles his head against you with closed eyes. Your arms lift as he gets himself cozy, and once he relaxes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders while your fingers begin to comb through his hair. A smile graces the vampire's lips as your touch serves to soothe all worries away from his mind.

You cannot stop the smile that grows onto your own face as you watch his lips curl up. No soul, alive or dead, can say that they have experienced Vlad Țepeș' joy the way that you do, and for this, you are grateful. Vlad has spent so much of his life keeping up a cold, merciless profile for all vampires that dare to step to him, but charades with you are unnecessary. All of the walls that he spent centuries building are torn to shreds in your presence, and no matter his methods, they could never withstand your blinding iridescence. There is comfort in your arms that he has never found in another, and this tranquility that he has the luxury of being the only person to experience is something that he holds close to his heart. This is not something that you do knowingly, for it is who you are. You are a constant source of peace that quells the ever-roaring fire in his soul to a quiet crackle. You are what inspires him to be curious about the world, you keep his thirst for knowledge abundant with your differing perspectives, and he firmly believes that your ideas could change the world.

It's truly a shame that your eyes cannot convey the amount of love that you hold for this man, but they are doing their best. Your gaze displays your overwhelming adoration for him, and he surely feels how loved he is. When you look at him, Vlad knows that he is admired in every way he never dreamed of. Your eyes do not have to meet for him to know that you look at him like he is the greatest thing in the world, and that is all you could ever wish for. You finally decide to break the silence after watching him rest for a bit, teasing him, "Is this going to be your spot for the night?"

Any thoughts that Vlad was having before you embraced him have completely vanished. Now, it's just you, him, and your warm bed. All he can muster out is a low, "Mhm."

You giggle as you recognize his sleepiness and lift your legs slightly, asking, "Then can we at least get under the covers so that we don't freeze to death?"

A lazy, amused smirk curls onto Vlad's face at your suggestion, his nostrils flaring in a huff. "I'm not even sure that we can freeze," He admits.

You chuckle and move your hands from his hair onto his back to pat it. "Well, I don't want to risk finding out. So come on."

An agitated groans leaves your comfy husband before he begrudgingly eases himself off of you so that you could get under the covers. The two of you adjust the pillows to their normal spaces and you shake off your cardigan to toss it aside before you slip your legs beneath the sheets. A corner of the sheets lay open, and you lift them up to welcome him inside. Vlad's lips form a gentle smile, and his eyes soften affectionately at the sight before he climbs into the covers and rests himself back on top of you. Your fingers return to threading through his hair, a blissful sigh respiring from his lungs as he resumes a comfortable position. You look down at the top of his head with the same benevolent expression that you wear every time that you look at him, and your voice comes out soft when you say, "Goodnight, my dearest. I love you."

The words that you tell him every night are words that he could never tire of hearing. When you say it, he knows that you mean it, and it fills him with ease to know that when you wake up in the morning, he will get to hear you say it again. "Goodnight, my darling. I love you too." Vlad returns the sentiment, falling into an inescapable slumber with you not far behind him.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[oaksgrove]

Welcome Gift

Pairing: König x Reader

Synopsis: After moving to Austria to live with König, you find yourself overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of a new country. From navigating the bustling streets to adjusting to the rhythm of life in a different culture, your nerves are stretched thin. But König, ever thoughtful and patient, is determined to make you feel loved and at home in every way possible. 

Warnings: none?

word count: 985

Salzburg streets bustled with a quiet charm, the winter air crisp as you and König walked hand in hand. Snow dusted the cobblestones, and warm lights glowed from shop windows, painting the city in hues of gold and white. It was picturesque, but your nerves were a jumble. Moving to Austria to live with König had been a leap of faith, and while you loved him deeply, adjusting to life here was proving to be a challenge.

You found yourself clutching König’s hand a little tighter than usual as you walked. Everything felt so new—unfamiliar faces, different languages, even the way people carried themselves. There was a rhythm to the city, it wasn’t unfriendly, just one you hadn’t quite learned yet, and while it was beautiful, it also left you feeling adrift in an ocean of the unknown.

“You’re quiet,” König said softly, glancing down at you. His Austrian accent, once a novelty when you first met, had become a comforting melody in your life.

“Just… taking it all in,” you murmured, giving him a small smile.

König slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. His height meant he had to dip his head to meet your gaze, and his piercing blue eyes held a wealth of affection. “If it’s too much, we can take it slow,” he said, his large hand brushing softly against yours. “You’ve already done so much by coming here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his warm smile and the steady reassurance in his gaze stopped you. He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Let me spoil you today, ja?”

Before you could respond, König guided you toward a shop nestled between two taller buildings. Its display window glittered with jewelry—delicate chains, rings, and gemstones arranged with care. You blinked up at him, your brow furrowing.

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you,” he said, holding the door open for you. “A proper welcoming gift. Something beautiful to match you.”

You blinked, cheeks flushed at his words, your mouth opening and closing as you searched for a response. A welcoming gift? You’d thought the flowers he brought home every day were already more than enough, but König clearly had other ideas.

The interior of the shop was even more charming than the display outside—polished wood counters, velvet-lined cases, and a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. A kindly older woman greeted König, her tone familiar and warm as she spoke in German. He responded easily, his voice dipping into the fluid rhythms of his native tongue.

You caught most of the exchange—your German was decent, though far from fluent—but nuances still slipped through your grasp. König noticed your tentative expression and gave you a soft smile. “This shop,” he explained, switching back to English, “is special. My mother, my sisters, even my grandmother—they’ve all come here over the years. It’s where my family buys things for… important moments.”

Your heart skipped at the significance of that statement. “König, that’s—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now, let’s find something for you.”

He took his time examining the displays, occasionally asking the shopkeeper questions. Eventually, his gaze landed on a pair of earrings— a delicate silver design, teardrop-shaped with a subtle shimmer that wasn’t too flashy. Beside them was a matching necklace, simple yet elegant, with a single pendant that mirrored the earrings’ design. 

Turning to you, he gestured to them. “These. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. “But König, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to have something from here. So that when you wear it, you’ll remember how much it means to me that you’re here.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless, and before you knew it, you were leaving the shop with a small, carefully wrapped box in your hands, almost too much to bear. You turned to König, your voice tentative. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” he said simply, taking your hand in his as he led you back into the bustling streets.

Later that day, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the apartment as König emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. On it was your favorite pastry, carefully chosen from a bakery he’d insisted on visiting earlier. He set it down in front of you along with a cup of coffee and a small stack of German vocabulary cards, each one handwritten with neat, blocky letters.

“I know your German is good,” he said, almost shyly, his towering form seeming a little smaller in the soft light of the kitchen. “But I thought these might help with the little things.”

You picked up one of the cards, your eyes skimming over his careful handwriting. “You made these?”

He nodded. “I want you to feel comfortable. To feel… like this is home.”

Your chest tightened at the depth of his thoughtfulness. “König,” you said softly, setting the card down to reach for his hand. “You’re spoiling me.”

He chuckled, crouching beside you so that you were eye level, his large hands cradling yours gently. “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile warm. “But I don’t mind. I want you to know how much you mean to me. You’ve made my life so much better just by being in it. Now that you’re here, I want to make sure you feel loved and safe every day.”

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, unable to find the words to express how much his actions meant to you. Instead, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was a quiet reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

König smiled against your lips, his hands tightening around yours. “Welcome home, meine Liebe,” he murmured.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. Mentions of suggestive things (cum, blowjobs, etc.), kissing, and touching

A/N: Pizza is romantic. Argue with the wall.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P15: Mini Fucking Pizza

This is a mess. Chris wanted to take me out on a date—and he did. 

We’re currently at a small diner, tucked away in a corner booth, a reflective napkin holder in the center of the table between us as we stare at each other with wide eyes. 

I feel a small, clammy hand reach over the booth wall, knotting into my hair again. 

This fucking kid won’t stop. 

And that’s not even the worst part—it's practically a family reunion here. The place is packed full, filled with screaming toddlers, overly excited adults, and stressed staff. 

Chris winces, shaking his head as he looks down at the table, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lets out a deep sigh. 

I lean forward. My hands detach the sticky hands in my hair, my jaw clicking as I notice an odd vibrance of red in my hair. 

Ketchup. I have fucking ketchup in my hair. 

I hate kids. 

“What is that?” Chris asks, looking up with a disgusted expression as his hands reach out to my hair. 

There’s a large tangle now. Loose hairs bundle in a matted tangle, a sticky residue making my eyes water with frustration as I yank at the knot. 

A groan of defeat pushes through my lips. My hands cover my face as I try to take a deep breath, slapping down on the table at the sudden burst of another child’s crying tantrum echoing through the diner. 

We haven’t even gotten our orders taken yet and it’s almost been an hour. 

Looking over at Chris, I can tell he’s aggravated. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, the hollowness making his cheekbones pop in the warm yellow lights from above our booth. His fingers are tapping on the table as he looks around the restaurant, his eyes darting to every corner as if a waitress will pop up any minute. 

“Chris,” I say, reaching my hand out to cover his own. The tapping of his fingers halts. He stares up at me with apologetic eyes, his face falling flat. “-I don’t think they have enough staff for us.” 

“No, no,” he tuts, shaking his head furiously at my observation, “-they’ll come, they just…” he sighs, rolling his lips together. 

Chris curves his head to look even further around the diner, his shoulders slumping as he stares down at the table with defeat. 

I rub my thumb on the back of his palm. My eyes blink slowly as I stare up at him. “Why don’t we go somewhere else?” I ask. His lips turn into a subtle frown. 

I don’t know why, but this diner means something to him. He was so insistent on bringing me here, making sure we got the corner booth. 

“Or,” his eyes perk towards me as I speak, “-why don’t we go back to your house and make food?” I suggest.

His lips twist towards the side as he contemplates the offer. He nods briefly, clutching my hand that rests on top of his, holding it firmly as he guides me back towards the entrance of the diner.

The quiet wind makes my chest feel light, the cries and chatter of the family inside the restaurant muffled by the door as it shuts behind us. Chris clutches my hand tighter, pulling me directly to his side as we stroll down the sidewalk. 

Neither of our houses are far. It was maybe a seven minute walk, the only inconvenience in the way being an uneven slab of cement that I tripped over on our way here. Luckily, Chris caught me. His hands swarmed around my waist before dropping to my hand, but he never let go after that. 

But he’s holding my hand now too. 

Except, he grabbed it himself, not out of reaction to catch me, he just wants to. And I want it too. I like the way his hand slots in mine, his fingers intertwined and clutching my own gently. 

His steps are sluggish. The sun is starting to sink towards the horizon, a cotton candy sky staring down at us as we walk further along the sidewalk. 

Leaning, I bump my shoulder with his, squeezing his hand. “You good?” The question comes out with a light tone, a slight laugh falling from my lips as I watch him drag his feet on the pavement. 

His shoulders falling with a deep sigh makes my face fall. He looks hurt. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… just really wanted to take you there.” 

Sadness reeks from his voice. His hand gets looser clasping around mine, his eyes staring towards the ground as we approach his front door. 

My eyes furrow as he drops my hand, pulling out his keys from his pocket. Something’s wrong. It’s a diner, the food can’t be that good. 

Chris unlocks the door. He places his hand on the small of my back, urging me inside as he follows behind me. 

Turning around, I watch as he shakes his head, murmuring to himself. My eyes squint as the question begins to roll off my lips, “Are you—”

Chris closes the door, the lock echoing as his fingers hesitant on the metal. “I’m fine.” he remarks, cutting me off. 

My lips seal shut as I kick off my shoes, neatly placing them on the mat as Chris follows the same actions. Except, he doesn’t bother straightening his sneakers. Half the shoe is hanging onto the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“Let’s see what we even have,” he mentions, walking towards the kitchen as I mimic his steps. I lean against the kitchen island. My eyes furrow as he scurries through the pantry, the fridge, and the freezer. 

He finally pulls out something from the freezer, my eyes bulging from the sight. 

A mini fucking pizza. 

His mini fucking pizzas. 

“Do you want pizza? It’s either that or cereal, I think.” 

The words wash over my body like a swift gust of wind. I’m too busy staring, trying to pull my jaw off the floor as I look at the gold in his clutch. 

He doesn’t share those—not even with Matt. 

Am I really that special?

“I–uh, are you sure? I know you don’t like sharing your mini pizzas.” I point, twisting my hands together as he starts to press buttons on the oven. 

“I’m sure. But—but don’t tell Matt, alright?” he tuts, squinting his eyes at me as he pulls the frozen pizzas onto a sheet pan. 

Oh my god. 

I feel like I just got a positive pregnancy test with this kind of secret weighing on my shoulders. He’s giving me one of his mini pizzas—he’s giving me something he shunned his own brother for taking one time. 

Are we married? 

Should I suck him off? 

I feel like I should sink to my knees right here, gag on it and let him cum all over my face.

“Hello?” 

I snap out of my daze, looking up to see Chris staring down at me with a subtle grin. His hand swarms around my waist as he steps closer, his eyes darting into mine as I swallow thickly. The heat of his touch is spreading. A warm tingle travels over my skin, radiating from his hand as he squeezes me closer to him. 

“I—uh, what?” I ask, my face burning as he laughs down at me. 

Chris shakes his head, nudging over to the oven. I see the slight outline of the pizzas through the oven glass. 

Geez. How long have I been lost in my own head?

“Well,” he starts, laughing as he uses his free hand to brush my hair behind my ear, “I was asking if you wanted to sit on the couch while we wait, but you seem to be daydreaming, huh?” he teases, licking over his teeth. 

I flinch as I bite into the side of my cheek a little too hard. My hands unravel as I hesitantly lay my palms on his chest, staring as I flatten the fabric of his shirt, peeling off invisible lint. 

I can’t look at him, not when I know he’s staring at me like that—like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. 

And in all honesty, I’m still thinking about the intrusive thought. 

God. 

I could imagine it—the way he’d hold my hair, desperate noises falling from his lips, moaning for me as I made him—-

His hand brushing my hair back falls down, cupping my jaw as he guides my chin upwards. My cheeks flourish with vibrance, my lips rolling together as he squints his eyes at me. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he interrogates. I shrug, my chest tight as I watch his tongue poke into the side of his cheek. 

“Just… excited,” I mention, cringing as I watch his brow lift suggestively, “-for mini pizzas.” 

___

I feel full. It’s not even just from the mini pizzas either. My heart feels so content. 

After cleaning up the pans from the pizzas—well, after watching Chris clean everything up while he forced me to sit on the barstool and do nothing—we decided to go on a walk. Just us two, down to the park. 

My shoes brush against the worn dirt beneath me, the swings creaking from the subtle breeze slipping through the surrounding trees. Chris sits next to me on the wooden bench. His hands are fiddling in his lap, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from touching me. 

“Ugh,” I groan, shifting closer to the edge of the cold metal bench, the rough sensation of peeling rust against my bare skin making me cringe. 

Once again, I find myself regretting my outfit choice. But I really wanted to wear a skirt. The memory of Chris pulling my legs into his lap the first time I wore a skirt in his house makes my stomach churn with excitement. 

“Do you wanna—just… come here,” he directs, patting his lap as he holds his arms at the side of his thighs. 

Oh.

He wants me to sit in his lap.

I go to object, feeling bad as I try to adjust myself to sit more comfortably. 

It’s my fault for choosing such an impractical outfit. 

Before a singular word can slip, Chris gives me a pointed look. “You look miserable,” he states, patting his lap once more. “Just… come here. I—I want you in my lap, anyway,” he mumbles, his voice getting quieter, almost turning into a whisper. 

Slowly, I shift to stand in front of him. I twist my hands together, my feet swiping against the ground. “Are you sure? I—umph,” I gasp, the feeling of his hands tugging my onto his lap catching me off guard completely. 

“There,” he rasps, his chin resting on my shoulder as he gazes up at me. My spine relaxes as he pulls my back against his chest more, his warmth radiating onto me making my eyes blink slower. “Comfy?” he asks. 

Swallowing, I nod firmly. He spares a smile up towards me, his fingers caressing over the tops of my bare thighs, shielding my skin from the wind. 

“Good,” he breathes. 

It’s a good thing I’m sitting, because if I were standing, my knees would buckle from the way he’s looking at me right now. The glint in his eyes is refreshing—exciting yet comforting. 

“Chris?” I question, my lips twitching as he hums in response, “Why did you wanna take me to that diner so bad?” 

His hands tighten on my thighs, falling limp as he lets out a shaky breath. “I… I wanted you to know that I’m… trying,” he sighs. 

I stare down at him from the corner of my eye. His arms wrap completely around me, tugging me flush against him as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. 

“My mom—she used to take us there. I guess—I guess I just wanted you to know I want… more. I don’t want you just in my room or shit like that, I just—I just want you.” 

Oh. 

His words make my eyes soften, my lips tugging into a slight pout as I place my hands over his, letting him rock me in his hold as he hugs me tightly. “And, you’re gonna be mad, but I, um—”

My body freezes. “Why am I gonna be mad, Chris? That’s so sweet,” I announce, tilting my head to lay on top of his, the smell of his hair making my eyes flutter shut with relief. 

“I didn’t mean to, but, I—I overheard you and Matt talking about your last relationship,” he explains, his jaw clicking against my shoulder as he squeezes me a little bit tighter. 

“What?” I breathe out, my eyes squinting as I stare towards the sparse grass below. 

Chris gently presses his cheek against my shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to snoop, I promise. I just, I just overheard when I went to go get a Pepsi, but I turned back around as soon as I—-”

“What did you hear?” I interrogate, cringing as I realize I’m squeezing his hands, trying to ground myself as anxiety pulses through my veins. 

“Enough.” 

Fuck. He heard something—he knows more than he should. 

“But,” he starts, my body relaxing as I feel his fingers caress gently over my ribcage, “-don’t worry, okay? I… I care too much. I’ll never let you feel like that with me, alright? Never.” 

My body falls limp against him. Contentment floods over my skin, slipping in with each breath of air. It feels safe—secure. There’s no room for doubt, not when his words ‘too much’ echo in my mind. 

“Okay,” I hum, leaning my head backwards, resting on his shoulder as I stare up at the twinkling stars. 

Chris places a soft kiss on my cheek. My eyes drift over to him, my stomach dropping as I watch his eyes dart between my own. 

“I hope that doesn’t scare you,” he rasps, his voice rough and low. 

My lips twitch, a subtle shake of my head making his shoulders slump with a deep breath. 

“Honestly?” I announce, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb as he stares at me intently, “That makes me feel… good,” I whisper. 

Chris licks over his lips, his eyes brightening as he gleams down at me with excitement. “Yeah?” he questions, his smile widening as I nod, “Good.” 

[leth-writes]

hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 8/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 8 :

Texts messages :  

Lando:  Hi, I hope you sleep well :) So I have an idea Tomorrow. Noon. Wear something casual and comfortable. I’ll pick you up. 

Ariana:  Where are we going? 

Lando:  Surprise. 

Ariana:  Is it loud? 

Lando:  Possibly. 

Ariana:  Dangerous? 

Lando:  …Debatable. 

Ariana:  You’re making me nervous. 

Lando:  Good. See you at twelve, ballerina. 

The next day, Ariana stood just outside her building, dressed in blue large jeans, a pale beige oversized sweater, and her favorite white sneakers. 

She checked the time. 

11:59. 

Then she heard it before she saw it. The purr of an engine, low, velvety, almost feline. She turned toward the sound just as the car pulled up in front of her. 

She blinked. 

Lando stepped out from the driver’s side, sunglasses on, hair tousled, wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans, his grin wide and boyish. 

“Told you it was casual,” he said, gesturing to the car. 

Ariana stared. “Lando…” 

“I know,” he said proudly. “She’s a beauty.” 

She circled the car slowly, fingers trailing just above the paint without touching it. “It looks like it belongs in a museum.” 

“That’s the idea,” he said. “It’s a Lambo Miura” 

Ariana let out a slow breath, clearly impressed. “Okay… it’s stunning.” 

“And it’s ours for the day,” he said, opening the passenger door with a smirk. “Your chariot awaits.” 

She gave him a suspicious glance. “I’m starting to worry about this surprise.” 

“You’ll love it,” he said, offering his hand. “Maybe.” 

The drive was smooth, except when it wasn’t. 

Lando didn’t drive recklessly, he was surprisingly in control but every now and then, he’d press a little harder on the gas just to see her flinch and grab the door handle, laughing at her own reactions. 

“Relax,” he teased. “I’ve got you.” 

“You say that like it’s comforting,” she muttered. 

He looked over, still grinning. “Admit it. You like it.” 

“I’ll admit I like the car.” 

“I’ll take that as a win.” 

When they finally pulled into a lot lined with cones and engine noise, Ariana’s heart dropped. 

Rows of small, aggressive-looking go-karts idled at the far end of a makeshift track. Flags fluttered in the wind. Helmets hung from hooks. Rubber tire barriers stacked around corners. 

Lando turned the engine off and faced her with a grin too wide to be trusted. 

“Surprise.” 

She stared. “Karting?” 

“Yup.” 

“You brought me to drive?” 

He nodded, pleased with himself. “You said you wanted to see my world.” 

“I thought your world involved… like, watching you drive. Not putting me behind the wheel!” 

“It’s safe,” he promised, stepping out and walking around to open her door. “Controlled. Mostly painless.” 

“I hate driving.”

He blinked. “You what?”

“I hate driving,” she repeated, folding her arms. “I don’t even have a license.”

Lando stared at her, jaw slightly dropped. “Wait. Wait—what?”

“I never got it,” she shrugged, unbothered. “Didn’t want to. Don’t like driving. It stresses me out.”

“You’re telling me…” He pointed at her like she’d just committed a crime. “You let me think you were a fully licensed, car-competent adult this whole time?!”

“We barely know each other!” she said, laughing. “You didn’t ask!”

He looked positively betrayed. “This feels like a major breach of trust.”

“I just don’t like driving. I prefer being the passenger,” she said casually, crossing her arms like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Of course you are. The ultimate passenger princess.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?!”

He held his hands up, already laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean—like—you’ve got the vibe, you know? You like comfort, good music, someone else doing the work—wait, I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“Unbelievably,” she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Lando winced. “Okay, okay, let me rephrase.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

He stepped closer, tilting his head just a little. “What I meant was… you can be my passenger princess. Professionally speaking, it’s a very exclusive role.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but charming,” he said, offering her an helmet. “Admit it.”

She snatched it from his hands. “I’ll admit you’re lucky I didn’t walk away after that comment.”

“Still get in the kart, though,” he grinned.

She eyed the helmet like it was a medieval torture device. “I don’t know about this.” 

He leaned in, eyes warm. “Just one lap. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. You can scream, curse me, cry, whatever. Just try it.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “If I die, it’s on you.” 

“You won’t die.” 

“Not comforting.” 

“You’ll look amazing in the suit,” he added with a wink. 

Ten minutes later, Ariana stood in a full racing suit, red, tailored surprisingly well to her figure and helmet in hand. The boots were clunky, the gloves thick.  

“You look so cool right now,” Lando said, adjusting her helmet strap. 

“I feel like I’m dressed for combat.” 

“You kind of are.” 

He brought her to one of the smaller, beginner-friendly karts. “Okay. Foot pedals: right is gas, left is brake. No clutch. No gear shifts. You steer like a normal car, and that’s it. Think of it like a really fast bumper car.” 

She gave him a flat look. “That is not reassuring.” 

Lando climbed into the kart next to her, already grinning through his helmet. “Ready?” 

“No.” 

“Perfect. Let’s go.” 

The first lap was chaos. 

Ariana’s kart rolled forward slowly, her hands tight on the wheel, her eyes wide with panic. Lando drifted ahead, spinning playfully, yelling back, “You’re doing amazing.” 

“Lando, I swear to God—!” 

She turned a corner, barely, nearly clipping a cone. 

“Just a bit more gas!” he called. “You’re driving like a grandma.” 

“Shut up!” 

He laughed so hard he nearly missed the next turn. 

Despite her panic, despite the protests, despite the few times she almost did crash into the barrier, Ariana finished the lap. 

And then another. 

By the fourth, she wasn’t terrified anymore. 

Still nervous. But not terrified. 

And when she finally pulled into the finish area, her cheeks were flushed pink, her braid coming loose, and her eyes shining behind the helmet. 

She climbed out of the kart with shaky legs, and Lando was waiting for her, helmet off, grinning like a man completely in love with his own prank. 

She handed her helmet to him, breathless. 

“That. Was. Horrible.” 

He smirked. “You survived.” 

“Barely.” 

“You did great.” 

“I hate you.”  

“And yet…” he shrugged. “You came.” 

“I must be out of my mind.” 

He stepped close again, brushing a piece of hair from her cheek. 

“You like my world a little now?” 

She didn’t answer right away. 

“Maybe.” 

“Enough to do it again?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

He grinned. “You will.” 

And maybe she would. 

Because for someone who hated danger and speed, she’d never felt more alive. 

The drive back from the karting track felt quieter. 

Not in a bad way. Just softer. Ariana was tucked into the passenger seat of the vintage car, legs curled up beneath her, one hand lightly resting near the gear shift, her other elbow leaning on the door as she stared out at the fading golden sky. 

Lando watched her from the corner of his eye. 

“You’re staring,” she said without looking. 

“I can’t help it,” he replied. “I was just re-thinking on how you were a total natural back in the track.” 

“Natural disaster, maybe.” 

He laughed. “I’ve never seen someone brake before every straight line.” 

“I enjoy caution!” 

“Well, I enjoy how you almost crashed into the tire barrier with your eyes closed.” 

“I didn’t close my eyes.” 

“You did.” 

She finally turned to him, eyes narrowed, lips twitching. “You’re lucky I like you, Norris.” 

“Very lucky,” he murmured under his breath. 

They stopped for food, he let her pick, since she was the one who’d nearly had a heart attack on the track.

She chose something cozy: Thai take-out. Spring rolls, warm noodles, coconut curry. Food you could eat on a couch with bare feet and music playing in the background. 

By the time they reached her flat, the sky was ink-dark, and the city had grown quieter. 

She looked at him at the door and, without much ceremony, said, “You’re coming up, right?” 

Lando blinked. “Am I?” 

She tilted her head. “You bought me food. It’s the least I can do.” 

He didn’t need convincing. 

Ariana’s flat was as precise and beautiful as she was. 

Cream walls, soft amber lighting, wooden floors, and books stacked neatly in corners. Her throw pillows were perfectly arranged, and a few candle sat on the side table. There was a record player in the corner, dozens of vinyls organised by color by the side. 

They kicked off their shoes, settled in with the food on her low coffee table, curled against each other on the couch. 

Ariana sat cross-legged, chopsticks in hand, hair loosely tied up now. 

“So,” she said, mouth full of noodles, “I’m plotting my revenge.” 

He raised a brow. “Revenge?” 

“For the public humiliation you subjected me to today. I screamed in front of small children. They laughed, Lando.” 

“You screamed like a cartoon character.” 

“You’ll pay for it.” 

He grinned. “Can’t wait.” 

She nudged his knee with hers. “You’re enjoying this far too much.” 

“I’m enjoying you,” he said easily. 

Her smile faltered, just a little, and then softened into something quieter. “You’re smooth.” 

“I’m honest.” 

They kept eating, sipping warm tea she made in beautiful porcelain cups. The conversation stayed light at first : bad childhood stories, movies they loved, strange foods they hated, until, slowly, things began to shift. 

Lando leaned in, resting one elbow behind her on the couch. Ariana had turned slightly to face him, her ankle brushing his shin, her fingers brushing his when she reached for the spring rolls. 

Neither of them pulled away. 

His eyes dropped to her mouth a few times. She caught him. She didn’t look away. 

And then a thump sounded in the hallway. 

Lando jumped. Ariana didn’t flinch. 

A moment later, something small and cloud-like sauntered around the corner with the kind of slow, imperious grace that said this space is mine. 

Lando blinked. 

A white cat, pure white, fur like silk, tail curled and fluffy, strolled into the room, paused, and stared directly at him with ice-blue eyes like twin moons. 

“Oh,” Ariana said casually, “that’s Aria.” 

“Aria?” he repeated slowly, already shifting slightly away on the couch. 

“My cat,” she said. “Gift from my brother, he names her after me saying we kinda look alike.” 

The cat stared at him. Judging. Silently threatening. 

“She looks like she’s planning something,” Lando whispered, frozen. 

“She always looks like that.” 

“I—okay, not to be dramatic, but I think she hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you.” A beat. “She just hates everyone she doesn't know.” 

“That’s not comforting.” 

Ariana laughed, standing to collect their plates. “You’ll survive. Probably.” 

Aria hopped onto the couch the second she stood. And, with horrifying calculation, curled into Lando’s lap. 

He stiffened like someone had just placed a sleeping cobra on his legs. 

“She’s… sitting on me.” 

“Yes, means she likes you.” 

“She’s blinking very slowly. Is that like… a threat?” 

Ariana returned, smiling. “It means she trusts you.” 

“Oh god.” 

He looked down at the cat again, still unsure. She looked up at him with royal indifference, blinked once, and nestled deeper into his lap. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m scared to move.” 

Ariana curled closer, pulling a throw blanket over her. “For the record, she normally doesn’t sit on strangers.” 

He cleared his throat, voice lower now. “For the record… I’m kinda scared of cats.” 

Ariana turned toward him, surprised and then, a small, amused smile curved her lips. “Seriously?” 

“They’re unpredictable,” he said, eyes still on Aria like she might bite at any moment. “They stare at you like they know your deepest fears. And then they pounce. Or leave. Or judge you for breathing too loud.” 

She laughed, a real laugh, full and light. “And yet you let her sit in your lap.” 

“I’m trying to be brave,” he muttered. “For you.” 

Her expression softened instantly. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Lando.” 

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at her now, “but I kind of want to be.” 

She went quiet at that, the smile still on her lips, but something gentler now behind her eyes. Her fingers brushed his arm lightly, grounding. 

“Ariana,” he said softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to kiss me again?” 

She didn’t answer. 

She leaned in instead, her hand rising to his neck, her lips brushing his like something remembered. 

This kiss wasn’t like the one at the museum. 

This one was slower… deeper… heavier. 

His hands found her waist instinctively, tugging her closer, until suddenly she was straddling him, her cat long forgotten as her paws thudded to the floor in quiet protest. Her knees bracketed his thighs, her fingers tangled into his curls. He gasped softly against her mouth, and she swallowed the sound like a secret. 

She kissed like she danced: with precision, with purpose, with fire just under the surface. 

They stayed tangled for what felt like forever, mouths learning, hands exploring, until they pulled back, breathless, her forehead resting against his. 

He looked at her. “Ariana.” 

“You can call me Ari.” 

He blinked. “Yeah?” 

She nodded, smiling gently. “All my close friends do.” 

He tilted his head. “Just friends?” 

Her eyes gleamed. “You’re more than that.” 

His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. “And only close people call you Ari?” 

“Very close,” she whispered. 

He kissed her again, not rushed, not hungry, just soft and sure. A promise. 

“I feel special,” he murmured. 

“You are,” she said, lips brushing his. “You really are.” 

Behind them, on the armrest, Aria stretched and yawned, unimpressed by romance, but silently approving nonetheless. 

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @esw1012, @lilyofthevalley-09, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oral Festivities - John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: roommate au, flirting, gift giving, swearing, friends to lovers, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, dirty talk

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Face Sitting)

Stuck at home on Christmas Eve, your roommate, Johnny, surprises you with a gift he’s been wanting to give you.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

“All alone this year? Thought you were visiting family?”

You turn your attention away from the television and glance at your roommate, Johnny. It takes everything in you to keep your jaw in place.

There is no reason for a man to be this attractive. Johnny is freshly showered, his skin still speckled with a few spare drops of water. His dark hair is damp, the usual mohawk he sports combed to the side. The woodsy scent of his aftershave drifts around you, filling your lungs, and enveloping you in a tight hug.

Johnny grins, tipping his head to the side to rub his ear with the corner of the towel. "Did you hear me, love?"

Hells, why does he have to go and address you like that?

Every part of you tingles from the crown of your head to the space between your thighs. Your gaze roams downward, fueling the thought of licking up those droplets of water right off his pectorals.

"Plans were cancelled." Your voice cracks slightly and you cough to clear it. "Not going anywhere."

Johnny's face falls slightly. "Sorry to hear that." His handsome smile returns quickly. "Looks like it's just us."

Oh my God.

"Looks like it," you reply, heart thundering in your chest.

The snow outside is large and fluffy, blanketing everything it touches. There is little movement except for an occasional car braving the cold. It's unlikely that either of you are leaving this apartment anytime soon.

Johnny rubs at his other ear and plops down on the couch beside you, extending one arm across the back of the sofa. Other than the towel he’s holding, he's in plain black gym shorts. Every muscle is on display, and it has to be deliberate.

Johnny settles, the towel draped over one leg. "Is that friend of yours coming over?" he asks slowly.

You frown. "Which friend?"

Johnny side-eyes you. "The guy."

"Oh." You lick your lips. "No."

That guy. The casual hook-up. The guy that didn't "want to put a label" on the relationship. Really, he means nothing. The orgasms aren't even worth all the messages left on read.

Johnny grunts. "Did he get you anything?"

You laugh but it feels hollow. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

"Good."

"Good?"

"We're friends, no?" Johnny leans in, and you suddenly realize just how large and broad he is.

"Roommates," you reply softly.

"But friends?"

"Yes," you breathe.

Maybe more if you're open.

Johnny's grin is wide but not malicious. It's almost...flirty? No. That can't be. Sure, he moved in just six months ago, but that hardly accounts for anything. He's a responsible adult, and respectful of your space, but interested in you?

You think back, trying to rummage through every interaction. Old memories resurface, and you suddenly begin questioning every word and gesture. All those times he placed his hand on your lower back, of the pet names you originally dismissed as nothing, to the tight hugs when your jerk of situationship left you hanging.

How many times do you think about Johnny in a given day? About him being a possibility?

If you’re truly being honest, it’s far too many to count.

But that’s entirely one-sided. You don’t know his mind.

"I got you something," he says, voice a bit husky.

Johnny's timbre does something to you. Without thought, you scoot a fraction closer to him on the couch. Johnny matches the movement, his head dipping slightly. It's far too intimate.

"A present?" you ask, adding a bit of tease to your tone, your thighs rubbing against each other as your pussy clenches.

Johnny's cheeks darken slightly, a bit of pink kissing his skin. You're completely done for. There's nothing you won't give him.

Johnny cradles the side of your neck, thumb resting just shy of your lower lip. "One I've wanted to give for a while, love. If you want it."

If you want it.

"I'll take it."

Johnny's reply is a pleased sound that comes deep in his throat. Closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours. It's soft. Sweet. Not dominating or possessive, but a promise. If you let him in, if you keep going, maybe this might work out.

"Another?" he asks against your lips.

"Yes,” you sigh, wanting to breathe him in.

This time when Johnny kisses you, it isn't sweet. Each kiss is possessive, a needy thing that sends your insides twisting. His hand shifts position, moving to the back of your neck, grasping tightly. Reaching out, you place one hand against his firm chest, the hair there scratching your skin.

Fuck it. You need to assert some desire, to show Johnny that you'd enjoy more than just kisses.

Pushing on him, you shove Johnny back against the sofa, straddling his legs to settle in his lap. His smile is knowing—cocky. And then the two of you are right back to, all moving hands and desperate mouths.

Johnny lightly bites your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, pulling a little moan from you. The tip of his tongue briefly brushes against it, and then he's teasing, wanting entrance. His hands roam, dragging and digging at your clothes.

One of Johnny's hands returns to the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers holding tight, dragging you away from his mouth.

"I've been wanting to do that for months."

"Months?" you ask, a little dazed.

"Months," he growls, leaning in to run his lips over your neck. He breathes you in, savoring your scent. "And that wasn't the gift."

"It's not?" Your question is more a gasp of air.

"No." Johnny lifts his head.

"What is it?"

Johnny presses his lips to your ear as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms. "To taste you."

He guides them past your hips and over your ass before pausing at your thighs. Just another pull and they'll be halfway to your knees.

"Johnny," you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Can I taste you, love?” Johnny’s lips brush against your cheek. “Will you spread those pretty thighs for me?" With a slight twist of his wrist, Johnny’s hand delves between your legs, the tips of his fingers brushing over your exposed clit. “Want to put my mouth here.”

His other arm hooks around your back. With a quick adjustment, Johnny goes onto his back with you straddling his lap.

“Right here, love.” Johnny gestures at his face. “Come sit on it.”

"But—but I'll—"

"You'll what? Crush me? Suffocate me?" He chuckles. "Promise you won't, love." Johnny leans back, head resting against the pillow. Lifting his hands, he gestures for you to get closer. "Come here to me."

As you go up onto your knees, Johnny helps you out of your pajama bottoms, leaving your lower-half completely bare. Just as you start to settle back into his lap, Johnny promptly grasps your thighs squeezing.

“Face. Now.”

With a strength that surprises you, Johnny drags you up the rest of his body, settling you down on his face without ceremony. Your hands go out to steady yourself. One lands on the arm of the sofa while the other finds Johnny’s firm chest.

His breath is hot against your sex, making you gasp at the contact. With a groan, Johnny's tongue teases your opening, not sliding in but just dancing around it. The tip of his nose presses against your clit. Each tiny movement causes it to rub against your clit, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Oh—fuck. Johnny,” you groan, head falling back as his tongue marks a languid circle up and around your pussy.

His large hands are on your hips, keeping you in place. Each pass of his tongue is a delicious tease, but it’s not nearly enough. You need to feel him everywhere, to have him inside you, even if it’s just his tongue.

Another groan from Johnny, and this time, is vibrates against your sex. It’s followed by a gentle roll of his tongue. Your hand on his chest slips, sliding to his stomach. Johnny’s fingers flex and hold tight, bringing you closer until you swear you’ll suffocate him.

But it doesn’t seem to bother Johnny at all. His tongue delves inside, gently stroking as the tip of his nose continues to rub against your clit. It stirs the growing pleasure, pushing it to new heights. Your hips jerk, but Johnny holds form fucking your pussy with his tongue.

Johnny’s hands begin to move. One curves to the top of your hip, pressing down to keep you in place. The other ascends, slipping underneath your top to slide between your breasts. His heat is a brand. The sensation of his tongue inside you with the stimulation to your clit is quickly driving you toward the edge.

A guttural moan leaves your lips. You tip back further, hand sliding until you meet gym shorts, and a hardness that cannot be denied. You want to fuck this man, to rip off his shorts, and ride him until he’s shooting blanks.

Another dip of his tongue inside you. Another grinding against clit.

The orgasm bursts outward, pussy squeezing around Johnny’s tongue. He does not stop. Not until your thighs quiver and squeeze against the sides of his head.

Johnny’s hand disappears from your chest, and then he’s helping you off his face, bringing you to his stomach. The lust-drenched haze still clouds your vision. You’re not entirely aware of your surroundings until Johnny shifts up on his elbows.

You go for him just as he goes for you. He tastes of you, and that only spurs you on, to seek entrance with your tongue. Johnny obliges with a smile, even as he continues to come to a more seated position.

You’re both reaching for his shorts, shoving them down enough until you feel his hardness bounce against the curve of your ass.

“Get on my dick,” growls Johnny, as you shift backward, lightly nipping at your left nipple.

The head of his cock drags against your ass before coming to rest against your sex. It starts to press in. Johnny’s tongue brushes over the nipple he just teased with his teeth. Sliding down on him is both agony and bliss.

With a smirk, you pop your hips up before coming back down on him. Johnny’s eyelids flutter briefly in pleasure.

“And this is my gift to you, Johnny.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[moonchild9350]

The Manor

Summary: both you and your boyfriend Chan love haunted houses so you both decide to check out the one in town, but you both find out soon you may get more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Chan x fab!reader, OT8 x reader throughout

Genre: horror, mystery, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: presence of spirits/ghosts, attempted drowning, knife play, description of blood, use of blindfolds, violence, description of bruising/assault, poison use, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, fingering, fear induced arousal, use of guns, attempted strangling, voyerism, mention of stabbing, element of dubcon (one scene), Chan's kind of a dick

Notes: This is it! The last fic for spooktober. I appreciated every kind comment, reblog, etc. throughout this month. Happy Halloween!

Let's see if you can decipher who is who as you read through! Let me know your guesses in the comments or my inbox!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.” -Willam Shakespeare

“The Edge Manor, established in 1876. Prime of its time. A well respected family in the community until tragedy struck in 1896 when Clara Edge was murdered by her lover, within the very rooms of the manor. It is rumored her ghost haunts the manor and has been spotted by many guests who come to seek out the horrors that lie within its walls.”

“Babe, this seems like an adventure! Can we go? Please? Please?” You begged your boyfriend Chan, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You dragged your leg up his, teasing the hairs there as you looked up into his face. You and Chan were avid lovers of anything horror, and that included haunted houses. You both made it a point to visit and see for yourselves if these places were truly disturbed with the dead as reported.

You found out about Edge Manor through a website, others raving about the manor, claiming to have seen many ghosts within its walls. You were a little skeptical however, knowing that whenever people claimed multiple sightings within one house, there was bound to be a lie somewhere.

Nonetheless, you were more than ready to find out if there was truth in the rumors, leading you to the present, pleading with Chan to come with you.

“Of course baby, let’s go,” Chan said, a smirk on his face. “Maybe we’ll see all these ghosts they claim are there,” he said sarcastically, poking you in the side.

You chuckled, holding him close. You were ready for another adventure, the last one being a bust. You both decided to visit the next weekend, since you both were off from work, that way you could stay overnight and thoroughly explore the manor during the day and night.

You were excited, almost giddy, and hoped the weekend after next would come soon.

Your bags were packed and you were making your way down the winding roads, twists and turns at every corner. The lanes were empty, no one being out this far in the middle of practically nowhere.

It was a cloudy day, the sun deciding to hide within the clouds, the threat of a storm in the horizon. There was already a mist descending from the sky, the droplets covering your windshield. Trees littered both sides of the road, the leaves drifting downward and landing softly like a feather.

You were on your way to Edge Manor to meet Chan, as he had left earlier than you. You hummed the song on the radio, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, as you focused on the road. You were almost there according to your GPS, your excitement bubbling at the prospect of a thrill of a weekend.

It didn’t take long until the manor loomed in the distance, the large structure betraying its age. The gray stones did not seem welcoming, almost as if it were an omen to anyone that approached to stay away. The shutters covering the windows were falling apart, yet hanging on, adding to the charm of the menacing manor.

You pulled into the long, gravel drive, slowly making your way to the front of the house. Your mouth hung open in awe as you came to the front door, elegant as much as it was rickety.

You put your car in park and opened the door, your foot touching the gravel below with a crunch. You slowly walked up the steps and to the door, your hand grasping the centuries old knob. Opening the door, you were met with a grand foyer, dim lighting illuminating the room.

Your eyes wandered the room, until you noticed a desk in the center, a man standing behind it, his hands placed precariously on the wood. You walked towards him, a smile steadily growing on his face as you approached.

He had long blond hair that framed his almost angelic face. His large brown eyes gazed at you, radiating with a welcoming kindness. His face was littered with freckles, the spots moving as his smile grew bigger, meeting his eyes.

“Welcome to Edge Manor. My name is Felix, the caretaker of the grounds. Will you be staying with us?”

His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent, the syllables echoing off the ornate walls.

“Yes, I’m uhh...I’m meeting someone here, he’s already checked in. Chan is his name.”

“Ah yes, he checked in a little earlier.”

You watched as he rummaged under the desk, muttering under his breath as he searched for something. Finally, he straightened up with an old fashioned key in his hand, the red label reading 325. Felix smiled and handed you the key, his cold fingers softly brushing against yours before he quickly withdrew his hand once the key was safely in yours.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay. If you are in need of any assistance, please do not hesitate to let me know. The stairs to my left will take you to your room.”

You thanked Felix and grabbed your bag, heading to the stairs he mentioned. You made your way up the plush stairs, your feet feeling almost buoyant on the carpeted stairs. Your eyes wandered, looking at the paintings that lined the wall. Each frame showed a different person, each in period clothing.

Stopping at a particular frame, you took note of a young girl in a beautiful lilac dress holding lily of the valley flowers in her arms. She was beautiful with a gentle face, her eyes an illustrious green. As beautiful as she was, there was a hint of melancholy etched into her eyes, her smile not quite reaching the green orbs.

‘This must be the famous Clara Edge,’ you thought.

With one last glance at the girl, you continued down the hall, looking for your room. It didn’t take long, the room being in the center of the hall. Inserting the key, you unlocked the door, and walked inside.

The room was charming yet simple, a little bit of old charm mixed with new. You placed your bag on the dresser, noticing Chan’s bag was there as well. So he was here. You pulled out your phone to contact him, but noticed there was no service.

“Shit,” you muttered, wondering how you were going to get in contact with him. Surely he wouldn’t have started to explore the manor without you.

You decided to freshen up, while waiting for him to return, as you were feeling a little sweaty after the journey. Unzipping your bag, you pulled out your shower supplies and made your way to the in-suite bathroom. Flicking on the light, you took in the room, a simple claw tub in the corner followed by a sink and a toilet.

The bare minimum, but it would do. You turned the water on, humming a song, waiting for the water to warm up. It surprisingly didn’t take long, so you were able to fill the tub, and quickly get in, as there was a slight chill in the air.

Sinking down in the warm water, you let out a sigh, the tension slowly leaving your body. You leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes, listening to the house settle around you, the creaks of the floor boards and groans of the pipes being your background noise. You hoped Chan would come back soon, wanting to be near him in this strange house.

You were thinking of Chan still when you felt odd, like someone was watching you. The room turned colder, the edge of the tub frosting over. You shivered at the sudden change, opening your eyes in confusion at the sudden change.

You tried to get out of the tub so you could get into some warm clothes. You had your hands on either side of the tub, grasping the icy rim when you felt a hand on both of your shoulders, the fingers colder than the air around you. With force, the hands pushed you back into the water, causing some water to spill up and over the edge of the tub.

You almost slipped on your way back down, stopping your head from going completely under the tepid water. Your heart was beating rapidly within your chest, as you almost had gone under.

“Chan? Very funny babe,” you nervously chuckled.

This would be a funny idea of a joke to Chan, trying to sneak up and scare you in a vulnerable moment.

However, when you turned around to look toward the bathroom door, there was no one there, just you alone within the tub. You were confused, more than sure that someone had touched you just now. You almost went under because of it. Shaking your head, thinking it was a fluke, you tried to get up once more.

Suddenly, you were pushed down again, this time your body slipping completely below the water, your head submerged, your hair floating gently in the water like Ophelia. You were shocked, your mouth agape, water flooding your mouth as you scrambled to get out of the water. However, the more you struggled, the harder you were pushed down by the mysterious hands, your head touching the bottom of the tub.

You kicked your feet, thrashed around, trying anything you could do to get your head above water, but to no avail. You screamed, bubbles floating around you as your voice pierced the water, the sound coming out muffled.

What you saw peering down at you from the surface caused you to scream even louder. The hands pushing you down were connected to a body, a man at that.

He had dark hair that layered his head haphazardly, his fox like brown eyes wide and bloodshot. His lips were pale and shriveled, as if he held them under water for a while. His mouth was twisted in anger, his focus trained on keeping you under.

You brought your hands to his, scratching the flesh, fighting to loosen his grip on you. It was becoming harder to breathe as you had swallowed quite a lot of water, the liquid rapidly filling your lungs while fighting off your assailant.

Your vision became fuzzy, the image of the man blurring around the edges. You were about to succumb to your fate, when strong, sturdy hands grabbed you pulling you out the water.

You gasped, taking a deep breath before coughing, spewing water that was trapped within your throat onto the bathroom floor. You looked up to see Chan, who was now cradling you to his side, brushing back your soaking hair from your face.

“What the hell, y/n! What happened?” He exclaimed, a mixture of confusion and fear mixed on his face.

“I...I’m not sure,” you stuttered. “I was taking a bath when I felt a pair of hands push me down under the water. I couldn’t get back up!” You cried, as you clutched onto Chan tighter.

“Sh, sh,” Chan said as he wrapped a towel around you tight. “Let's dry you off and get you into some warm clothes.”

You nodded your head in agreement and held on tight as Chan carried you to the bedroom. He set you down gently on the bed while he rummaged through your bag for some clothes.

He tossed you your panties, some leggings and a shirt, and helped you get dressed. Once done, you both reclined against the bed, sitting in silence.

What was that? What happened? Who was that? Your mind was all over the place, shock at your run in with...with what? Was that one of the famed ghosts of the manor? The man did seem to have a glow to his frame.

You broke the silence, explaining to Chan what you saw and then explaining your theory. He looked at you skeptically, not sure if he wanted to believe it was a ghost, but what other explanation was there?

You felt adrenaline running through your veins, the feeling of fear not quite dissipating yet. Instead, you felt aroused, the brush with death stirring up feelings deep in your core. You squeezed your thighs together, seeking friction to ease the ache. Chan noticed and smirked. “Are you turned on right now?” You smiled slyly as you looked into his eyes. You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him before kissing him, your tongue forcing its way into his mouth. You were dripping, never having felt this type of arousal before, the balance between fear and adrenaline teetering like the scale of judgment.

You quickly pushed Chan down, his back hitting the pillows, a “mmhft” leaving his mouth at the impact. You shimmied out of your leggings, tossing them to the side and scrambled to reach into his sweats, your hands wrapping around his hardening cock.

Chan let out a groan as you stroked the tip, pushing your panties to the side, before lifting your hips and dragging his cock through your folds. You both let out a moan as you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

There was no time for soft and sweet, but only passion, at the experience you both just went through. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his chest, as you began to bounce on his cock, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the room, as you rode Chan hard and fast.

Strangled cries fell from Chan’s lips as he grabbed your hips, the pleasure quickly building within his belly. He was not going to last long. He quickly brought a finger to your clit, the digits rubbing the bud in gentle, but quick circles, bringing you closer to the edge as you fervently swiveled your hips.

You were close, Chan’s cock hitting your spot just right and his fingers toying with your clit. You braced yourself as you tipped over the edge, giving into the sweet pleasure spreading throughout your body, your release coating Chan’s cock. The spasming of your walls triggered his own release, as he loudly groaned, thrusting his hips into yours as spurts of cum coated your walls.

You sat there, your breath heavy as you came down, staring down at your boyfriend who was in no better shape.

“That was insane babe,” Chan said, a smile on his face.

You laughed agreeing and slipped off his cock, his cum dripping down your thighs as you laid down. Chan walked back to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to wipe you down with.

Once he was done, he slid next to you, cradling you to his body. You could feel the adrenaline finally subsiding, your mind returning back to normal. That was definitely a paranormal entity you had experienced, no doubt about it. But who was it?

Your mind couldn’t keep up with your constant thoughts as your eyes drifted close, sleep taking over your exhaustion body.

You awoke, your belly growling signaling to you that you were hungry. It was midday, the room dark as the sun did not shine on this side of the manor, the shadows dancing across the walls as the wind blew the trees outside.

You were still wrapped up in Chan, his arms around you, holding you close. Your mind went to what happened earlier, your body shivering at the memory of your head under water, the look of the unforgiving eyes of the man that held you under. But, your mind also wandered to after, the way Chan felt under you, the way your senses were heightened ten-fold as the adrenaline spread throughout your body. You had never felt that fear before, but then again, you had never been in this type of situation.

Your stomach growled once more, interrupting your thoughts. Carefully, you untangled your limbs from Chan and got up, deciding to find the kitchen to grab a snack.

You walked the halls, rubbing your eyes, making your way down the grand staircase. You passed by the front desk, Felix standing behind it waiting.

“How’s your stay?” Felix asked suddenly, the ever present smile on his face. “Ok,” you replied, stopping in your tracks. “That’s good to hear! If you are of need of anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” You didn’t notice this before, but now that you were settling in, you noticed how Felix spoke, as if he was programmed to say what he was saying. You decided not to think too much of it as your belly continued to growl, reminding you of your hunger.

“Felix, where is the kitchen? I’m a little hungry and would love a snack.”

Felix flashed his smile before saying, “Right down the hall here to my right. Fourth door. Take the stairs down into the kitchen.”

“Great, thank you,” you replied, making your way down the hall as directed.

The hall was dim, the flicker of light from the lamps on the walls not providing adequate lighting. There were more pictures on the wall, depicting the previous occupants of the house.

“One, two, three....and four,” you whispered, coming to the door Felix mentioned.

You opened the door to find a stone staircase, leading to beneath the house, the stairs lit with the soft glow of the lamps. There was a draft, the chilly air causing you to shiver where you stood.

Taking a breath, you began to make your descent, the promise of food spurring you on. Once at the bottom, you stepped into a simple kitchen. There was a wood stove next to the refrigerator, the wide sink basin not too far off. It seemed like the original appliances were still in use.

You padded over to a door, assuming the pantry would be located behind it. You were right as it was piled high with various types of chips, boxes of pasta, desserts, and other types of foods that must be used to cook for the guests.

You decided on a bag of chips, grabbing the bag and walking over to a stool. You opened the bag and dug in, the salty snack hitting the spot. It wasn’t very late, dinner time not yet approaching, so you didn’t have to worry about ruining your dinner.

After eating your fill, you got up to put the bag away and then made your way to the sink to wash your hands. While you ran your hands under the warm water, you heard a clink, the sound echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You quickly turned around, your soaped up hands held in front of you, looking for the source of the sound.

Seeing no one, you went back to washing the suds off. You were almost done when you felt something press at your throat, feeling cold and solid against your skin. You attempted to turn your head, but stopped in your tracks when the solid object dug deeper into your skin.

You could feel a trickle of blood seep from the area, causing you to gasp, realizing there was a knife at your throat. Your breath became shaky, trying not to make any sudden movements and injury yourself further.

“Who’s there?” You asked, your voice trembling with each word.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly, the sound echoing in your ears. No one responded to your question as there was only silence and the occasional ‘plink plink plink’ of the water dripping from the faucet.

You knew someone was behind you however, as you could feel their breath on your neck, not hot as you would expect, but cold. Whoever it was still had the knife pressed to your throat before you heard a haunting whisper. “Turn around slowly,” the voice said.

The knife was lowered and you let out a breath before slowly turning around. You noticed another man in front of you, this one different than the one you encounter during your bath.

He had black hair like the man before, however, his eyes were almost cat like, the orbs piercing into your skull. He gripped the knife in his hand, occasionally twirling the blade.

“Aren’t you a cutie, kitten,” the man said, his eyes roaming your figure before landing back on your eyes, holding your gaze.

You were trembling in your spot in fear, not sure who the man was. The adrenaline was coursing through your system once more, your body posed to flee once the timing seemed right. You kept eyeing the knife, making sure it stayed far away from you. You must have gazed at it too long, as the man noticed, a smirk forming on his face.

“Wanna see my little friend up close?” He questioned, walking closer to you.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of your face. You continued to stare into his brown orbs as he lightly dragged the knife up your arms, the little hairs on your arms sticking up. He continued his assault across your chest, down the valley of your breasts before coming back up to your chest.

He eyed your throat, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, almost as if he was savoring you in his head. With a quick motion, the knife was back at your throat, the blade pressing in harder than before.

You were terrified, as you felt the metal dig deeper and deeper, a more steady flow of blood seeping from the wound. With each drop of blood, you couldn't help the arousal that seeped into your panties, the material feeling damp against your core.

With each press of the knife, your pussy clenched around nothing, your body desperately seeking for some type of relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, but here you were with a knife at your throat, ready to slice you open and you were turned on.

You needed to get away from this man, before anymore damage could be done. You decided to run across the room and up the stairs and into the hallway, locking the man in this infernal place.

Taking a breath, you counted to three before shoving the man hard, your hands meeting the hard surface of his chest. As he stumbled backwards, you made a run for it, making it to the steps in no time. You took them two at a time, not stopping until you were in the hallway, the door closed tightly behind you.

You quickly made your way back to the foyer, your neck still dripping blood from where the knife was held against your skin. Once in the grand hall, you turned to see Felix looking at you in concern.

“Why y/n, you are bleeding! What happened?” Felix exclaimed, walking over to you with a tissue.

You gratefully accepted the cloth, holding it against the wound on your neck. “Come, this way. Let’s go the sitting room.” Felix guided you toward a room to the left of his desk, swinging open the ornate doors. He waited until you stepped in, before following behind you. “Please sit,” Felix murmured. “I will get a first aid kit to clean up your wound. You can tell me what happened then too.” You watched as Felix scurried out the room, shutting the doors behind him. Now that he was gone, you took in your surroundings, not yet having come across this room. It was large, but cozy, various arm chairs and couches strategically placed throughout. You could hear the tick tock tick tock of a clock somewhere in the room, but other than that, it was silent.

There was a large bay window at the other end of the room. You got up and walked toward it, wanting to see where it overlooked. There was a massive yard, the grass green despite the time of year. It was neatly manicured, keeping up with the prestige of the house.

You were lost in thought, your mind not yet recovered from what just occurred. You weren’t sure what was happening in this house, but you wanted nothing more than to be with your boyfriend, his warm, muscular arms wrapped around you.

As you daydreamed, your head off in the clouds, you did not notice the shift in the air, how the temperature dropped a degree or two, or how there was a presence behind you, gazing at you.

You continued to stare out the window until you felt something cover your eyes, the material soft and delicate, obscuring your eye sight.

“Chan?” You asked, your voice quivering slightly.

“Shhh, behave,” the voice responded, deep and sultry just like Chan’s can be in the bedroom.

You giggled, slightly relaxing at the fact that your boyfriend found you, and not some other person. You started to turn around when a hand stopped you, before turning you back to face what you assumed was the window.

You felt hands glide from your shoulders down your arms, causing shivers to run down your spine. It occurred again and again and again before they made their way to your belly, the digits softly splaying across your soft flesh.

The hands reached lower, reaching your thighs, caressing the supple flesh, as you let out a low moan. Your panties became even more wet, your slick soaking the material as you felt the hands continue to touch you softly, gently, slowly, building anticipation as to what was to come.

You felt a body behind you, the muscular frame pressed against your back so similar to Chan’s, hands continuing to touch you, locking you in.

“Please,” you whimpered, more than ready for him to touch you where you needed it most, to relieve the ache that had never quite gone away, as it steadily built up through your encounter with the man with the knife and now with your boyfriend’s hands touching you, teasing you.

You let out a sigh as the hand finally slipped into your leggings, pass your panties to cup your core. You tried to hold back your moans as you felt a thick finger dip through your folds, teasing your entrance before traveling up to your clit.

The slightest pressure was applied to the nub, causing you to jerk your hips into his hands. You leaned back onto the muscular frame behind you, completely surrendering yourself to the pleasure, as gentle yet firm circles were applied to your clit, bringing you closer to that high you desperately needed.

You felt your knees begin to buckle, needing to move to brace yourself against your high that was ready to explode at any moment. However you couldn't move as his muscular arm was wrapped around you, holding you up, making sure your body was flush with his.

You teetered on the edge of ecstasy, your breath shaky, your toes curling in your shoes, as your hips rocking against the finger that was pressed to your bundle of nerves. Despite the blindfold, you saw colors, the spots swirling this way and that as you tipped over the edge, your hands coming up to grab the two that were wrapped around your body.

You dug your fingernails into the flesh, riding out your high before taking a shaky breath and slowly letting go. The hand move up and out of your leggings, the other arm dropping from your body. The presence of the body behind you was gone in an instant, leaving you alone and out of breath.

You removed your blindfold, ready to turn around and wrap your arms around your boyfriend. However, when you did turn around, there was no one there, only the lingering chill was present in the air. Your eyes scanned the room confused, knowing you would have heard or caught Chan before he left the room.

That was Chan right? It sounded like him, felt like him, but now you’re not so sure. He wouldn’t leave you like this. You looked down at the blindfold that was covering your eyes a moment ago and fingered the material, soft and silky against your touch.

It seemed to be a scarf, one that was not yours. Your started to panic, wondering who you just let touch you in such an intimate way. You didn’t have much longer to fret as the door opened, Felix entering the room with a bag in his hands.

He closed the door and walked towards you, his ever present smile on his face. “Found the first aid kit y/n. Please sit down and I can clean your wound.” You listened to what the blond said, sitting down on the closest couch, surprised that you forgot all about your wound. The blood seemed to have since stopped, the red caked onto your clammy skin.

You watched as Felix opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic, gauze, cream, and a bandage. It was almost calming watching him work, determination in his eyes as he began to clean your wound.

You couldn’t help but stare at his face, taking in his beautiful eyes, soft and gentle, focused on the task at hand. Your eyes wandered his face, taking in the hundreds of freckles that littered the area, enhancing his beauty.

You watched his lips open, as he asked, “So what happened?”

You blinked once, twice before answering, “I was attacked in the kitchens. I was cleaning up after my snack when a man with cat like eyes attacked me, holding a knife to my throat.”

Felix stopped what he was doing, taking a moment to look at you more closely.

“A man with cat eyes?” He asked skeptically.

You looked into Felix’s eyes, trying to read his expression, as it went from shock to almost a knowing look, and then back to shock as if he was trying to cover up something. You may be mistaken but it seemed as if he knew of the man that you described.

“Yes,” you responded. “Is this anyone else staying here besides Chan and I?”

“No, you two are the only ones here at the moment. No one else is supposed to be here until Monday.”

You pondered Felix’s answer as he continued to dress your wound. He was placing the bandage when the door opened again, this time Chan stepping through. When he spotted you sitting on the couch and Felix placing a bandage on, he rushed over, concern on his face.

“Baby, what happened?” He asked, sitting by your side.

You explained everything, as Felix cleaned up the wrappers and dirty linens, silently listening to your tale once more. Once you were done, you didn’t dare look at Chan. You left out what recently happened, your mind wanting to believe that it was indeed Chan who you let touch you.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Chan asked, uncertainty in his eyes. You nodded your head. “Yes, I am completely sure.” This was the second time he's questioned your story. Did it really sound that crazy? Who are you kidding, of course it does, you can't blame him really for not believing you. Chan looked at Felix who looked down at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pants. Chan didn’t know what to believe if he was being honest. First the drowning situation and now this? He didn’t want to say anything to upset you, especially in front of Felix.

“Maybe you need fresh air baby, may do you some good.”

You looked at your boyfriend, searching his face for what he was thinking. A walk to clear your head honestly sounded appealing. Maybe fresh air truly is what you needed as this manor was starting to get to you.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to get both of your attention. “There’s a garden out behind the manor. There’s a little flower garden, a mini maze, and some chaise to lounge in. You two go ahead, I’ll prepare snacks and some tea.”

You both nodded and stood up. Chan grabbed your hand, holding it tight in his. You felt comforted and reassured, squeezing his hand for good measure. Chan smiled at you before guiding you out of the sitting room, leaving Felix behind.

Felix watched both of you exit the room. He was at a loss, not sure what to do. The events were occurring again, as he thought they would with a perfectly happy couple staying at the manor. He just hoped things wouldn’t get out of hand the way they did last time.

The fresh air was exactly what you needed. It was nearing dusk, so the air was crisp, filling your lungs with each breath you took. You walked with Chan hand and hand, exploring the backyard, neither one of you in a hurry.

The birds were chittering, as they prepared for night, making last minute runs for food and flying to their homes. You both came across the garden first, taking in the hundreds of flowers resting peacefully in their home. The vibrant colors spilled over onto the walkway, their scent mixing with the cool air.

“They’re so beautiful!” You exclaimed, taking in each flower as you walked past.

Chan hummed agreeing with you, taking in the flowers as well. “This place is beautiful,” he said, “It’s old and filled with history. The manor itself feels...”

Chan paused for a moment, causing you to look up at him. “It feels alive almost,” he finished.

You couldn’t agree more. The manor did feel alive, unsettled almost. You were sure there were spirits present, given that you may have already encountered three of them. You pushed that thought from your mind however, and continued your walk.

You neared some green shrubbery, the neat hedges forming walls on either side of a dirt walkway. This must be the maze Felix mentioned.

“Wanna go in?” Chan asked, looking at you before looking back at the entrance.

“Sure,” you responded.

You thought for a moment, an idea coming to the forefront of your mind. It was probably not the best idea given everything that has occurred, but at least Chan would be in the same vicinity as you.

“Wanna split up and whoever makes it out first gets to buy ice cream when we get back home?”

Chan grinned at your suggestion, “You’re on baby.”

You smiled and then untangled your hand from his. You walked to another entrance that was a few feet away. Giving your boyfriend one last glance, you stepped into the maze, the green walls closing you in.

You walked down the path, carefully making decision after decision as to which direction you wanted to go. You thought you were doing pretty well and hopefully close to the end when you came across a small clearing in your path. In front of you was yet another man, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas, a paintbrush in his hands.

He was just staring at the canvas, the bristles not quite touching the white expanse before him. You tried to be quiet as you turned to go back the way you came, that is until your foot came down on a branch, the brown stick snapping in two.

The man looked up and turned your way, his mouth agape at the interruption. “Ah! A new muse!” He exclaimed, excitement in his eyes as he gazed at you. “Come, come! I must paint you.” He gestured for you to sit on another stool that was definitely not there a moment ago. You cautiously walked over, sitting on the stool, as you looked at the man anxiously.

He had long dark hair, the waves framing his face perfectly. His eyes seemed gentle enough as they darted from you to the canvas. He was wearing simple clothes, his shirt haphazardly hanging off of his shoulders, smattered with various colors.

You listened as he began to mutter, his plush lips opening and closing, forming syllables you couldn’t quite make out.

After mixing some colors he began to paint, the brush lightly dancing across the canvas. You sat in fear, your eyes widened, hands clasped tightly in your lap. You didn’t dare move, not sure what this man was capable of. Time passed, the sky getting darker, the stars starting to peak out in the night sky. You were growing stiff after sitting for so long. You really ought to find Chan, sure he would be worried about you.

“I’m going to...” But before you could finish your sentence, the man sprang from his seat, rushing over to you quickly.

“No, no! You must not leave. The painting is not yet finished my muse!”

You stared into the man’s eyes, now wide and crazed, a sort of desperation in them. You couldn’t help the tingling feeling that began to form in your core, the adrenaline once again coursing through you as you gazed upon his beautiful face. You should be terrified, as this man did not seem stable, however you found that the terror was mixed with desire and lust.

“Here my muse, hold these. They will complete the painting perfectly.” You opened your arms as the man produced a bouquet of flowers. They were dainty and delicate, the white petals enticing to the eye. You were not sure what type of flowers they were and as you opened your mouth to ask, you noticed the man had begun to wildly paint, the brush covering the canvas in more hurried strokes.

“What kind of flowers are these?” You asked, your eyes never leaving his back.

He smirked and continued to paint, his docile face turning over to a more crazed and sinister look. “Hemlock my muse, the perfect flower for the perfect girl on this perfect night. It will complete the painting perfectly.”

Hemlock...hemlock, you repeated in your mind. You had actually heard of the flowers, somewhere at some point in time. But...wait a minute...weren’t hemlocks poisonous, one of the deadliest flowers in the world? You quickly dropped the bouquet, fear etched on your face at what you just touched.

The man looked up, anger in his eyes. He rushed at you and gripped your shoulders, the crazed look in his eye intensified.

“Why did you drop them my muse? Why! Now the painting is ruined, ruined once more!” He screamed into your face.

He was shaking you roughly, your head bobbing back and forth like a rag doll. You had tears in your eyes, as you struggled to get away. However, every time you were able to get loose from his grip, he’d hold onto you tighter, shaking you harder. You were hysterical, clawing, thrashing, and even tried to bite the man, trying to get away so you could run.

The man suddenly stopped shaking you but still gripped your arms. He grinned, an evil look in his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his plush lips.

“I know how I can finish my painting with my muse!”

In his hand, he produced a flower, the same ones that you were holding moments before. You shrieked as he began to try to shove the flower past your lips, trying to get you to ingest the poisonous beauty.

You kept your lips shut tight, twisting your head left and right, trying to avoid ingesting the flower. Each time you rejected his advances, the angrier and more forceful he became.

You feared for your life, worried this would be the end. Where was Chan? Can he hear your screams, your cries for help?

Just when you were about to give up, you heard a voice and multiple footsteps pound on the gravel, getting closer to you by the second.

As soon as the frenzy began, it stopped, the man and easel with the canvas gone. It was just you, standing in the middle of the path, tears streaming down your face, your hair a mess, and angry bruises beginning to form on your arms from where the man grabbed you.

“Y/n!” Chan yelled, relief in his voice as he made eye contact with you, running to your side and engulfing you with a hug.

Felix made an appearance a moment later, his eyes widened at the scene. You were shaking, hysterical as Chan tried to calm you down, holding you close as you clung onto him.

Night had now fallen, the moon shining bright in the sky, making the maze seem less friendly. You were not sure how long you had stayed on that pathway, being comforted by Chan.

Eventually, the tears stopped and you took a deep breath. You were ready to go back to the manor, the once cheery and harmless garden to you, now filled with darkness and evil lurking around every corner.

“Can we go back?” You hiccuped, looking from Chan to Felix.

Both men nodded and quickly led you away from the maze, the green shrubbery now appearing menacing in the darkness of the night. It didn’t take long for you to make it back to the manor, Felix ushering you both inside before closing the doors and locking them.

“You can both take dinner in the sitting room if you’d like.” Felix said.

Chan guided you to the large room, gently sitting you down on the couch. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, cradling you. You felt much calmer, the threat of the maze gone. You were once more moments from death, which did not sit well with you.

Chan seemed none the wiser, seeming to enjoy his stay at the manor. No crazy events occurred to him. You were confused, wondering why everything was happening to you and not him. What did this place have against you?

Felix brought in dinner consisting of sandwiches and chips, topping it off with tea which you had no problems with and gratefully accepted. You nibbled on the meat and bread, your stomach still uneasy after what just occurred. Nonetheless, you finished your meal and afterwards, settled in next to Chan. “Ready for bed baby?” Chan asked with gentleness in his eyes. You nodded yes and got up, Chan grabbing your hand as you both walked back to your room. You thanked Felix for the food and his help, a smile gracing his face at the praise. He bid both of you goodnight as you started to ascend the staircase.

Once in the safety of your room, you quickly changed clothes and crawled into bed, as you were exhausted. Chan slid in next to you and pulled you close, his hand reaching up to brush your hair from your face.

“Wanna talk about what happened today? I’m worried baby,” Chan said, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I...I just want to sleep,” you whispered, lowering your eyes so he couldn’t see the pain there.

It didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep, the thoughts of men with knives pressed to your throat, unknown hands caressing you gently such as your boyfriend does, and crazed men in front of a canvas swirling around in your head. You were shocked you could sleep at all.

You hoped you could sleep through the night, hoping to maybe bring up with Chan that you both go home tomorrow, away from this place, from this cursed manor.

The next morning you arose, your eyes still heavy with sleep. You did not sleep as well as you wanted, cuddling up to Chan as close as possible each time you awoke. Chan was sitting up, on his phone, his arm draped around you as in to provide protection.

“Good morning baby,” Chan said a smile on his face.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice thick with sleep.

You sat up, stretching your arms before laying your head on Chan’s shoulders. You laid there, watching him read his book on his phone, feeling safe and warm within the comfort of his arms. You were so warm that you could drift off any moment, your eyes threatening to close.

“Wanna go downstairs to get something to eat and maybe explore a little more?” Chan eventually asked, exiting the book he was reading.

You wanted nothing more than to pack up and leave, but maybe you could bring that up after a belly full with food; therefore, you agreed, getting up to get ready. It didn’t take you long, as you threw on a t-shirt and leggings and put your hair up, not caring what you looked like.

You did take a look in the mirror, noticing the bruises on your arm, now a dark red with purple splotches littering your skin. You took in the bandage on your neck, a reminder that you were held at knife point. Your eyes looked tired, dark circles forming beneath them. You looked a wreck, like you had been through hell and back. Shaking your head, you made your way over to Chan, giving him a small smile letting him know you were ready.

Chan grabbed your hand and led you out of your room and down the stairs, making your way to the dining room. You noticed upon the table was a spread of pastries, fruit, bagels, carafes of coffee and jars of water. You picked out a pastry and poured you a cup of coffee before sitting down next to Chan who had chosen a bagel and was scarfing it down.

You ate in silence, slowly picking away at your food. You decided to bring up the topic of going home, as it was as good a time as ever.

“Chan?” You asked with uncertainty. Chan looked up at you expectedly giving you his full attention. “Can we uh...go home? I kinda have had enough of this manor,” you continued, your voice trailing off towards the end. Chan regarded you for a moment. You knew the wheels were turning in his head.

His eyes studied yours, then traveled to the bandage on your neck, to the bruises on your arm.

“We have one more night baby,” Chan replied. He didn’t really want to leave, not quite yet, as you both still had so much to explore.

You stared at Chan in disbelief, your fingers frozen as you were picking apart the last of your pastry. You really didn’t want to stay another night, not wanting to encounter anymore surprises. However, Chan looked hopeful, his eyes never wavering from yours. You’d have to suck it up and endure one more night...for him.

“Fine...” you said in disdain, quickly looking away. Chan reached out to grab your hand in his, his thumb gliding over your knuckles. “One more night baby and then we’ll be home.” One more night.

Sure, you can do this...right?

After breakfast, Chan explained he needed to run back to your room to grab his phone since he left it on the bedside table. He kissed the top of your hand, ensuring you he would be right back.

You watched as he ascended the stairs, taking two at a time. You turned away, seeing Felix standing behind the front desk.

He offered you a smile before going back to his book. You were going to wait for Chan, until you heard a soft melody playing off in one of the rooms. You looked to Felix to see if he heard the music, but he was engrossed in his book, not even looking up.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to investigate the music, following the melancholic notes to a door near the door that led to the kitchen. Twisting the knob, it silently opened, giving way to a beautiful, yet empty room. There were stained glassed windows, the beautiful depictions of cherubs, gods, and goddesses causing a glow in the room.

Your eyes wandered to the center of the room, where there was a white Baby Grande Piano, a man sitting on the bench. His fingers were dancing gracefully amongst the keys, the resulting music sounding hauntingly beautiful. You stood in the doorway as if in a trance, the notes flowing into one ear and out the other.

Whoever it was played beautifully, as they told a story through their fingertips. You carefully walked toward the man, putting one foot in front of the other. You were getting closer and closer, noticing that he had curly brown hair. You wanted to get a look at his face, so you continued to walk, as he continued to play.

You were almost upon him when he suddenly stopped playing and before you knew it, swiveled around on the bench, his arm outstretched with a pistol in his hand. You froze on the spot, your eyes wide, as your brain tried to register that a gun was pointed at you, straight at your heart.

The man didn’t speak but stared at you, his gaze never wavering. He didn’t even blink. He had on glasses, the sun’s rays radiating off the rims. His cheeks were round, with heart shaped lips in between.

Time passed, as you stayed frozen, not daring to move, the man staring you down, his arm never lowering. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, the sound so loud that surely it could be heard from where the man was standing. You needed to get out of here before something bad happens.

Trying to be careful, you took a step back, your toe touching the ground first followed by the ball of your foot and then your heel. Your eyes never left the mans, hoping he wouldn’t notice your movement.

However, you knew you had made a mistake when you heard him cock the pistol, the sound ringing out loudly in the near empty room, his arm steady throughout the whole process. Were you really going to die here? You had no way out, not knowing if you could make it out before he fired the gun.

“Please!” You pleaded, tears starting to form in your eyes, “Please let me go!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears however, as the man simply smiled and pulled the trigger, a gunshot reverberating in the empty room. You stumbled backwards as you let out a scream. You looked up and saw smoke raising from the barrel, obscuring the sneer on the man’s face.

He was preparing to fire at you again, the ‘click’ echoing loud and clear in your ears. You took your chances and made a run for it, running as fast as you could to the door. It didn’t take long, but right as you exited the room, pulling the doors shut, another shot rang out, causing you to duck.

You whimpered as you saw a bullet size hole in the door, right where you were standing only moments before. Standing up, you made a run for it, running towards a door across the hall.

Once safely inside, you sank to the floor, hugging your knees as you tried to regulate your breathing. You almost died, the phrase repeating over and over in your brain. There was a gun pointed to your head, the trigger pulled.

But what’s new? Right? You were so busy in your thoughts, you didn’t notice you had taken refuge in a library. There were book shelves lining the walls, the shelves stacking all the way to the ceiling. Each shelf was filled with books, the smell only books can give off permeating the room.

You got up, and started to look around, your current predicament forgotten. It didn’t seem as if the man was going to follow you. You were safe. You browsed shelf after shelf, noticing various themes of books, the topics catching your interests.

However, the book that caught your interest the most was a large green book, laying on a large wooden desk in the center of the room. You gently brushed your fingers over the cover, taking in the delicate details that were drawn on. There was no title to the book.

You looked at the door to ensure no one was coming in and then opened the book to see what was inside.

Victims of Edge Manor

Read the title on the first page. You thought this strange, but continued to read on, noticing there was a list of names.

Lee Felix Yang Jeongin Lee Minho Seo Changbin Hwang Hyunjin Kim Seungmin Han Jisung

What did these names mean? What did it mean by victims? There was no other information besides the names, leaving you quite confused. You continued to flip through the book, searching for any other information that you may have missed.

“You won’t find anything in there,” a voice said, startling you.

You looked up to see yet another man, with a docile face, his hair short. He reminded you of a golden retriever, which was odd. Yet again, you did not hear him come in.

“What do you mean?” You asked, as you carefully closed the book.

You were on edge, not sure who this person was and why they decided to sneak up on you. You eyed him closely as he slowly walked toward you, his hands behind his back.

“There’s nothing in there but names,” the man calmly said. “But why? Who are they?” He didn’t answer but continued to walk towards you. “You’ll know soon enough,” he cooed, a smirk appearing on his face. He was close to you now, just on the other side of the desk. Your warning bells were going off, telling you to proceed with caution, especially since you didn’t know what was behind his back.

“It’ll soon be over y/n, don’t worry.”

How did he know your name? Did Felix tell him? Was he a new guest? You did not know and frankly you didn’t want to find out.

“Ok...” You said, making your way towards the door. “I’m going to leave now.”

The man eyed you, the smile still plastered on his face. You backed away, never turning your back towards him. You felt you were almost there until you bumped into something, the item brushing against your head.

With a moment’s notice, the man was next to you, grabbing the item that bumped against you. You barely had time to react while he attempted to force a rope around your neck. However, you made it just in time, keeping your hand up at the level of your eye.

The man struggled against you, as he sneered, attempting to lower your head so he could tighten the rope. You tried to scratch at his eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your brain telling you to survive.

One of your swipes made contact, your nails digging into the skin of his face. He yelled in pain, his hands dropping the rope to instead protect his eyes. You used this opportunity to run the rest of the way to the door, flinging it open and running down the hall, away from the man, away from the library, away from the rope that would have made it’s home around your neck if you hadn’t gotten away.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were going bumping into something... or someone. You yelped and stopped in your tracks, looking up to see Chan, his hands holding you up. Felix looked on in shock, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Baby, what happened? Why are you running?” Chan exclaimed.

“There were two men! One in some sort of music room, the other in the library... they both tried to kill me!” You yelled.

You noticed Felix’s face blanche at your outburst, the color draining from his face. He knew something, you just knew it, and you were going to demand he tell you what he knew.

“You know something!” You said, pointing your finger at Felix accusingly.

Felix stuttered at your accusation, not knowing what to say. Eventually, he gave up and hung his head.

“Very well, I shall tell you everything I know.”

Felix walked around the desk and gestured towards the sitting room. “Let’s talk in here.”

You and Chan followed him, sitting down on a couch while Felix sat in a chair across from you. You looked expectedly at Felix, waiting for him to speak.

Felix cleared his throat before beginning.

“You all know that the Edge’s lived in this manor, the most prestigious family of its time. Clara Edge was the mistress of the house and the heir. She needed to marry quickly so the deed could go to her husband, as women were not able to own the manor back in that time period.”

Felix looked at you and Chan, making sure you were both still listening. You nodded at him, signaling he had both of your undivided attention. Felix nodded and continued.

“Clara did indeed find her true love, one she could marry and pass on the family’s good name. The date was set for them to marry, everything was in order. It was a happy time for the household. That is...until Clara found out her husband to be was being unfaithful, catching him with a girl from town.”

“She was heartbroken, her spirit crushed. The wedding was canceled, as she could not be with an adulterer. She was sad, but also angry, her fury getting the best of her whenever he appeared at the manor or when she saw him in town. She’d badger him, ask him again and again ‘why, why, why.’ He never did answer her, just brushed her away, taking the new girl’s hand in his.”

You listened intently. You could feel you were close to the answer, you just needed to listen a little more. You looked at Chan who squeezed your hand in response. You both turned to look at Felix once more, as he continued the tale.

“One day, Clara invited him to the manor, under the pretext that she wanted to make amends. He came right away, happy to put everything behind him so he could move on with his new lover. No one really knows what was said between the two, but before you know it, he walks out of her room, holding a bloody knife, his face grief-stricken. They found Clara on the floor, riddled with fifteen stab wounds. She died instantly, one of the wounds puncturing her lungs. As time went on, those who visited the house and stayed here, report spirits of men and sometimes Clara herself. It seems she goes after couples, her heart full of malice, still distraught that her relationship didn’t work out.”

“We speculate that if she couldn’t be happy, then why should other couples be happy. There have been other deaths within these walls since then, all at the hands of Clara’s ghost. It started with the women and then progressed to the men. Now she enlists the spirits of the men who passed within these walls to target the guests, having them kill in the manner in which they were murdered.”

Felix stopped, taking a breath and looking at both of you. You were in shock, your brain trying to catch up with this information.

“So, all of the men I’ve encountered...” you didn’t finish the sentence, willing to hear it confirmed by Felix. It all made sense…the violent mannerisms you’ve experienced at the hands of the men, all except for one; but, you willed yourself not to think of him, how you gave yourself up so willingly to a stranger.

“Yes, all are victims of Clara and the manor, enlisted to carry out her revenge.” Felix responded.

You watched as he fiddled his thumbs, not looking at you. Something seemed off with him, but you weren’t sure what.

“I saw names in a book, were those the name of those that died here?” You asked, scooting to the edge of your seat.

Felix meerly nodded, still not looking at you and Chan.

“Thank you Felix, I think we will take our leave now. I don’t think we’ll be staying the extra night after all,” you said.

Chan looked at you in shock, but said nothing. You pulled him along, past Felix, through the doors and up the stairs. Once behind the doors of your room, you began to pack, throwing everything in your bag, not caring about folding anything.

You were scurrying around the room when Chan stopped you, his hand on your wrist.

“Y/n, stop!” He said, pulling you to him. “Will you wait, let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about?” You asked in a frenzy. “We’re being targeted, we need to leave. Now.”

Chan regarded you for a moment, his eyes looking deeply into yours. He rubbed soothing circles on your hips, attempting to calm you down. You hated when he did this, knowing the effect it has on you.

You were starting to calm down, your breathing slowing, your mind clearing of the horrors you just learned, but you also felt something else build within. You felt the heat within your core slowly spread throughout your body.

Chan pulled you closer until your lips met, the kiss gentle at first before turning more frenzied. You mewled as you felt Chan pull your leggings and panties down hurriedly, pushing you onto the bed. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his sweats down enough to free his cock.

You spread your legs, your slick leaking out, coating your folds causing them to glisten. You realized it never really stopped since you arrived at this retched place. He grinned at how wet you were, dragging his cock from your clit to your entrance, pushing his cock into your little hole, the slide easy with how wet you were, taking him to the hilt.

You both groaned in unison, as he began to pummel into you, as he dragged his lips along your neck, placing uncoordinated kisses on your skin. You gripped the edges of his hair, holding his head to you as he continued to thrust quickly, his cock brushing against your spongy spot, taking you higher and higher.

You were lost in Chan, your mind forgetting about what you just heard, everything you’ve learned. You were wrapped up in Chan, letting yourself go as Chan’s cock bullied itself within your walls. You felt close, and you knew Chan was too as his thrusts became more sporadic as he tried to get you both over the edge.

You were so close to your release until you opened your eyes and noticed a figure above you.

A beautiful woman in period clothing, the gown stained in a dark maroon, holes scattered throughout the fabric. Her brown hair hung down her face in ringlets, causing her face to appear pale in comparison. She had a glow around her frame, giving her a ghoulish appearance. There was malice in her eyes as she stared down at you, as Chan continued to pump his cock into you, none the wiser to who stood behind him.

You screamed and pushed Chan off of you, watching as he stumbled, his eyes in disbelief. You scrambled to get your clothes back on as Chan stuttered, wondeing what was wrong.

“Let’s go!” You said, rushing to grab your bag even though you weren’t done packing.

Chan couldn’t get a word in, but pulled his sweats up and followed after you, running to catch up with you. You both made it down the stairs, pass the desk, pass Felix who watched you both in shock. You flung open the front doors and continued to run, not stopping until you got to your car.

“I guess I’ll follow you home,” Chan said, confusion still on his face.

You nodded as you got into your car, throwing your bag into the back seat. You started your car and pulled away, exhaling with relief as the manor grew smaller behind you.

As you got closer to the entrance, you gasped as you looked through the rearview mirror at the manor. What you saw made the color drain from your face.

Not only was Felix standing on the stairs, but also the other victims, Jeongin, Minho, Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin, and Clara. They all watched you drive away, not happy their victims got away.

Of course Felix was there, as you just realized he was a victim too. Your mind briefly wondered how he became a victim, but you stopped yourself immediately, not really caring.

You shook your head and faced forward, driving away from the weekend from hell, never to look back again.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[alyssawritcs]

WINDOW   WATCHING   (   a   trevante  rhodes   fanfic   )   . one  -  shot  .

love   interest   :   trevante  rhodes  (  specifically  2016  -  2019  tre  ) rating   :   m  as  shit  .  (  smut  ,  drinking  ,  smoking  ,  voyeurism  ,  masturbation  ,  public  sex  ,  plain  ol'  p in v sex  ) wc   :   6.7k author's   note   :   this  is  so  old  ngl  ,  i  wrote  this  like  five  years  ago  and  never  posted  it  so  my  apologies  if  anything  feels  off  time  -  wise  .  this  was  pre  -  pandemic  even  !  but  yeah  ,  harking  back�� to  my  moonlight  /  tre  obsessed  phase  ugh  what  a  time  !

The hardest part about moving into the off campus housing for Ashley was the fact that she had to pay for laundry. 

Back in DuBois Hall, where she'd lived for the past two years, there was free laundry. It was one of the few perks she liked, other than her friends always being within arm’s reach. Now, she lived in a small studio apartment just ten minutes away from D-Hall and she had to be scrounging up quarters for her to be able to wash her damn clothes. 

Therefore, she was happy most of her friends had remained in the dorms and were more than happy to let her swipe their student IDs so she could get into the laundry room on her old floor and take care of business. Every Thursday, she'd roll her little wheel-y hamper over to the U-shaped building, enter on the left side, and ride the elevator to the ninth floor where she would spend three hours with her friends while she waited for her shit to wash and then dry. 

This Sunday was no different, other than that it was a little later in the evening than usual. It was only nine o'clock when she'd thrown her clothes into the dryer and was walking back toward her friends Imani & Serena’s room. Suddenly, a group of giggling girls ran in before her. When Ashley turned the corner, there were about ten girls in the room, all gathered around the large window on the other side of the room. 

“What are y'all doing?” Ashley pushed through the crowd, standing next to Imani who had a pair of binoculars, of all things. 

“You know Nikki?” Imani asked. 

“Ugh, of course I know Nikki.” Nikki was a cheerleader. Nikki had a slim little body with an ass that turned heads. Nikki had fucked almost half of all the frats on campus. Ashley usually wasn't in the business of slutshaming but when you made it a point to brag about sleeping with other girls’ men in their faces like it was a prize, she was more than okay laughing at the jokes made about you. 

“Well, her room this year is across the courtyard, a couple floors down. We think it’s a single and her bed is right next to the window.” Imani held out the binoculars to Ashley, who had to smack away some girl’s hand so she could take it. “And it looks like she's got Tre in there right now.”

“Tre? Trevante Tre?” Ashley hurriedly looked through the binoculars and couldn't help the gasp she let out. 

Tre was the captain of the school’s football team, the quarterback, in a prominent frat, and by far, the finest nigga at Laurent U -- and it looked like he was tearing Nikki apart. 

She was on her knees with him behind her, face mushed into the mattress as he went to town on her. His dark body was muscly and glistening, sweat dripping down his body. The way his hips were pistoning into her, the way his hands gripped her hips, one of them rising up to smack her ass once, twice - it was far too much. His pearly white teeth bit down on his bottom lip before he slowed himself down, drawing himself almost completely out of her and then ramming himself back in. The gold chain around his neck glimmered in the light. The other girls made various noises of approval and Ashley hadn't realized it but she did too. 

“He's way too fuckin’ good at this. He just had practice like, two hours ago! How does he have the damn strength?” Serena stood on the other side of Ashley, fully leaning on the window glass. 

“He's a goddamn superhero, sis. He ain't letting up either, she’s barely hanging on.” Imani replied. 

She wasn't wrong. From what Ashley could see, Nikki was gripping the sheets like she was holding on for dear life and if she'd had any arch in her back before, it was gone now. She went to place her hand on his lower stomach but he caught her wrist and lifted her upper body so his chest was pressed to her back. He said something to her as he rolled his hips up, holding her in that position for a minute as she nodded. Then he let her fall forward, pulling out of her but only long enough for him to flip her onto her back and reinsert himself. He placed both her feet onto his shoulders as he turned them on her daybed so he was standing beside it, now facing the window. 

“Oop, he switched positions. Gimme my shit back!” Imani snatched the binoculars back from Ashley, who just sucked her teeth. 

“Y'all are so nasty. This is such an invasion of privacy.” She shook her head, the black curly tendrils from her simple high ponytail bouncing around on top of her slick hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, still not taking her eyes off the window. 

“Stop watching it then.” Serena pursed her lips. 

There was a beat. 

“I ain’t say all that now.” The other girls chuckled at that. For a couple minutes, they all stood at the window, heads slightly tilted, mouths a bit ajar, as they watched Tre drive himself into Nikki over and over again. There was almost complete silence in the room. Ashley pressed her thighs together slightly, the denim from her jeans rubbing against her cotton thong. It was entrancing. 

Tre seemed to finally finish (“he was going for at least thirty minutes” said Serena) and he pulled out of her, taking off the full condom and throwing it into a trashcan. He grabbed a couple of wet wipes from Nikki’s dresser and helped wipe her down (“what a true southern gentleman” said Imani). Nikki was seemingly in a state of bliss, just smiling up at the ceiling. Just as he was finishing sliding his grey sweatpants up over his boxer briefs, he looked up and out the window, directly at theirs. 

All of the girls shrieked and ducked, including Ashley who hid right underneath the windowsill next to a cackling Imani. Some of the girls ran out of the room. 

“This ain't funny, Mani! We look like perverts!” Ashley scolded her. 

“We are! But that nigga was putting on a whole show. A performance, if you will. Matter of fact ...” She grabbed a nearby notebook and Sharpie, quickly writing down 10/10 on it. She pressed it against the window while still laughing her ass off. 

“You are too damn much. I'm leaving!” Ashley couldn't help but laugh too, along with Serena, as she duck-walked out of the room, still afraid of Tre seeing her. “Goodnight, ya nasties!”

Quickly, Ashley walked over to the laundry room, gathered all her now dry clothes into the hamper, grabbed her keys out of Imani & Serena’s room, and rolled her hamper into the elevator. Once she got onto the main floor, she headed out onto the courtyard and checked her phone. It was nearing 9:45. 

Damn, he had been going for a while. She thought to herself as she walked towards the parking lot. 

She hadn't even noticed the figure sitting on the bench to her right until he spoke. 

“Enjoy the show?”

She nearly jumped out her slides at the sound of his voice, turning her head only to come face to face with the man himself, Tre. 

“I - I - I -” She stuttered and looked up at him, seemingly losing the ability to speak. He stepped towards her, the smell of sweat mixed with deodorant and some bomb ass cologne invading her senses. 

“Front row seat, huh?” He had the nerve to have a little smirk on his face as he said it. He looked down at her, eyes raking over her tank top and blue jeans, an otherwise normal outfit for the middle of September in the Louisiana heat. Yet, a shiver ran through her spine, despite the humidity in the air. She cursed her decision to go without a bra as she could feel her nipples hardening. He hadn't so much as looked her over and here Ashley was, nearly standing in a puddle. “Imagine my surprise when I finish with ol’ girl, I look up and the cute shorty from my econ class is staring dead at me. Had a nigga gassed.”

He licked his lips and circled around her, stopping behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Next time, if you wanna be the star, come and find me. I got you, baby.”

His Louisiana accent shone through on that last part and it nearly had Ashley weak in the knees. He walked away, toward the parking lot, leaving a very turned on Ashley standing in that courtyard with her little hamper and a whole lot of dirty thoughts. 

Ashley’s tiny little studio apartment was starting to sound like a barbershop. 

It had been three days since The Perving™️ ( mani had named it that) and Ashley hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tre since. Between the memories of him naked and their little conversation afterwards, she had plenty of ideas that kept her little vibrator going. She'd already had to change out the batteries and it was during said change that she realized, maybe this shit was getting ridiculous. 

As the weekend came to an end and Ashley was forced to leave her dorm on Sunday night to return to the girls’ room, she recounted the story to both of her best friends. 

“Wait wait wait - he said this to you and you didn't IMMEDIATELY jump that nigga’s bones? Are you dumb?” Imani exclaimed, sitting up in her twin sized bed. Serena pushed Ashley’s head in disbelief. 

“Ow! No, I didn't! I was shocked, I just kinda stood there and didn't say nothing. I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to speak.” Ashley played with the fringes of her shorts to avoid looking at Imani, who was staring her down in complete disappointment. 

“You gotta fuck him. Do it for us, in our honor. We gotta know if Nikki was just over exaggerating or if that man truly is that talented.” Serena spoke up from her bed.

“Yeah, that'll happen. Keep dreaming y'all.” And that was the end of that, as far as Ashley was concerned. She had decided that she was just going to keep to herself, mind her business, and keep it pushing. Tre was a nonfactor in her life, just another part of her spank bank. He hadn't mattered before, he wasn't gonna matter now. 

Still, when Tuesday came around and the reminder that she had their shared econ class that afternoon at one dawned on her, Ashley may have decided to put a little extra effort into her appearance. She swore, to herself, that the Fenty body lava she was applying was so she could take cute pictures later. That the neon pink bodycon tank dress paired with the long white cardigan she fished out from the back of her closet were simply cute clothes and not because they accentuated her skin tone like nothing else. It also definitely wasn't because she'd spent the last six months in the gym doing squats so she knew she looked good as hell in the damn outfit. It wasn't none of that. The girl was simply going to econ, like she had already for weeks and like she would until the end of the semester. 

After properly doing her hair and applying minimal makeup, Ashley was slipping on her white slip on Vans and throwing her big ass snakeskin purse onto her shoulder. She drove the five minutes back to campus where she bought herself an iced tea from the cafe & quickly headed over to the class, taking her regular seat in the back left hand corner. 

She was fifteen minutes early but that was good. That meant she wouldn't have to run into him and could instead keep a watchful eye for the six foot two masterpiece as he walked in. She was sitting there, one AirPod in, sipping her tea when the sound of raucous laughter from the hallway seeped into the room and she knew he had arrived. He seemed to go everywhere with an entourage - a side effect of being that well known, Ash supposed. 

Turning to face forward so she wouldn't appear like she had been door watching, she quickly inserted the other AirPod and turned up the volume on her Megan the Stallion while flipping through her textbook. The act seemed to work for a minute or two before two thick ass arms caged her in from behind. She removed her headphones. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Ash turned her head to look up at him and immediately, the smell of his cologne invaded her senses. It was the same smell from the other night except now even stronger, though she couldn’t decide if it was better or worse when mixed with sweat. What a freak ass thought.

“I was wondering if you was gonna show up today - was tryna see if you got scared.” His voice was low in her ear and when she turned more, they were face to face, noses practically touching. 

“And what was I supposed to be scared of, exactly?” 

“I think I got an idea of what you might be scared of.” He answered with a smirk and then a lick of his lips. Jesus, be a fence. 

Still, Ashley played it cool, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t scared of you or what you got in ya pants, sir. Don't you have to find your seat?”

“Oh but I already got one?” At her raised eyebrow, his mouth broke out into a full on grin, white teeth and all. “If you wanna lift up, I can slide on under you and we can get this class crackin’.”

Ashley couldn’t help the laugh she let out and he chuckled with her. She turned back, waving her hand at him. “Boy, good-bye. Get to your seat Trevante.”

There was a beat then regrettably his arms lifted from around her and his smell already started to fade away. “Aight, I'll get to my seat.” With that, he slid from behind her chair and situated himself to the right of her. 

Ashley had picked this spot because while there were nearly fifty people in the class, it was a huge lecture hall and most everyone was seated in the middle or right sections. Up here in her corner, she was all alone, with no one behind her. The people in front of her were several rows down. It had been just her while Tre typically sat in the middle sections, front & center. They were far too alone up here. This was not good. 

Class had started and Tre hadn't moved and Ashley was sure she was gonna die. He had gotten very comfortable, leaning back in his chair, worksheets out and his textbook open in front of him as the professor droned on & on. It was boring as hell, as per usual, but Ashley was so hyper aware of Tre’s presence that she couldn't focus on anything else. She hadn't even looked at him since he sat down next to her. 

She could see him moving out the corner of her eye, leaning forward onto the desk with his left arm. He whispered low enough for only her to hear. 

“You look like somebody finna bust down them doors and hurt you, shawty. You needa calm down. Relax.” Slowly, Ash felt his big ass hand slide up her calf and over her knee, stopping right at the end of her thigh, millimeters away from where her dress ended. 

He was sitting up straighter now and she was holding her breath, unable to speak. To anyone else, they looked like two students patiently listening to their professor but one look at the way Ashley was gripping her pen and you could tell something was amiss. 

It was only when he slid his chair closer to hers and his fingers slipped under the material of her dress that she moved. Her hand clamped down his thick ass forearms, freezing his fingers where they were - right on her inner thigh. 

“What the fuck do you think you doing?” She gritted out, her teeth clenched together. 

He waited until she made direct eye contact with him and then whispered. “Making you relax.”

Her grip loosened out of shock and his fingers continued on their path, the heat coming from between her thighs seeming to call to him. She bit her lip in anticipation before jumping a little when his middle finger swiped gently over her pussy through the material covering it. 

“Is that lace? Hm, I bet that shit looks amazing on you. What color is it?” He whispered, letting his finger continue to stroke over her mound. “Hm? Can you even remember right now?”

“Green. It's green.” Ashley managed to breathe out. 

“I like green. Almost as much as I like pink on you.” Now, his index finger had joined his middle in the stroking and Ashley could feel the material of her panties getting wetter by the second, so she knew he could too. “You like this huh? You got these big innocent eyes and got everyone fooled into thinking you're some little angel but clearly, you a little freak like me. Look at you, wet already and I ain't even get to the good part.”

Ashley closed her eyes for a second, still lightly gripping his forearm before she reopened them to look him directly in his again. “So get to the good part.”

His jaw clenched and they continued their eye contact for a second before Ashley looked back at the professor. “Aight then, but you asked for this, remember that.”

First, his thumb rubbed her clit through the material, causing Ashley's thighs to clench together for a second before Tre pushed them apart again. She felt his two fingers from before push the lace to the side and make direct contact with her lips, running over the slick that now covered it. They were thick as hell so when he finally dipped his fingers in past the lips, it felt like she was already filled up to the max. 

Her mouth opened in a near perfect O and Tre kept his eyes on her lips as he slowly pumped in & out of her. She closed her mouth after a second but the grip on his arm tightened. That seemed to only encourage him forward, fingers picking up pace as his thumb now rubbed that little bundle of nerves that sat tight at the top. When he curled his fingers inside her, Ashley could feel her stomach coil. Her gaze was still on the professor, who was giving his closing remarks. 

“Oh, you finna cum huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers, right here in the middle of class?” Tre picked up the pace of his fingers, now driving into her at an almost brutally slow but deliberate pace, watching her bite down on her lip so hard he was sure she was going to draw blood. 

She nodded meekly and held back a whimper, nails digging into his arm while she clenched her thighs together as much as they could go with his hand between them. He watched her close her eyes and twitch once, twice, three times, her walls gripping his fingers in a vice. Now all he could imagine was her pussy doing that to his dick and he didn't think it was possible, but his shit got harder. 

Her nipples were hard, her legs were shaking slightly, her pupils dilated - if this was how she reacted to just his fingers, he couldn't wait to see her after a good three or four rounds with Junior. 

While she was still catching her breath and the class was starting to pack up their things, he slipped his finger out from in her, sliding her panties back into place. She quickly gathered her materials into her purse before they both stood up, chest to chest, hers still heaving slightly. He looked down at her with a smirk as he sucked his index finger into his mouth. 

“Just like a good cobbler.” He went to do the same to his middle finger but she grabbed his wrist before he could and sucked the finger herself, letting her tongue roll over the top of the finger before she let it go with a pop & a smirk. 

“See you Thursday.”

She wasn't going to see him on Thursday, Ashley remembered as she ate dinner while watching TV in her apartment. Tre was the quarterback and as the quarterback, he had to lead his team to a win against their rival, across the state that same week. The only way she was gonna see Tre that weekend was if she joined the rest of the school to watch the game live on Friday night. 

Which she did. 

Imani and Serena had dragged her down to the local bar where they were airing the game & had a five dollar deal for 15 wings. A two for one deal as far as Ashley was concerned. She opted to not tell the girls about what happened in class, instead wanting to keep it to herself for just a little bit longer. Not forever, just until she could figure out what the fuck she was even doing with this nigga. 

Come Saturday morning, all Ashley could think about was going out that night and getting drunk. Drunk her always managed to figure shit out for sober her anyway. 

There were three frats on campus but Rho Nu Tau always put on the best parties, even more so now that they had the three star players on the football team as official brothers. Ashley’s first real college party way back during her freshman year had been a Rho party and she remembers a tiny pledge named Tre running around being an errand boy as a part of his initiation. Clearly, he wasn't taking orders no more. 

Imani and Serena were standing beside Ashley in the backyard as they shared a blunt with two boys she recognized from the dorms, damn near freezing their asses off in their little FashionNova fits when there was a cheer from inside the house. Ash almost went to check out what was going on when the blunt was passed to her and she was heartily distracted. 

It took only a couple more minutes for her to get tired of shivering and walk back into the kitchen, eyes low & mink lashes fluttering. A vodka and pink lemonade was calling her name. After fixing herself the drink, she began to wade through the crowd before bumping shoulders with a familiar face.

“Ashley, you always bumping into me, damn!”

She looked up to see her bio lab partner, Alex, smiling down at her. He was cute, in a nerdy type of way, and totally not her type but he always made her laugh in class. She let her lips spread into a small grin before play shoving him back.

“I know you not talking, clown. What’re you even doing here, I thought you’d be locked in your room binge watching some new anime or something?”

“Oh, you got jokes? Nah, Rho’s game celebration parties always be the best ones, you know that.”

They stood talking to one another for a couple more seconds before You by Lola Brooke & Bryson Tiller started playing overhead. Ashley started bopping her head on beat and Alex raised his eyebrow at her, smiling all wide & shit. She rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink and pulling him further onto the makeshift dance floor where all the bodies were grinding against one another. She turned around, pressing her ass right up against his crotch and began moving her hips and her ass in accordance with the beat. Now, she wasn’t no expert but all those years of high school cheerleading and dancing in the mirror did have their payoffs.

Alex’s hands remained on her hips and as the song progressed, Ashley could feel eyes on her. She looked up at the top of the staircase where Tre was standing with two more of the team’s players, his eyes trained on her and Alex. His jaw was clenched tight from what she could see and the veins in his arms were bulging as he death gripped that railing. 

Now, Alex had always made it very clear that his type of woman was always more the Dua Lipa type than the Rihanna so Ashley knew he wasn’t interested in her like that but damn it if it didn’t amuse her a little to see Tre standing up there all jealous while she threw it back for another man. If anything, the sight of him reinvigorated her and suddenly, she was putting a lot more work into her dance with Alex. The song did come to an end, however, and JT Coming filtered through the speakers which meant that Imani would be in Ashley’s face within the second. 

Like clockwork, right on time for JT’s verse, Imani pushed through the crowd to get to Ashley as they screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces. Alex had disappeared at the beginning of the song but returned with a closed bottle of water for both himself and Ashley. Serena was not far behind and soon the four of them were dancing around one another with the music. It didn’t take long for Serena and Alex to start dancing together instead. As much fun as she was having, Ashley couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift off to Tre, who had vanished from his post at the top of the steps.

Role Model by Brent Faiyez was playing as Ashley looked around for a bathroom half an hour later, her high slowly wearing off and the two bottles of water plus her cups of alcohol finally getting to her. The bathroom downstairs had a line wrapped down the hallways but luckily for her, she knew that there were several upstairs. Unluckily, all the ones in the hallways were also sporting lines so that left her to seek out one of the en suites. Almost every one of the doors were locked except for the one at the far end of the hall. She’d never been this far into the house before but she need to pee so she said fuck it and pushed open the door. 

The bathroom was on the other side of the darkened room, lit up only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She rushed over, locked the door behind her, and took care of her business. As she was washing her hands, Ash looked over her hair and makeup, surprised to see both in pretty good condition considering she was sweating like a whore in church. She figured at the very least, she’d be dealing with excessive frizz or her eyelashes falling off but she was all set. Ain’t God good?

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she took in where she was. There was a little desk to her left and a bookshelf to her right. Looking at the shelves, she noticed trophies, ribbons, medals, certificates - all the clear signs of a winner. There was a picture of a beautiful woman holding a precious little black boy and then another of a family standing with a tall young man wearing a football helmet. Her eyes focused, however, on the number six on his jersey and then subsequently, the sign the woman was holding: “Congrats Trevante!” She gasped and stepped away from the shelf, accidentally falling backwards onto the queen sized bed just as the door opened and in came Trevante himself.

It was awkward for a moment, but he quickly let a smirk take over his features as he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest to look down at her. From this angle, staring up at him, she was almost face to face with his crotch. She had to refrain from biting her lip. 

“Now, how’d you manage to find my room of all the rooms in the house?” He licked his lips, unmoving from the position and ever so slightly thrusting his hips forward. 

“Completely by accident, don’t get too excited.” She answered, sitting up and twisting her body to face his. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“There are three public bathrooms in the house.”

“With lines damn near going out the door. I figured one of the big guys would have an en suite and I was right.”

“Oh so I’m a big guy now?”

Yes sir, you definitely are. “You know what I meant.”

“Well, why didn’t you ask that nigga you were dancing with if he had a bathroom at his place? It seemed like y’all were having a good time.” His smirk dropped and he crossed over to the desk, sitting on the spinning chair. Ashley's head tilted and she let out a small laugh.

“Is Trevante jealous? Oh my my!” He rolled his eyes as she got up from the bed, dancing over to him while singing “Tre’s jealous! He’s jealous! Very jealous!”

He stood back up and they were suddenly chest to chest, abruptly putting an end to her singing. His large fingers gripped her wrist tightly, and she looked up at his beautiful face. She was physically closer to him at this moment than ever before, even in the courtyard and in the classroom. 

“Why would I be jealous? That nigga can’t make you cum like I did, in a public place, with two fingers. He ain't the one you think about when you in bed late at night, right? That’s me, all in your dreams, in your head - that’s Tre right?”

For a second, she lost her breath but she could see that smirk creeping back onto his lips and a part of her snapped.

“What about you Tre? You been thinking about me?” She trailed her hand down his pants to the waistband of his jeans, letting her fingers play with the button for a second. “When you in this bed at night, playing with this big dick of yours -” her fingers wrapped around his growing bulge through the denim and she heard his breath hitch. “- are you thinking about this pussy? How tight it was? How wet it was? Thinking about how many rounds you’d last with me?”

He didn’t answer, instead wrapping one large hand around her throat and letting it slide around to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his in a fierce kiss that took her breath away. She let out a sigh, one hand still on his dick and the other on his neck. Their tongues fought for dominance for a minute before Tre bent down to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and easing them both onto the bed. His lips made their way from her lips to her throat, her legs tightening around him as he hit her sweet spot at the part where her ears met her neck.

His hands were moving at a pace so slow, Ash almost screamed. He was ghosting over her tits, fingers almost brushing against her nipples but not quite yet. It wasn’t until he pulled the neckline of the shirt down to reveal her pretty blue bra did he finally pinch her nipples through the material. Her hips bucked up at that and she could feel him smirk against her throat before he sat up a little to help her pull off the shirt. He pulled the cups down and immediately dove in, pulling one of the hard buds into his mouth as she let out a groan of pleasure. He knew exactly what he was doing, his finger expertly twisting the other one.

“You’re way too good at this.” She managed to get out and he chuckled, letting her go with a pop. 

“I’m good at a lot of things.” He bit his lips, kissing down her bare skin as he unbuttoned her jeans. “Wanna see what else I’m good at?”

If she wasn’t wet already, she was sure that the combo of how he was looking up at her along with those words would’ve flooded her panties anyways. He pulled her pants down and off, throwing them on to the floor before sliding a finger over the material covering her pussy. She held back a whimper, which proved to be even harder when he gently pushed it to the side and blew on her weeping slit. 

Her matching blue thong was the next thing to come off and he looked up at her with a smile, pushing her legs up so they were bent. “Hold onto the back of your knees for me, sweetheart, and don’t let go. If you let go, I’mma stop. We clear?”

She couldn’t formulate words at that moment so he would have to do with her following his instructions and nodding her head yes, letting out a little ‘mhm’ through bitten lips.

“That’s a good girl. You a good girl right?” She jumped as he lightly smacked her clit, almost letting go of her legs but not quite yet. “Answer me, Ashley.”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” She managed to grit out.

“Good girls get rewarded, don’t they?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead diving straight into to put his oh so talented mouth on her pussy. She was biting her lip again, holding back the moans trying to claw their way out. He paused for a moment, spreading her lips with his fingers as he did so. “Uh-uh. I wanna hear you. Let that shit out shawty.”

He went right back to it, thrusting his tongue in & out of her with a force. She could feel one of his thick fingers playing with her clit and she was sure she was letting out noises but honestly, the whole thing was starting to feel like an out of body experience. Her hands gripped the backs of her thighs even tighter as her back arched up. His tongue replaced his finger on her clit and then he inserted that finger into her pussy, followed by a second one. The two together were driving her insane and causing small sweat beads to formulate on her stomach and chest.

“Oh fuck, Tre, I’m gonna cum, oh fuck fuck fuck!” Her moans were breathy, her legs beginning to shake in her hands as she could feel the coil start in her stomach. He nodded his head as he sucked her clit into his mouth and picked up the pace of his fingers. When his fingers curled upwards into her, tapping the roof of her pussy, she dropped her legs on his shoulders and let out a small scream, cumming right into his mouth. He didn’t stop as she was cumming, lapping her up like some whipped cream. He finally pulled away a couple seconds after she finished, sliding back up her body to give a wet kiss on the lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Ash ran her fingers over his defined abs, popping open the button on his jeans and pushing the pants down with her feet. He was practically bursting out of his briefs at that point but she made quick work of those too. 

“Condom, condom - get a condom Tre.” She managed to squeak out in between kisses and he pulled away, looking at her for a moment. “What?”

It took him a second but he shook his head. “Nothing. I got you.” He pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out a Magnum from an already open box. “I’mma finish this box with you, trust me.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She smirked, biting her bottom lip as he tore open the wrapper with his teeth. “Here, let me.”

Tre closed his eyes as she stroked his member, using the precum at the tip to lubricate the nine inches of him she could. Her hand tightened a bit at the base before sliding back up to slip the condom over him. She was still stroking him as she led him toward her opening, spreading her legs wider for him.

Now, Ash had had sex with a total of two people in her life but neither of them had ever been as big as Tre. Just the tip of him was enough for her to let her mouth open into a perfect ‘O’. She wasn't even sure he could fit all of himself in there but Lord knows, he was gonna give it the good ol’ college try. She moaned as he pushed through, pleasure ripping through every part of her, and kept going until he was fully inside of her. 

“Please fuckin’ move, Tre.” She whimpered. 

“Gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart. If I move right now, I ain't gonna give you that show you wanted.” His lips connected with hers and then his hips began to thrust into her, rolling. She sighed into the kiss and tried to meet him thrust for thrust. He pulled his head away to bury into her neck. “Fuck, you feel good girl. You been hidin’ this shit from me?”

She wanted to respond smartly but her brain wasn’t formulating cohesive thoughts at the moment. Instead, she dragged her nails down his glistening back and moaned out his name like a chant - “Tre, Tre, Tres, yesssss.”

“S’tight, oh my fucking -” His own thoughts were jumbled as he drove in to her, winding his hips, trying to prolong the moment. He knew that, with the way shit was going, he was gonna have to make her cum at least once more and fast or else he was gonna ruin his own reputation and leave her hanging.

“Right there, yes!” Ashley exclaimed as his thick finger came down to rub her clit again, which paired with the motions of his hips extremely well. Her hands had slid down to his side as he lifted himself up on his arms and she let her nails dig into his skin, creating little marks there he’d probably get whistles about in the locker room tomorrow. “You’re so good, Tre, yes, yes, yes!” 

Her last yes came out as a squeal as he picked up his pace, rubbing faster and thrusting without abandon. She could feel that coil in her stomach again, moaning over and over again. Tre felt her tighten around him and let her ride out her second orgasm of the night before his hips began to stutter. He groaned out his release, nearly collapsing on top of her.

“Gahdamn!” He exclaimed, which made her laugh. She whined a bit as he pulled out of her, taking the condom off and climbing out of the bed to walk into the bathroom. He returned moments later, prompting her to rush in after him to clean herself up. When she came back, he’d pulled back the covers and was laying beneath them. She looked at him for a minute with her head tilted. “What?”

“I don’t know, I was expecting for you to make a run for it like ...” Ashley trailed off but he caught her drift. 

“Like with Nikki? Well first of all, this is my room this time so not really any option.” He laughed when she scoffed and held up the blanket, patting the spot next to him. She hurried to get under the covers, still naked like he was. “I also kinda wanna keep you around ... to finish off the box, of course.”

“Of course.” She smirked, tucking into his side. 

“So?” He inquired. She raised her eyebrow. “Was it as good as it looked from across the courtyard?”

“Hmm ... I think I might need a couple more encores to truly decide.” She tapped her chin like she was deliberating and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’ll show you an encore.” Ashley let out a small shriek that quickly turned into a moan as he rolled her on top of him and began to kiss down her neck, dragging his thick fingers down her body to get her ready all over again.

[hexgirl13]

helena

wc: 941

summary: when you feel alone and down, punk is there to pick up the pieces for you

warnings(?): helena is reader's ring name, reader has piercings, cussing, age gap (punk is like 35, reader is around 22-23) mentions of fighting/blood, he calls reader 'kid' a few times, uhh i think that's it?

a/n: ugh cm punk is soo smexy and there's barely anything written abt him 🥀 so i just decided to do it myself. this is set in like, 2014 wwe (peak wrestling era) and yes i did get the title from a mcr song, i just love the name/song too much to not use it

blood trickled down your nose as you limped down the long rampway. cheers of your name filled the large arena, echoing in your ears. you had finally done it. you won the divas championship… but at what cost? being a woman in wrestling wasn’t easy.

hardly anyone ever took you seriously, much less so when you weren't willing to sleep your way to the top. you wanted to really earn it. and in doing so, you had to break a few bones and hearts along the way. in the ring laid paige, the woman who you just beat to earn this title. the same woman who used to be your best friend. the two of you were at the top of the divas division, dominating any and all who tried to challenge the two of you.

deep down, you knew that if you wanted to reach the top, you'd have to overthrow paige. the weight of the title was heavy on your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the one that was on your heart. before you headed backstage, you took one more look at paige. she was holding the back of her neck, shivering in the corner of the ring. even from this far, though, you noticed the little dip she did with her head. a sign of respect, her silent way of saying that even though she lost, she was proud that she lost to you. a small smile graced your face as you finally walked backstage.

if you thought that the arena was loud, you didn’t expect the cheers that greeted you as soon as you entered. both men and women, from raw and smackdown, began yelling out your name, clapping you on the shoulder, and even a few hugs. you gratefully thanked each and every one of them, slipping away when their attention had turned away from you.

still limping, you moved as fast as you could to get to your changing room. however, you bumped into a fellow raw wrestler, cm punk. he was over a decade older than you, but the two of you were good friends. he was even a mentor of yours in some sort. did you have a slight crush on him? yes. would you ever tell him? fuck no.

the fake smile you had on earlier seemed to brighten up a bit. “hey, punk,” you greeted.

he smirked down at you. “hey, kid. congrats on the win,” he replied, pointing at the divas championship.

“yeah… yeah, thanks,” you said, dropping your head.

he quirked his eyebrow, noticing the almost defeated tone of voice you had. “why you sounding so defeated? this is what you wanted, right? to win?”

you nodded, bringing your gaze back up to his. “of course it is but… it just sucks, i guess. paige was my best friend. my only friend here. now i don't even have her. what’s the point of winning if you have no one to share it with?”

punk listened intently to your words. his eyes focused on your face, watching the way your nose twitched, making your septum piercing glimmer in the light. after you were done talking, he just opened his arms. he didn’t need to say anything for you to practically throw yourself into him. one of his arms wrapped around your waist, while the other pulled the title off of you, setting it down on the ground. he brought his large hand to cradle the back of your head, holding you into his chest.

“i know it's hard, kid. and it fucking sucks. i’ve been wrestling for a long ass time. but… that's just the way of the game, and i know you know that. i’m proud of you, though. i watched you out there and you fought like hell.”

you pulled back a bit, looking up at him. unshed tears brewed in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “you watched me?” you asked.

“hell yeah, i did,” he said, his thumb coming down to swipe away some of the dried blood under your nose. “i’ve never seen you fight like that before. you even used my finishing move.”

you chuckled under your breath. “yeah, i forgot i did that. my bad.”

he shook off your apology. “nah, you did that shit almost perfectly. might need to retire it and give it to you. call it helena’s hooker or some shit.”

a snort escaped you at the name. “dude, that’s a stupid ass finisher name.”

“hey! i never said it was perfect, alright? work in progress,” he retorted, mocking offense. he was glad to see that you were seemingly in a better mood than before.

“no, but, seriously. i’m proud of you. it takes balls to fight the way you did tonight, and you proved to everyone how much you deserve that title.”

you let his words sink in. you did deserve this. after dreaming of being a wrestler since you were a little girl, and wrestling indie since you were 17, you never thought those dreams would come true. but now you did.

“yeah, you're right. i do deserve this.”

his smile widened. “i know that's fucking right. besides, you do have someone to celebrate with, me. you'll always have me.” his words caused butterflies to bloom in your chest, but you tried to ignore them.

“now… what do you say we celebrate by drinking?” he offered.

“oh, hell yeah!” you exclaimed.

he bent down to grab your title, and slung it back over your shoulder. he pulled you into one last hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “that’s my fucking girl.”

[rascalthehamster]

HCs of Platonic!Yandere Legoharu with a gn!mole reader friend that starts out as one of Haru's only friends before Legoshi came along and now both are friendship yanderes for mole platonic darling. Please and thank you.

Platonic!Yandere LegoHaru

Being a member of the garden club was natural for a mole like you. Digging came natural, and you loved the smell of dirt. There was only one other person, a dwarf rabbit, whose reputation far preceded her.

You knew about the rumors, you also knew how rumors can change. How a spark can create a forest fire. What really surprised you was her attitude. She was always cheery, almost ambivalent towards the rumors that followed her around. The whispers that she obviously catches with her large ears. Yet, she was nice to you.

She knew you knew about the rumors yet she still treated you fairly. People have come to the roof to make a joke about joining the Garden Club. Her reaction made that clear when you first came with your slip filled out.

“What is it that you want? Here to mock me? Well at least you’re doing it to my face and not behind a corner. Well go ahead, spit it out!”

You were taken aback by her aggression, but still persisted to join her club. She saw that you were serious, and not just trying to yank the carpet from under her.

She wanted to test your will, see just how far she could push you. She made you move around many bags of dirt, just to have to move them again, repot all of the flowers, and clean the clubhouse completely, dusting and sweeping every nook and cranny.

When you did all of that, the sun was beginning to go down and she was still shocked at you not giving up. If it was a prank you wouldn’t have done anything, and if you were just trying to join a club so you could put it on your college resume you would’ve given up by now. She must’ve read you wrong.

She doesn’t apologize upfront to you about misreading the situation, but she did say she wanted to see you the next day. So it seems it’s official, you’re apart of the gardening club.

When you make it to the roof the next day there’s another person there. Someone much larger, and scarier. The grey wolf stares at you silently, sniffing the air softly. You walk past him, ignoring your body screaming at you to run away.

“Excuse me.” He said in a soft tone, keeping his hands behind his back and shrinking his body. “Uhm…” he lifted his hand to scratch his face, the long claws fingering his snout. “Do you know where Haru is? The little dwarf rabbit.” He moved his hand to accentuate just how small Haru was, she barely made it up to his knee.

“I don’t know. Yesterday was my first day so she could be doing something.” You picked up a bag of dirt and began moving it to some plants that looked like it could use some soil.

“Oh, okay.” He said, his voice disheveled and his tail tucked under him.

You felt bad for him. So you offered that he could help you while he waited, which he agreed to do. Canines were always eager to please. He quickly went to work, grabbing triple the amount of bags you could carry and just looked at you as if he wasn’t even strained, his tail happily wagging. “Where do you want these?”

After a few hours of him helping out, cleaning the gutters that towered over you and Haru, grabbing the hose that was put on the top shelf even though you specifically put it on the bottom shelf yesterday, Haru eventually appeared.

She saw you working with Legoshi and started to get excited. She didn’t want to show it so she pretended to get onto Legoshi for messing something up, grinning at you when his back was turned. You just giggled in response.

You began working on some flower beds that weren’t given attention yet when you saw Legoshi and Haru talking to each other. The wolf was knelt down to meet her eyes. When he caught your eyes, Haru also turned and she waved first, Legoshi just stuck out his hand. They were so different yet they were so close you thought.

When you finished up the plant beds Haru appeared behind you and asked if you wanted to go to dinner with her. Well, it went more like “Hey, me and Legoshi are going to head to dinner.” And she grabbed your arm, dragging you away from the plants.

The fresh dirt still on your paws as you were dragged along. You appreciated the invite though. Even if it came with weird stares from carnivores and herbivores alike.

The next thing you knew, Haru was following you all around campus, along with Legoshi who followed Haru all around campus. Haru would study with you, would eat all meals with you. When you woke up she would be right outside your dorm waiting for you. Legoshi also wanted this but was less extreme.

If anybody tried anything with you she would instantly stand up for you, however she had scary boyfriend privileges so the opportunity to prove that she could defend you never showed up. She made you know that she would if you needed it!

LegoHaru as yandere’s would be pretty good in my opinion. As long as you don’t mind a very clingy bunny and wolf I think all will be well.

[doodle-pops]

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

Masterlist

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