#you know when something is going a little too well and you start worrying the fates are about to pull the biggest plot twist?

[starmaidengarden]

@meime13 request: well, I just read ur rules, and it seems ur requests are open based on what u wrote May I request Housewarden + jamil with a s/o (fem, if u don't mind) who doesn't talk much and is always reserved but when her interests are mentioned, she goes on full yapping, sharing all details she knows and sometimes her speech is incoherent from her stutters and fast her speech is, abt her interests i would like u to make interested in astrology and psychology and she finds observing ppl fascinating thing if u don't mind, I would like it to be romantic and in already established relationship I'm sorry if it's too much, u can ignore it if u want to, all in all, I hope u take care of urself

𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐬/𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝!

— Housewardens : jamil : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers : uzmacchiato!

a/n: I accidentally deleted the original request (｡T ω T｡)

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

At first, Riddle felt a bit thrown off by the silence between you two—wondering if he had messed up somehow. But as time went on, he started to really enjoy the warm and cozy vibe that came just from being around you. One afternoon, with sunlight pouring in through the window, you got excited about astrology and started explaining all the cool stuff about retrogrades and birth charts.

Your words flowed out, full of energy and a touch of nerves. Riddle couldn’t take his eyes off you; your passion was adorable. He even looked up the compatibility of your signs, hoping to see if there might be some connection.

With his teacup long forgotten in his hand, he leaned in closer, eyes wide and fully immersed with what you are saying. The way your eyes lit up while you talked had him totally mesmerized; it felt like you were revealing a secret part of yourself. When you finally paused, a bit shy and apologetic for going on so long, Riddle waved your worries away. “No—please, keep going. I love what you're saying,” he said, his voice full of genuine excitement. In that moment, he realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there, soaking up every word.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

He’s pretending to be asleep, all relaxed and still, but you can’t help but notice his tail twitches every time your voice hints at something exciting. You’ve settled in next to him under the tree, with warm sunlight filtering through the leaves, making it the perfect cozy spot. As you start talking, your words come pouring out with all the energy you’ve got, and Leona cracks one eye open, a playful grin forming on his face. “So now the stars are telling people what to do, huh?” he says, his voice teasing. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his light-hearted joke, but you keep going, fueled by your enthusiasm.

He’s really listening, though, nodding along and watching you with a soft look in his eyes as you wave your hands around, totally caught up in your ideas. Even if he doesn’t say a lot while you’re rambling on, you know he’s soaking it all in. Later, he’ll surprise you by mentioning something you talked about, and your heart will skip a beat knowing he remembered every little detail.

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Azul assumed your reserved nature meant you were like him—constantly calculating, he admired how composed you were around others. However, he was totally caught off guard the first time you started throwing out all these fun facts about psychology. He blinked at you through his glasses, a little stunned. You waved your hands, trying to explain subconscious archetypes, your speech getting tangled in your excitement.

Azul absolutely melted inside. He got flustered and attempted to keep up mentally, nodding seriously even though half of what you were saying was flying over his head because you were talking so fast. He started intentionally researching psychology and astrology terms to understand you better, occasionally dropping them into conversation just to see you light up again. he just listens with warm, kind eyes. “Every word you say fascinates me,” he tells you, smiling softly. “Don’t be shy. Share more with me.”

Kalim Al-Asim ༉⋆｡˚

Kalim lives for your little info dumps, utterly enchanted by the way your quiet behavior changes into vibrant energy whenever you swoop into topics like star signs and personality theories. The moment you start talking, he can see your eyes light up, and it’s as if your passion spills over, igniting excitement in the air around you. Occasionally, you get caught up on certain words, searching for just the right way to express your thoughts, yet Kalim remains completely absorbed.

“Wow! Does that mean I’m a Cancer?” he exclaims, eyes sparkling with curiosity. His questions encourage you to express your thoughts, and your voice bursts with excitement, filling the air with liveliness.

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

Jamil sees every detail about you — your soft-spoken nature, your subtle expressions, and especially the spark that ignites when you talk about your passions. The first time you share your thoughts on zodiac signs, he stands there, momentarily stunned by your energy. He blinks, absorbing how quickly you change into this lively version of yourself.

“There she goes again,” he murmurs, utterly endeared. A small smirk pulls at his lips as he comes to love this unfiltered side of you, the one that rarely makes an appearance. When you start to lose your train of thought, he chuckles softly, placing a reassuring hand on your back. “Take a breath, dear. I’m not going anywhere.” he says gently. When you analyze the behavior of those around you, Jamil often teases, “Careful. If you keep being so spot-on, people might start thinking you’re a sorceress.”

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Vil finds your shift into a passionate speaker utterly fascinating. Watching you come alive as you delve into topics like astrology and psychoanalysis fills him. Normally a quiet and gentle presence beside you, he can't help but be drawn in by the energy radiating from you.

As you lie on his bed, rambling on about everything under the sun, he listens closely, fully absorbed in your words while going through his beauty routine. Occasionally, he sets his products aside to give you his complete attention. “Don’t stop,” he encourages with a warm smile, “Your thoughts are as beautiful as the stars you describe.” Your cheeks flush at his compliment, and a warm sweeps over you. Moved by his patience.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Idia was first drawn to you because you were so composed. Unlike the loud, over-the-top people he usually ran into, your quiet nature put him at ease—no pressure, no awkward small talk, just a cozy presence. But things changed one day when he went off on a rant about character alignments—"Lawful Neutral, Chaotic Good, and all that"—and you jumped right in with some deep theories about personality types and why people behave the way they do.

He was so taken aback that it felt like his brain had almost shut down. The first time you became flustered—your words tangled and your speech speeding up as you tried to explain how astrology connects to attachment styles—Idia just stared at you, his hair glowing and huge. He didn't interrupt; instead, he leaned in closer, hugging his knees and listening intently, as if you were telling the most fascinating story he had ever heard. Idia sometimes notices you while you're completely lost in your conversation, your hands waving madly and your eyes shining — and he realizes how alive you are beneath the reserved surface.

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

Malleus has always been genuinely fascinated by you—a fascination that extends beyond mere curiosity. You have a quiet, reflective nature that mirrors his, resulting in an connection between the two of you. As you gradually start to share your interests, a spark ignites in his emerald green eyes, brightening his otherwise stoic demeanor. He leans in closer, his entire attention focused on your words, as if every word contains the key to unlocking another side of you.

Even when your thoughts spill out in a rush, tangled and hasty, he remains patient and engaged, nodding thoughtfully as you speak. "Please, tell me more," he said with genuine respect. "hearing you talk is like music to my ears." At times, he leaned forward, a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he asked you to explain the complexities of human psychology. His fascination with your insights into the "mortal heart" shown how much he valued your viewpoint on it

[mattrempeswife]

WAIT FOR ME, LITTLE ONE

pair: dad!quinn hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, family, domestic, emotional hurt/comfort.

warnings: happy tears, emotional dad moments, baby’s first steps and first word, reader flying solo with baby.

summary: quinn always feared he’d miss the big moments, first steps, first words simply because hockey keeps him away. but your quiet reassurance that love has its own timing comes true in the most beautiful, unexpected ways. with finn beginning to take his first steps with quinn right there, and his first word happening just before a big game, these milestones become etched in your family’s heart forever.

fia’s notes: this little piece can absolutely be enjoyed on its own, but if you’ve been following along with ‘a mini hughes on the way’ and ‘little quinny bear’, then consider this a sweet continuation of your journey as a family. think of it as the next chapter in your soft little universe, more baby cuddles, more quinn being the most precious dad ever, and more of that tender chaos that comes with parenting. but if you’re new here, don’t worry, you can totally jump in and enjoy the vibes without missing a beat!

Ever since Finn was born, Quinn had quietly feared missing everything.

He didn’t say it much out loud, but you saw it in the way he lingered at the door before every road trip, or the way he kissed Finn a dozen times like he was storing them up for the nights he wouldn’t be home. He’d whisper to Finn, ‘Wait for Dada, little bear,’ and hold his tiny hand a little longer.

So many nights you’d tell him.

“It’s okay, Quinn. He loves you. He knows you. No game, no trip will change that.”

Quinn had a game in two days, and although you knew the travel schedule never got easier, you had both made peace with the rhythm of it. Still, in the weeks leading up to this one, Quinn had been increasingly sensitive, almost wistful, every time Finn did something new.

“He’s going to start walking soon,”

He’d said one night, holding Finn’s warm little body to his chest while you leaned against his side on the couch.

“What if I’m not here for it?”

You had kissed the top of his head, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Then I’ll tell him to wait for you.”

Quinn gave a soft laugh. “He might be too curious to wait.”

“Well,” you had smiled, “maybe he’s a daddy’s boy and wants you to see it, too.”

Quinn’s heart had practically melted at that.

So on that quiet Tuesday afternoon, you weren’t expecting anything monumental. You were focused on getting dinner ready, mashing some sweet potato into a small bowl for Finn and plating the vegetables that both you and Quinn loved.

You could hear Finn babbling and giggling from the other room, and Quinn’s low, playful voice joining in.

“Beep beep,”

He said, crawling on all fours beside Finn.

“Outta the way, little car coming through!”

Finn squealed in response, smacking the floor with his palms and trying to mimic his father’s movements. The sight of the two of them crawling side-by-side on the rug had become a favorite of yours—like watching a little duckling follow its bigger counterpart.

And then… silence.

You looked up from the stove.

Stillness was never good when it came to toddlers. You wiped your hands on the towel and padded out of the kitchen, rounding the corner just in time to see Quinn sitting upright on the rug, absolutely still.

In front of him, Finn was standing.

Wobbly, sure. But standing. All on his own.

“Quinn…” you whispered, eyes wide.

Quinn didn’t even glance at you, his eyes were locked on Finn, his arms open slightly, ready to catch him.

“He’s doing it,” he murmured, voice barely audible.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, tears springing to your eyes.

Finn let out a soft grunt of determination, shifting his tiny body forward. One step.

He wobbled again. Another.

Then, with one triumphant, shaky movement, he stumbled into Quinn’s chest.

Quinn caught him like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. He clutched Finn tightly and laughed, cried, both at once.

“You waited for me,” he whispered into Finn’s hair.

“You actually waited.”

You knelt down beside them, kissing Finn’s cheek and hugging them both.

“He knew his daddy would be here,” you said softly.

Quinn kissed you over Finn’s little head, eyes glassy.

“I don’t care if I miss every single game,” he whispered.

“Nothing will ever beat this.”

But life, for all its beautiful symmetry, isn’t always that generous.

Two weeks later, Quinn had to fly to Canada for a three-game road trip, and you stayed back with Finn. The nights were a little longer, the house a little quieter without him.

And Finn… Finn had been talking.

Sort of. Half-words, mostly gibberish. But every now and then, a ‘da’ would slip out, and your heart would ache for the moment Quinn wasn’t there to hear it.

One night, as you rocked Finn to sleep, your phone buzzed. A text from Quinn.

‘Tell him Dada loves him. Tell him I’m sorry I’m not there.’

Your chest hurt a little.

That’s when the idea came to you.

You booked a flight.

You had flown in early and managed to get security clearance to enter the lower levels thanks to some very helpful staff who melted the second they saw Finn.

You kept him bundled in your arms as people waved hello. He clung to you, his tiny hands fisted into your hoodie, shy and sleepy from the travel. He tucked his face into your neck and refused to lift his head even as voices cooed his name.

“He’s just like his dad,” you laughed.

“All quiet eyes and tucked-in lips.”

About 30 minutes later, the Canucks took to the ice for their warm-up. You stood near the tunnel with Finn in your arms, bouncing him gently. Quinn hadn’t seen you yet.

Until he did.

He skated out, scanning the stands casually, then whipped his head back around so fast you were surprised his helmet didn’t fly off.

He froze in place.

Then bolted toward the glass.

Helmet still on, he pressed both palms against the barrier, eyes wide. You waved. Finn blinked at him.

You mouthed, “Take it off.”

Quinn tore off his helmet.

“Look,”

You whispered to Finn, tapping his little nose.

“There’s Dada.”

Finn blinked again.

And then, clear as day.

“Dada.”

Your mouth fell open.

Quinn’s did too.

You barely got the chance to react before a trainer was pulling Quinn off the ice, and you were being ushered down the hallway. He met you at the end of the tunnel, sweat still dripping down his face.

“Did he? did he really?”

“Say it again, baby,” you whispered to Finn.

Finn looked up at Quinn, then shyly smiled.

“Dada.”

Quinn dropped his gear right there on the floor, wrapping his arms around both of you. His shoulders shook as he held you tight, letting the weight of the moment crash into him.

“You brought him to me,” he whispered.

“You said not to record it,”

You murmured back, pressing your cheek to his.

“So I didn’t.”

He kissed you hard. “God, I love you.”

Next morning, you curled up in your hotel bed, Finn fast asleep between you. Quinn had stayed up late feeding him, changing him, reading stories to him in the dark. You’d woken briefly to the sound of him singing something soft and off-key, and then drifted back into sleep with your heart too full to hold.

He hadn’t missed it. He was there. He’d been there.

The one promise that mattered most to him had come true.

And in the quiet stillness of the early morning light, Quinn whispered to you as he reached over your sleeping son and stroked your hair back.

“I think he waited for me because he knew I needed this more than anything.”

You reached for his hand.

“I think he waited because he’s just like you. Gentle. Thoughtful. A little dramatic.”

Quinn chuckled, eyes still wet.

“But mostly,” you added, “he waited because he knows you’ll always come back to him.”

Quinn kissed your forehead and whispered, “Always.”

[renskaji]

a quiet place to land

ren kaji x hiragi!sister reader, wc: 3k, req? yes! find it here.

You know it’s a bad day when Ren Kaji shows up at your front door. 

It’s not like you don’t like him. You’ve known him since middle school, back when his hair was still dark and your friends warned you to stay away from that Kaji boy because his temper was unleashed and uncontrolled. You ignored them, stopped hanging around those who refused to see how hard Kaji tried to keep himself sane, and watched the changes happen in him from start to finish. 

It’s bad, because Ren Kaji is standing in front of you, and your brother won’t be home for hours.

“Toma isn’t here,” You say upon opening the door. He’s standing on your front stoop, hair a little disheveled and something that looks suspiciously like a fresh set of bruises littering the skin of his cheeks and jaw. Sure enough, one glance at his hands clenched in fists at his sides, you see the skin torn from a fight. 

It doesn’t scare you. You’ve been watching your brother get in fights since elementary school. What you are wary of is the fact that something went down, something bad enough to bring Kaji to your door, and Toma isn’t there to help fix it. 

“I’m not here for your brother.” Kaji’s voice is harsh, but that’s his normal. You twist your lips to the side, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you study him carefully. His headphones are resting around his neck and he has a lollipop sticking from his mouth, which is nothing of note. You’re more concerned about the way he’s clenching his jaw and how his gaze seems hidden, ducked to the side and refusing to meet your evaluative stare. It’s almost protected. Like he’s worried about you seeing what he’s feeling, despite the fact that he showed up at your house. 

And he’s not there for Toma.

You sigh, pushing open your front door wider and leaving him to enter on his own. He’s been over enough times to know the rules of the house, to know how to navigate himself to the living room. You’re suddenly way too conscious of the fact that you’re only wearing a random hoodie you quote unquote borrowed from Toma and athletic shorts you’ve had for far too long. 

Not that it should matter. Because under no circumstances can you entertain the idea of anything with Kaji. Nope. Absolutely not.

And it’s not like this is the first time he’s ever come over without intending to see your brother, either. There have been a handful of occasions, like the one you’re currently in, where something happened, where life got too loud, and Ren Kaji found himself on your doorstep wanting to see you. 

It’s really no wonder you fell in love with him along the way, honestly. 

“Sit,” You throw the order over your shoulder carelessly as you retreat further into the house than the living room, gesturing vaguely towards the couch as you go. Kaji follows your command without fuss, which is just another sign on the long list of red flags he’s already flown that something is wrong. Usually, he’ll grumble out a ‘don’t tell me what to do’ before complying regardless. But now he’s silent, and you’re struggling to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

The first aid kit is well stocked and kept within arms reach in your household. It takes less than a minute to collect it, but by the time you return to the living room, Kaji’s already retreated into the sanctuary of his headphones blaring rock music to drown out whatever was bothering him. 

You don’t think anything of it. You’ve known Kaji for years, and you’ve come to understand how to exist in the same space as him without overstepping. Which is why you know enough to grab your own headphones on your way back into the living room, and you busy yourself with connecting them while you settle atop the coffee table directly in front of Kaji’s position on the couch. It’s cramped, but you make it work with your knees slotted between his casually spread legs and a blush burning the tips of your ears. 

As soon as your own music starts playing, you set your phone to the side and look to your patient for the time being. He’s staring at you, but you know he’s not really seeing, so you nudge his foot with yours and stick out your hand, palm up and fingers splayed. With the music playing in both your ears, words are useless. 

Kaji knows to set his own hand in yours, because he’s been through the routine too many times, too. You’ve lost count of how many nights you patched up Toma and his gang, Kaji included. You’re pretty sure even Sako still knows the drill, and he hasn’t shown his face to you since junior high graduation. 

The alcohol wipe stings, but Kaji is already tensing his jaw so tight that he doesn’t show a visible wince. Regardless, you know it doesn’t feel good, so you make quick work of cleaning the torn skin on his knuckles. He watches you work carefully, obediently switching hands without you even needing to tell him to. 

The scratches on his face aren’t anything serious, either, so you finish disinfecting in a matter of moments and apply necessary bandages to smooth skin. He’s still watching you carefully, but you know he’s finally seeing, and the recognition that he’s coming back to himself makes you let loose the tension you had been unknowingly holding in your shoulders. 

Your mind inevitably drifts while doting on him, and you find yourself studying his face too closely for just simply looking for injuries. Especially when you’re looking at his lips more than his bruises. 

He’s still wearing his headphones when you finish packing up the first aid kit, so you know he needs more time until you can bother him about what happened. He’s not running off, which is an improvement from middle school, when he would tug his hoodie over the top of his head to block out the world. Now, he’s drowning out sound while scrolling through his phone on your couch. 

The thought makes your cheek twitch with a smile. You know better than to comment on his growth. 

Instead, you stand from your seat on the coffee table and return the first aid kit to its rightful home. When you make your way back to the living room, you choose a spot on the couch with a comfortable distance between yourself and Kaji. In place of badgering him, you pull out your own phone and begin to scroll. 

There’s no message from Toma about a big fight happening in town, which makes your face twist in silent confusion. Your brother has always been good about warning you about Bofurin’s actions in a bid to keep you away from the trouble. The lack of a text makes you glance at Kaji, trying to piece together how he could’ve gotten so injured without a noteworthy Furin fight having gone down.  

But the blond seated beside you offers no answers without you having to dig for them, so you fire off a message to Toma and shut down your phone, tucking it between your leg and the couch cushion. You twist in your seat until you’re leaning back against the arm rest, feet pulled up on the couch to give you something to wrap your arms around and rest your chin on. 

You study Kaji’s profile for as long as it takes for him to notice you’re waiting for him. Or maybe, for as long as it takes for him to work up the resolve to take off his headphones. He sets them on the coffee table, and you know that means he’s ready to talk. 

“Thanks,” He mumbles out to break the silence. You’ve never known Kaji to be an overly talkative person, so you take the opportunity he’s given you with both hands and ask the question that’s been bugging at you since he arrived. 

“So, who’d you fight this time?” You keep your voice light, non-accusatory. You’ve never loved all the fighting, but you know they’re doing it for a good cause. And you also know Kaji is too good of a guy to get in fights for no reason. 

“Dunno their names.”

Kaji shrugs, attention fixed on his abandoned headphones on the coffee table. Now you’re confused, because there’s something far worse than a regular fight wrong with him. He can handle scraps with random troublemakers on his own, without needing to see you. Something about this fight in particular is bothering him. 

“Kaji,” You try again, a bit more forcefully. He finally looks at you, but he’s just as quick to glance away. You frown, and shift further down the couch until you’re directly next to him, your sock clad feet only a few inches away from his leg. Part of you thinks you see the tips of his ears start to turn bright red, but part of you knows that would be ridiculous. “What happened?” 

There’s a telltale crack as Kaji’s jaw clenches over the lollipop he’s been savoring since before he arrived. His face is stony, completely giving away the fact that whatever did go down before he arrived at your door was bad. 

“I really don’t know their names. But they were wearing the uniforms from your school.” He explains, though it sounds like it’s taking a lot for him to get the words out. Like each one has the same feeling as poking at an unhealed bruise. Your face twists in confusion, but you stay quiet, hoping that encourages him to keep talking. “They had some stupid shit to say.” 

“About you?”

“About you.”

“Oh,” You’re not sure where to take the conversation from there. Toma has always told you that you’re too headstrong for your own good, which you never thought was a bad thing. You’re not oblivious to the fact that some of your classmates don’t like you, but you never thought that they would talk so poorly about you that Kaji would fight them. 

It makes a heavy weight settle in your chest, and you look away from Kaji with a frown anchoring the corners of your lips downwards. You wonder what they said, if the boys he’s talking about actually knew you. 

There’s a few unsavory thoughts running through your mind, but you’re abruptly dragged back to reality when Kaji nudges your shin. You know you’re still frowning when you glance at him, but it all melts away to surprise when you see what he’s offering you. 

It’s one of his lollipops. The peach kind, too, and distantly you think that he said one time that those were his favorite. It makes your throat tighten and your sinuses clog with emotion you really hadn’t expected to feel when you opened the door twenty minutes earlier. 

“Thanks,” You sigh as you take the candy. The shake to your voice is hard to ignore, but Kaji is good enough to not comment on it. You’d almost think he doesn’t notice the way your eyes are a bit shinier than usual, but the candy he’s offering is proof otherwise. “You didn’t have to do it, though.”

“Huh?” He’s turned fully towards you, now, and it’s hard not to burn up under the total weight of his attention. Most days, you’d love to revel in his focus, but now it feels too hot, too close to something you’ve never been brave enough to address. 

“You didn’t have to fight those boys just ‘cause I’m Toma’s sister,” You clarify, voice quiet and close to shattering. It’s the only reason you can think of that explains why Kaji would bother dealing with some random assholes. You busy yourself by popping the gifted lollipop in your mouth, savoring the taste of peach on your tongue, folding the wrapper into a neat triangle, then half it again. 

Under different circumstances, it would be almost amusing to watch him process what you’re saying. It’s almost like his brain stutters, then stalls, before needing to reboot and start over. You watch as flashes of confusion shine in his eyes, then disbelief, before finally settling on annoyance. 

“You stupid or something?” He asks, and you snap out of your self-pitying to glare at him, mouth already open to retort with your own insult by the time he barrels on. “I didn’t do it ‘cause of your brother. I did it because I like you, a lot, and those assholes don’t get to talk about you like that.”

You’re still a little pissed off at the stupid comment, so it takes you longer than it typically would to realize he just confessed to having feelings for you. 

In the stretch of silence you foolishly let build after his admission, Kaji groans and reaches for his headphones to hide from the world again. His blush is crawling up his neck, and all you can think about is how adorable you find it as you hand shoots out to grab his sleeve. 

His focus snapes to you the moment your touch finds his sleeve. He’s frozen, half leaning forward to grab his headphones off the coffee table. You’re convinced that one wrong move will send him flying out the front door and avoiding you forever. 

“You’re really shit at this kind of stuff.” You find yourself saying before you can think about it. It falls under the category of a wrong move that will send him flying out the front door, but you’re holding the sleeve of his sweatshirt so tightly he can’t go anywhere without dragging you with him. 

“Just forget it.” He grumbles, a glare he doesn’t mean fixed on something over your shoulder. You can’t help the way your grin finally breaks free, but he misses it by avoiding your gaze. 

“Now you’re the one being stupid.” You tease. “The guy I like just beat up bullies I didn't know I had and confessed his feelings for me. I’m not just going to forget it.” 

You’re leaning closer towards him now, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want him to kiss you. The lollipop is plucked from your mouth, held by the stick in your hand that isn’t currently bunched in the fabric of his sweatshirt. You think you’re inching closer towards your goal when you spot his gaze tracking the way your tongue darts out to wet your peach flavored lips. 

“Your brother—” He starts, but you’re quick to interrupt. 

“Now it’s finally about Toma.” You tease with a playful roll of your eyes. “My brother loves you. And he trusts you, too. He’s not going to be bothered by us.” 

Kaji’s ears burn impossibly brighter at the mention of an us, which makes you grin and lean even further into his space. This is so not the direction you thought your afternoon would go, but you’ll take it. 

He’s quiet for a moment longer, so you decide to give him another nudge, another tease that will hopefully push him over the edge towards action. 

“If you really want, we can call Toma and ask—”

You’re interrupted by his hand suddenly cradling your jaw, angling your face just right in the seconds before his lips crash against yours. It’s a little sloppy, a little inexperienced, but it makes your head feel dizzy all the same. You press towards him the moment you get your bearings, desperate to show him how much you care for him. 

It’s nearly embarrassing how breathless you are after the kiss ends. But Kaji’s panting too, so you know you’ll be alright. Your smile is a little dazed, but there’s no way for you to miss the determined look in his eyes. 

“I owe your brother so much, but it’s never about him for me. It’s always you.” There’s a weight to his confession that you’re not quite sure how to unpack. Kaji has idolized Toma for years. But to think that as deep as that devotion goes, Kaji’s commitment to you goes deeper—

You’re not sure what else to do but kiss him again. 

It’s shorter than the first kiss, but no less meaningful. You see the way he’s blushing under your touch, your attention, and you wonder how you went so long without drawing that reaction from him. He’s too adorable, and it makes you decide that you’ll do whatever it takes to keep him blushing, always. You’re smiling, and it’ll take a lot to keep you from doing so.

“We still have to tell my brother, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

+ bonus

“Have you heard from Kaji lately? Word is he got into a brawl in town and no one’s seen him since.”

Toma Hiragi groans at his vice captain, reaching into his jacket for both his phone and stomach medicine. It’s one thing for Kaji to get into a fight while on patrol, but it’s another to disappear after. 

He pops a gaskun-10 pill into his mouth while opening his phone. There’s no texts from his underclassman, but he has one from you, his younger sister. 

Kaji showed up at the house. I patched him up but he seems off. I’ll talk to him and figure it out. Oh, and get me that bread Ume was talking about before you come home. 

Toma huffs at your text before turning off his phone and shoving it back in his pocket. He doesn’t actually remember what bread Umemiya recommended to you, so he’ll have to ask and endure a ten minute lecture on bean sprouts. 

But you’re cleaning up Kaji for him, so it’s the least he can do. 

“Kaji’s fine.” Toma explains to the small crowd of Bofurin that had gathered while waiting to hear about their teammate’s whereabouts. “He’s with my sister. She’s taking care of him.”

And maybe you’ll put him out of his misery and finally admit you’re in love with each other.

[mclager]

Am I your little secret? | Toto Wolff x reader

Warning: Use of the word daddy (in the song), age gap (reader is 24), cheating, oral (m receiving), semi-public (?), name calling (that counts as degradation?), a picture being taken, dry humping, lil bit of praise

I'm listening too much Lana del Rey I apologise

One thing about being best friends with a F1 driver is that he will make you go to every race he can, even if you don't really care about it. Being around Kimi all the time means I'm around Toto Wolff all the time, and that's why I kept saying yes to Kimi's invites.

He always received me in mercedes with a kind smile, at the beginning without saying anything, but then I was pretending I didn't understand F1, so he started to explain it to me as I look confused for the hundred time, as he said what is a DRS and why they used it, every race he explained something different, and I nodded and asked questions to make him look smarter, every time a little more close till our arms were touching and I couldn't move closer. Then my clothes got shorter and I was super interested about the strategy, and god knows I never understood a single word about it, but at the end of the day the strategy is win. The days Susie Wolff was around Toto didn't even looked at my direction, so this days I was glued to Kimi, trying to look less suspicious, but what threat can a girl so young represent to her, right?

The garage is very noisy and that would constantly give me a migraine and every time it did Toto would let me stay in his office, since it was quieter and darker. He would guide me there and make sure I had everything I needed and that I was ok. It never happened when Susie was there, so I decided to test, how far he would go with his wife right by his side? I walked up to him as always, did my drama, but this time he asked one of the social media girls to walk me there and get me all I needed. I couldn't be mad, it made perfect sense, didn't?

By the end of it, I was walking in and out of Toto's office like it was mine, he was more in the garage anyways. Today Toto was mad at something, and Kimi crashing in FP1 didn't make him any happier. Kimi was worried about the car, and I didn't want to make Toto angrier, so I just went to his office pass the time. I put some music and started to dance to it, when Lana started to play I started to sing too, it wasn't anything loud, because I didn't want to make anyone pissed at me.

"You taste like the fourth of July, Malt liquor on your breath, my, my, I love you but I don’t know why..." My eyes were closed, my hands in my hair. "You can be the boss, daddy, you can be the boss..."

I couple verses passed by as I finally opened my eyes.

"I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it, I tried to be strong but I lost it..." This where the last lyrics I sang before seeing Toto leaning against the door frame, watching me. "Toto?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing important, I'm just passing time till FP2." He nodded and entered in the room, and closed the door behind him. "Do you need me to get out?"

"No, you can stay." He walked to his table and sat down. "You can continue."

"I don't want to bother you, sir."

"Don't worry about that, just pretend I'm not here." I nodded and pressed to change the song.

"My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola..." Start to sound from my phone, I froze. "My eyes are wide like cherry pies..." My cheeks burning red. "I got sweet taste for men who are older..." For a second my not just my brain stopped working, but my phone also decided to freeze just to complete my sentence. "It's always been so, it's no surprise..." I paused the song as quick as possible, which wasn't quick enough. I had my back turned to Toto, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why you stopped it?" He asked and got up.

"I... Just... Is not a appropriate song I'm afraid."

"Now you care? After making my wife more than mad, you care about inappropriate?" He got up.

"I did that? How?"

"How? Well, maybe when you get so close you almost sit on my lap, or when you get all needy and ask to go to my office?" He step to the front of the table.

He noticed?

"I..." He shook his head.

"No, don't need to try to explain, I know what you're trying to do." He got closer to me, and at this angle, his so fucking tall. "See, I'm not stupid." His fingers brushed a couple strands of hair out of my face and grabbed my chin. "You want me so bad, it's pathetic."

"Toto..."

"No, you've talked enough, now it's my turn. Suzie is fucking mad, she's giving me the cold shoulder, so now you're going to make it worth my marital nightmare." Toto let's go of my chin and glances at the door before looking at me again. "Get down on your knees."

I didn't think, I didn't even breathe before doing what he told me. He smirked looking at me.

"Didn't know you were the slut type." He undone his belt, then he unbuttoned his pants, pushing it down just enough to take his knob out of his pants. What surprised me was the fact that he was already half hard. "You know what to do, we don't have much time, do we?"

Instinctively one of my hands grabbed his shaft, pumping it up and down a couple times before licking his tip. He looked down at me as if he had better places to be, he put my hair in a makeshift ponytail and forced my face against him, until I opened my mouth and took him inside, making me choke on his length.

"You look pretty like this." His free hand reached to his back pocket and pick his phone. "You wouldn't mind if I took a picture right?" The flash blinded me for a second, before I could process what he just said. "If I didn't have a wife this would be my wallpaper, to show everyone the pretty whore I have. I think Kimi would like to see this." He pushed my head away just enough for me to take a breath, but the air in my lungs was knocked out when he trusted into my mouth, fucking it like he was planning it for months. "He has a thing for you, don't you think? The way he looks at your ass when you're using this little skirts that barely covers it."

He pushed one of his feet between my legs making me open them. His feet was pressing against my core making me whine around him, my hips started to move, trying it's best to grind against anything I could to get any relief I could.

"Or maybe he's familiar with it, you're a slut after all aren't you?" His grip tightened on my hair, a smirk on his face while he was fucking mine. My moans were muffled, but Toto knew by how hard I was grinding against his shoe that I desperately needed to cum. He didn't say anything, but he pressed harder against my core, and moaned, it was low, but I was proud of taking any sound of him.

I was getting close, and he knew it.

"Come on, can you be good for once and come already?" He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out like a growl, a growl filled with desire. I wished I could have hold it longer, but I came on spot, moaning like the slut I was.

"I'm going to..." He almost whispered, the grip he had on my hair loosened, almost as a invite to get out and let him cum out of my mouth, but I couldn't let him. I stayed in place till I felt him spurting inside my mouth. He rides out his high before exiting my mouth, as he did I swallowed every drop that he left behind.

He pulled me up to my feet, cleaned the drool out of my face with the sleeves of his sweater, fixed my hair, his eyes everywhere but on mine. He fixed his pants, took a deep breath and just then his eyes met mine.

"Are you ok?" I nodded.

"I am." He caressed my face before lean forward and kiss me, his hands comfortably on my hips, and mine on his biceps.

He broke the kiss, parting just enough to speak.

"You were amazing."

"Thank you." My brain was working for longer sentences, this was all I wanted, it's like I'm floating around in a dream.

"I would like if you wanted to go to my hotel room tonight, is that something you would want to do?" I nodded and he smiled. "Great." He gave me another kiss before fully backed off. "You can rest here, I'll make sure no one bothers you, ok?"

"Ok." He walked towards the door, but before he could opened I called him. "Toto?"

"Yes?" He turned to look at me.

"What about your wife?"

"She doesn't need to know for now. Rest, you have a long night coming." He exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This is definitely a secret to keep.

[salmonballsss]

The Violet Hour

(Chapter 11)

You are a young, awkward historian obsessed with the Salem witch trials. One name repeats through obscure documents: Agatha Harkness. She's not supposed to exist anymore. But when you find a book authored in her name and follow the trail to a remote New England town, you're met with a woman who looks nothing like she belongs in your century—and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you…

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Blood, Drinking.

You pushed yourself off the couch and followed after her, finding Agatha already halfway through pulling things out for dinner. A loaf of bread thudded onto the counter, a block of cheese, a can of tomato soup spinning once before she caught it lazily with one hand.

You hovered awkwardly in the doorway for a second. Watching her. It wasn’t fair, the way she made even rummaging through a pantry look good. “What?” she said without looking up. “Afraid you’ll catch something if you step into the kitchen?"

You scoffed and crossed your arms. "Just wondering when you became so domestic. Should I be expecting a pie next?"

Agatha finally glanced over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re lucky you’re injured," she said dryly, "or I’d make you churn the butter by hand."

You snorted and stepped into the kitchen fully, leaning your hip against the counter. "Churn the butter? What are you, ninety?"

Agatha gave a small, mock gasp and clutched the can of soup to her chest dramatically. "You wound me," she said, flashing you a look over the rim of her glasses. The worst part was—she almost pulled it off. She almost made you feel bad.

Almost.

You tilted your head, giving her your best unimpressed stare. "Oh, please. You’re fine. Besides..." you added, grinning a little, "if you can survive my ‘stupid old ghost towns and witch obsession,’ I think you can survive a little sass."

Agatha quirked an eyebrow at you, setting the can down with a soft thunk . "You know," she said, voice lilting just enough to be dangerous, "you were smiling pretty hard when you were talking to Billy."

You froze for half a second. She noticed. Of course she noticed.

"And yet," Agatha continued, casually pulling a knife from the drawer and starting to slice the bread, "you never smile like that for me."

You blinked. Actually blinked. Did she just—? "You’re pouting," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Agatha’s slicing slowed for a fraction of a second. She glanced sideways at you, her mouth pressed into a line that might, maybe, almost have been a tiny little pout.

"I am not pouting," she said flatly.

You grinned, chest warming in a way that had nothing to do with the fact the stove was now on. "You totally are. Don’t worry. It's cute."

Agatha scoffed, tossing a slice of bread onto the pan with a little more force than necessary. "Cute," she muttered. "If I’d known surviving a hellbeast just meant getting mocked in my own house, I would’ve left you to bleed out."

You just shrugged, the sass coming easier now than it ever had before. "Well," you said, lifting a brow, "maybe if you were actually funny, I’d smile more."

Agatha set the knife down slowly, then turned to face you fully, leaning back against the counter with her arms folded. She gave you a long, slow once over—head to toe—like she was deciding exactly how much she was going to make you pay for that.

You stared right back, refusing to be the first one to break.

For a second, you were sure she was about to launch some scathing, perfectly delivered comeback that would make you regret ever opening your mouth.

Instead Her lips twitched. And she smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a grin.

A smile. 

Soft. Real.

And way, way worse. Your stomach flipped traitorously. "You’re getting cocky," Agatha said, pushing herself off the counter and turning back to the stove.

You shrugged again, heart hammering a little too hard. "Someone’s gotta keep you humble."

Agatha chuckled low under her breath, flipping the sandwich expertly in the pan. "Careful, sweetheart," she said. "You keep talking like that, I might actually start to like you."

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was a strangled sort of ha, which only made her laugh harder.

You turned your attention to the soup simmering quietly on the stove, trying very hard not to combust on the spot.

Maybe you were injured. Maybe you had black veins crawling across your side. Maybe you were stuck in a house with a woman who made your stomach do backflips with a single look. 

But at least, for tonight, it felt like you might survive it. Maybe. If you were lucky.

You tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest, instead focusing on the pot of soup that had been bubbling away for far too long. You couldn’t let her get under your skin—not now, not when she was standing there looking like she was plotting some devilish move, a smirk playing on her lips as she turned the sandwich once more.

"What's the matter?" Agatha’s voice cut through the air again, a teasing lilt that made you tense up. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you just enjoying the view?" She gave you a sidelong glance, her eyes twinkling with the mischievous glint that had become all too familiar.

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, folding your arms across your chest as you leaned against the counter. "You really think you’re that charming, huh?"

Agatha’s eyebrow arched in an exaggerated fashion, her gaze sweeping over you. "I don't think it, darling. I know it."

You rolled your eyes, playing it off like it didn’t affect you. "Please. The last time I checked, you were just making sandwiches."

“Making sandwiches?” Agatha's voice went all offended as she flipped the sandwich once again, the crispy edges beginning to darken to perfection. "Excuse me, but I do believe this is more than a sandwich. This is a masterpiece."

You raised an eyebrow. "A masterpiece? It’s bread and some cheese."

She smirked, spinning around to face you fully now, her hands resting on the edge of the counter. "Don’t knock my culinary skills."

"Oh, I’m sure it’s delicious, " you teased, the corner of your lips twitching upward. "But are you sure you’re the one who’s cooking it? I’m starting to think you summoned a demon for this meal. Maybe that’s why it’s so… perfect ."

Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile never left her face. "You really are something else, aren’t you?" Her voice was low now, like she was both amused and intrigued. "Maybe you should be careful. I don’t like it when people test my patience."

You leaned in, lowering your voice to match hers, though there was a playful spark in your eye. "What are you going to do? Cast a spell on me?"

"Is that a challenge?" Agatha's lips curled in that dangerous little smirk, the one that made your stomach flip every time she did it.

You held her gaze for a beat longer than you intended, the words on your tongue slipping out before you could stop them. "Maybe I’d like to see what kind of spell you’d cast."

Her eyes darkened, just the slightest flicker of something dangerous dancing behind them. For a second, the tension between the two of you thickened, as if the air was electric with unsaid words. But then, in a blink, it was gone. Agatha broke the stare with a chuckle, turning back to the stove.

"Perhaps another time," she said, not missing a beat. "Now, go sit down. You’re distracting me."

You fought the urge to grin like an idiot, instead choosing to play it cool, even if every nerve in your body was buzzing. "Fine," you muttered, crossing the kitchen to the dining room table. It was hard to ignore how her gaze followed you for a fraction of a second, but you did your best.

You took a seat, eyes flicking between Agatha and the food, your thoughts still swirling with that last moment of tension.

Agatha joined you moments later, placing the perfectly grilled sandwiches on the table along with a steaming bowl of soup. The scent hit your senses like a wall—earthy, warm, and, for some reason, comforting. She sat across from you with a satisfied look on her face as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Go ahead," she said, her tone nonchalant. "You were so eager to test my culinary prowess. It’s only fair you get to taste it first."

You didn’t need to be told twice. The smell was too enticing, and your stomach growled as you picked up your sandwich, taking a cautious bite.

The crunch was perfect. The cheese—melty and sharp. The bread—golden and crispy. You could feel your eyes close in pleasure at the first taste, and you couldn’t stop the hum of approval that slipped from your lips.

"Okay," you admitted, grinning despite yourself. "I’ll give it to you. This is actually really good."

Agatha leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest, her smug expression returning. "I told you." Her gaze dropped to your half finished sandwich as you continued eating, and her voice dropped, becoming teasing once more. "Now, do I have to convince you to keep complimenting me, or is that the last one you’re getting for tonight?"

You swallowed your bite, raising your eyebrows. "I’m not that easy."

"Oh, I know," she replied with a wink, her tone low and knowing. "That’s what makes it all the more fun."

The banter between you both continued, light and easy, as the meal stretched on. Agatha had a way of drawing you in, her dry wit and sharp tongue making it hard to tell where playful teasing ended and something deeper, more dangerous, began. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward; it was charged, like the kind of tension you could cut with a knife if you wanted to. But neither of you said anything more about it. Instead, the evening drifted on, filled with laughter and that soft, familiar spark of something unspoken.

And for once, it felt normal. A brief escape from the whirlwind of supernatural chaos that seemed to always follow you around lately. Just two people—sharing a meal, teasing each other over sandwiches and soup, sitting side by side in a comfortable rhythm that made you forget about everything else.

Well, almost everything. The back of your mind still couldn't shake the feeling that you were being played, that something was happening beneath the surface that you couldn't fully understand. And yet, despite it all, you couldn't stop the small part of you that wanted to stay.

That wanted to see just how far Agatha would take this.

"Don’t look at me like that," Agatha said suddenly, her voice soft but sharp all the same, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You’re looking at me like you’re trying to figure me out."

You blinked, feigning innocence. "I’m not looking at you like anything."

Her gaze didn’t falter. "Oh, but you are. Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll figure me out in time."

There it was again—the mystery, the teasing, the promise of something more.

And just like that, the playful bickering resumed, with Agatha throwing another small comment in your direction, and you tossing it right back.

The evening would end. But for now, this moment—this quiet, complicated, messy, delicious moment—was enough to let you forget that you were tangled in a web you couldn’t yet see the edges of.

---

Dinner had passed in a blur of soft clinking, low murmured insults, and the occasional dramatic sigh from you whenever Agatha corrected how you cut your grilled cheese. It had been easy. Too easy. Almost normal. Agatha had smirked through half the meal, rolled her eyes at you the other half. You’d bickered lightly. She’d teased you about your terrible posture at the table. You’d called her a tyrant for insisting you eat the crusts.

And somehow… the world outside didn’t seem to matter for a little while.

But that was hours ago.

The clock on the guest room nightstand blinked 12:13 AM in soft, unbothered red light. You rolled over under the covers, staring at the dark ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come. Your side ached dully, but it wasn’t just that.

It was the feeling. The buzzing. The wrongness under your skin. Something was off, you could feel it like an electric charge crawling up your spine. The air in the room seemed too thick, as if it were pressing in on you from all sides. The quiet, which you once found comforting, now felt suffocating. There was a tightness in your chest, and the shadows in the room seemed darker, denser, almost as if they were breathing.

You closed your eyes tighter, forcing your breathing to even out. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was the strain of the last few days catching up to you. But that was when you heard it.

A tap.

Sharp. Deliberate. A sound that sliced through the suffocating quiet.

You froze, heart thudding painfully against your ribs. You listened, straining to hear anything else, but there was nothing.

Another tap.

The sound was louder now. Thicker. It almost felt like it was coming from inside the walls.

And then, there was a third tap. No, a scrape .

Your breath caught in your throat. No. No, no—you were imagining it. You were overtired. Stressed. It was nothing. You pressed your palm flat against your chest, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.

But then— A whisper. Not outside. Inside. 

It was low, crawling under the door, slipping around the edges of the walls like some dark fog. A coldness swept over you, the kind of cold that felt like it was burrowing deep into your bones.

Your heart pounded in your chest. The feeling of being watched. The sensation of eyes on you, unseen.

You bolted upright, gasping for air, the breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The tapping grew louder, faster. Scraping now. Something— dragging ��across the glass. It wasn’t the wind. It wasn’t an animal. It was something else. Something deliberate.

You twisted in bed, eyes wide, scanning the window in the dark. And then your blood ran cold.

The vines were There. Thick, dark tendrils slowly crawled up the outside of the house, their shapes twisted and unnatural against the pale moonlight. They were visible, creeping up the sides of the house with a sinister deliberation, like they were searching for something—or someone.

No. Not the vines. Not now.

You clutched your side, feeling the black veins pulse beneath your skin, each beat like an echo of something darker, older. A tremor ran through you. The ache was getting worse, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts, but it was the vines—the whisper—that tore your focus away.

They twitched, sliding closer to the window. You could almost hear them, feel their scraping against the glass, inching toward you with a low, unnatural hiss.

Get out of here, you thought, but you couldn’t move.

Fuck this.

You couldn’t stay in this room. Not with those things outside, not with that whisper slithering around the walls.

You forced yourself to stand, your side burning with each movement. You stumbled, unsteady on your feet, and ripped open the door, slamming it behind you with more force than you intended. The hallway stretched out before you, dark and quiet as always.

You half ran, half limped across the creaky floorboards, desperate to find something, someone . You reached Agatha’s door, a wave of dread crashing over you. Your knuckles trembled as you raised your hand to knock. But then you paused.

The door was slightly ajar.

A cold shiver ran up your spine.

You nudged it open with your fingertips, stepping into the room slowly, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

Empty.

The bed was neatly made, untouched since the afternoon. No sign of her. No sign of anything. Just the emptiness of the room, the oppressive quiet.

Panic clenched around your chest, a tightness that made it hard to breathe. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any hint of Agatha, anything that could explain this. But there was nothing.

And then, from somewhere deeper in the house, you heard it. The scraping sound again. Faint but distinct. Coming from the guest room. The vines.

The whispering.

Something was in the house. You could feel it, the malevolent presence of it. Your heart hammered against your ribs as your breathing quickened.

You spun around, your feet carrying you down the hall with a frantic desperation, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. Your thoughts spun in a panic as you reached the guest room door again. The whisper was louder now, rising from behind the door. It sounded like a voice— no, multiple voices , murmuring in a language you couldn’t understand.

You slowly, carefully, pushed the door open, every muscle in your body screaming at you to turn back. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not with that scraping sound dragging against your nerves.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the sliver of moon outside. And that’s when you saw it.

The vines, slick and black, crawled with deliberate malice across the walls. They twisted like living things, slow but certain in their approach, wrapping themselves around the furniture, the bedposts, the corners of the room. They weren’t just creeping —they were searching . As if they were alive and they knew exactly what they were looking for.

And the blood.

It wasn’t just leaking anymore. It was pouring .

The slow, rhythmic drip-drip-drip from the ceiling had become a cacophony, the drops thick and slow like a countdown to something awful. The blood pooled beneath you, dark and viscous, swallowing the floor, turning the wood into something unrecognizable.

You could feel it now. The air was alive with tension . You could feel something creeping up your spine, a presence—no, a force —gathering in the room. You weren’t alone. You never had been.

The whispers had stopped for a moment, but their presence lingered like a terrible weight in the room. You could hear them even though they were silent now. You could feel them. A soft brush against your mind, slithering, twisting into your thoughts, pulling at the edges of your sanity.

Come closer… 

The voice called your name, but it wasn’t just one voice anymore. It was hundreds—thousands—murmuring, a choir of darkness whispering through your skin. Their breath was like ice against your ear. You could feel them— feel them —everywhere, crawling up the walls, pressing in on you.

It wasn’t just the vines. It was something in the house. Something inside you. The house knew you. And it was calling you.

A sudden, sharp screeching sound made you flinch—like the sound of nails dragged across glass, jagged and grating. You twisted around, your heart leaping into your throat.

Outside, through the window, you saw it.

A figure.

A shadow, barely visible at the edge of your vision, but it was there . You could see the outline—tall, thin, blacker than the night, standing motionless, staring through the glass at you. You couldn’t make out any details, but you felt its gaze. Like it was watching you.

It was a figure you knew, but it couldn’t be. It was just a shadow, a flickering silhouette against the dark wilderness outside. It wasn’t human.

It wasn’t human. 

The wilderness beyond the window seemed to come alive, pulsing with a life of its own, reaching toward the house. The trees in the distance moved , their twisted limbs stretching, almost pointing , as if the earth itself was calling to the figure. The trees whispered with voices—low, guttural murmurs—and the wind carried their words like a song sung backward.

Your breath caught in your throat. The forest —it wasn’t just the house. It was the land. It was all part of it. The figure outside wasn’t just some person. It was a part of this place, something ancient, something that had always been here.

The trees groaned under the weight of something far darker than any storm. The shadows in the woods flickered and swayed like they were alive, their movements too quick, too unnatural. The whispering grew louder, more insistent.

Come closer… 

You couldn’t take it anymore. The blood on the floor, the vines wrapping tighter, the black figure outside. Your heart raced, pounding so hard in your chest you thought it would crack your ribs. You turned toward the door, hands trembling as you reached for the handle, but the vines moved faster now— too fast —wrapping around the doorframe, pulling it shut with a force you couldn’t hope to fight.

The door slammed shut in your face, sending a shock through your body that rattled your bones.

No.

No! 

Your heart pounded, panic surging through you. You pushed at the door, your hands slick with cold sweat, but it wouldn’t budge. The vines hissed, their tendrils slithering across the wood like snakes, twisting and gnashing. And then, from behind you, the blood— it was moving —as though the room was alive. The dark liquid seemed to swirl, pulling toward the center, forming shapes. Distorted, twitching shapes.

And then, just as you thought you might drown in it, the shape of a hand emerged from the blood. Thin, skeletal fingers reaching toward you.

The whispering came again, and this time it wasn’t soft.

It was loud , suffocating, tearing through your mind. They were everywhere now , inside you, filling your ears, crawling through your skin, making you feel them in your very bones.

Come closer. Join us. 

The shadows outside the window grew darker, their shapes stretching toward you, thick and hungry, clawing at the glass, trying to get inside. The figure in the wilderness moved, a sharp motion like a predator.

It’s waiting for you. 

It wasn’t just a voice now. The earth was speaking, too. The trees outside, the floor beneath your feet—they were all alive , murmuring in a language you didn’t understand, pulling at the threads of your sanity, urging you to listen.

The blood was growing, spilling over the sides of the bed now, rushing across the floor in a thick, pulsing wave. You stumbled backward, slipping on the slick surface, barely catching yourself before you hit the wall. The whispers pressed in on you, suffocating, and the darkness in the room deepened.

A scream built in your throat, but it wouldn’t come. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Your eyes were wide, locked on the bloody shape moving toward you on the floor.

And then—the door behind you creaked. Slowly, agonizingly slow, as though it had been waiting for you to turn.

No… Your brain screamed at you to move, to run, but you couldn’t.

It was already too late.

The shadow outside the window— it moved toward you .

You felt a sudden chill, the kind that went all the way down to your soul. The thing outside wasn’t waiting anymore. It was coming. It was going to get you .

They had you.

The blood seemed to pulse, the shadows seemed to twist with a life of their own, and every inch of you screamed to flee. Agatha . You had to get to her. She was the only thing between you and this madness, the only thing that might save you from whatever was happening in this house.

Your legs trembled, barely able to support you, but you didn’t care. You slammed your hands against the door, pushing against the vines that had wrapped around it, pulling them back with more force than you thought you could muster. They hissed and screeched like living things, fighting against your grip. Your fingers burned with cold, the feeling of them crawling under your skin, but you didn’t stop. You yanked, pulled, slammed the door until the vines snapped under your strength.

You burst into the hallway, gasping for air, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you staggered down the hall. The walls felt like they were closing in, the floor beneath your feet like it was shifting, trying to pull you into the darkness below. The temperature in the house had dropped, an icy chill seeping into your bones. You could almost feel the breath of something cold on the back of your neck, but you didn’t dare look behind you.

You couldn’t.

Agatha’s voice echoed in your mind. Get to Agatha . It was the only thing that mattered now.

The stairs were a blur beneath you as you stumbled and sprinted down them, barely avoiding tripping over the wooden steps. Every corner of the house seemed to be alive now, groaning, whispering—like the house itself was waiting, watching, hunting you.

You hit the bottom of the stairs, breathing in sharp gasps, your eyes darting around the darkened living room. The fire that had been burning earlier was now reduced to dying embers, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally. Every shadow seemed to stretch too long. Every corner of the house seemed darker than it should be. You rounded the corner into the living room— And stumbled to a halt.

There, sprawled casually across the green couch, laptop balanced on her knees, was Agatha. She had one hand curled lazily around a glass of wine, her glasses sliding slightly down her nose as she scrolled through something on the screen. She looked up at you slowly. Raised an eyebrow.

"Midnight jog?" she asked dryly.

You stood there, panting, trembling, still half expecting something monstrous to come tearing through the windows after you. Agatha clicked her laptop shut and set it aside, studying you more closely now.

Your shaking hands. Your wild eyes. Your heaving chest.

Her amusement slipped a little. Not gone. But... muted. "Hey," she said, voice softer now. She set the wine glass down carefully on the coffee table. "Come here."

You hesitated.

Another whisper curled through your mind. Something tugging at your ribs, pulling wrong. You stumbled forward anyway, unable to stop yourself.

Agatha caught your wrist gently when you got close enough, tugging you down onto the couch beside her. You collapsed more than sat. "Talk," she ordered.

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out except a broken breath. Agatha shifted closer, her hands surprisingly warm against your wrist and the small of your back, grounding you.

You clenched your fists. "The window," you rasped finally. "There was... tapping. And vines. And whispers."

Agatha’s face darkened immediately. She didn’t scoff this time. Didn’t mock. "Where?" she asked, already standing. You pointed vaguely upstairs, the muscles in your arm trembling.

"Guest room window," you whispered.

Agatha didn’t hesitate. She moved across the room in two strides, grabbed something off the mantle—something small and silver—and tucked it into her sleeve.

You didn’t ask. You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

"Stay here," she said, her voice edged with something unfamiliar. Not anger. Not fear.

Resolve. 

You stayed rooted to the couch as she disappeared up the stairs, your heart pounding painfully. You heard her footsteps. The creak of the guest room door. Silence.

And then—

A low, thudding noise against the walls. Something heavy dragging. You flinched back instinctively, curling tighter into yourself. Another thud.

Then a hiss—like steam escaping, only wetter. Thicker.

Agatha's voice, low and sharp, barking something you couldn't understand. The air vibrated. The floor under your feet hummed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

The memory of the vines snaking up the window, the feeling of the black veins in your side pulsing, the voice whispering your name in a dozen wrong languages at once—

It all slammed into you. You pressed your hands over your ears, trying to block it out.

You didn't know how long you stayed there. Minutes? Hours? The clock on the wall ticked steadily, oblivious to your spiraling panic.

When you finally heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, you nearly cried in relief. Agatha appeared, looking slightly... rumpled.

Her sleeves were rolled up now. Her hair was a little messier. And there was a faint streak of something��dust? ash?—on her forearm. She crossed the room and crouched in front of you. "You okay?" she asked, and for once, there was no sarcasm. No teasing. Just concern.

You nodded shakily, though you didn’t feel okay at all. Agatha studied you for a moment longer, then sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. "It wasn’t real," she said finally. "The vines. The whispers. Whatever you saw."

You blinked at her, confused. "What?"

 Agatha tapped your side lightly—right over where the black veins were etched under your skin. "It’s your wound," she said. "It’s... leaking. For lack of a better word." You stared at her blankly. Agatha pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly trying to choose her words carefully.

"The creature you summoned," she said slowly, "its mark is still inside you. It left of piece of itself in you… and  the piece that's left is feeding you fear. Making you see things."

Your stomach twisted painfully. "So... I'm going crazy?"

Agatha gave a small, tired laugh. "No, sweetheart," she said. "You’re just... haunted."

Haunted. 

Like that was somehow supposed to be better. You let your head drop into your hands, breathing hard.

Agatha sat beside you again, close enough that her thigh brushed yours, her body warm and steady against your side. "You’re not alone," she said quietly. You didn’t know if she meant here, in the house—or in the fight still ahead. Maybe both.

You let yourself lean into her just a little. Just enough to feel the solidness of her against you. For tonight, at least, you could pretend that was enough. You stayed curled against the arm of the couch for a while, breathing slowly, letting the tremor in your chest settle.

Agatha didn’t hover, which somehow made it easier. She stayed seated at the other end, her wine glass dangling between two fingers, half-watching you, half-watching the windows. The storm outside—or whatever you wanted to call it—had calmed. No vines. No tapping. Just a chilly, restless night.

After a minute, you pushed yourself upright, heart still pounding but not wild anymore, and crossed to the nearest window. You stood there for a second, arms crossed, staring out into the garden.

Nothing but darkness and the faint outline of trees. "You expecting to see something?" Agatha’s voice was dry behind you, but there was a warmth to it too. Something lighter.

You shrugged. "Just making sure the house isn’t about to get... eaten, or something." You heard the faint clink of glass as she tipped her wine to her lips again. "You’re very dramatic, you know that?"

You huffed a little, giving the garden one last suspicious glance before turning back to her. "Forgive me for not being totally chill after hallucinating demon vines."

Agatha made a tsk sound under her breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. You flopped back onto the couch, breathing out hard. She sipped from her glass again, lazy, slow, like she had all the time in the world.

You watched her for a moment. Then—without thinking—you blurted "Can I have some?"

Agatha arched a brow, swirling the wine in her glass. "I don’t think mixing whatever black plague you’ve got with alcohol is a doctor approved plan," she said dryly.

You rolled your eyes. "I’m fine. It's one glass."

She kept swirling the wine. The corners of her mouth curved upward. "And," she added, "are you even old enough, pet?"

You sputtered, sitting up straighter. "I’m twenty four!" Agatha laughed— actually laughed—a low, throaty sound that warmed your skin faster than the fire in the hearth.

"Alright, alright," she said, pushing herself off the couch. She moved a little slower than usual, which was the first real sign that the wine was hitting her harder than she was letting on.

You watched her go to the kitchen, grab another glass—something smaller, less fancy—and pour you a careful half glass of wine. She brought it back and handed it to you with a little flourish.

"There. One scandalous drink," she said. "Try not to die on my couch." You stuck your tongue out at her and took a sip. It was better than you expected—warm and rich, the taste blooming across your tongue. Agatha reclaimed her spot next to you, sitting sideways on the couch, one leg bent up, glass cradled loosely in her hand.

The room felt softer now. Dimmer. Like the night had shrunk down to just the two of you. You took another sip, feeling the tension in your chest ease a little more.

"So," you said, trying for casual and probably failing miserably, "what do you do all day? Besides feed injured historians and critique their posture?"

Agatha tilted her head, considering. "Would you believe me if I said gardening?"

You blinked. "...Honestly? No."

Agatha laughed again, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "Smart girl," she murmured. "Gardening’s more of a side hobby."

You sipped your wine, emboldened by the warmth spreading through your veins. "Okay, then. What’s your main hobby? Mysterious woman of Hollow Wood?"

Agatha smiled slowly, lazily, like she was weighing how much she wanted to say. "I collect things," she said finally. You raised an eyebrow. "Books?" you guessed, thinking of the study.

She nodded, taking another long drink. "And artifacts," she added. "Oddities. Stories people forget about."

You tilted your head. "That’s... actually kind of cool."

Agatha chuckled under her breath, looking at you over the rim of her glass. "I thought you’d approve. Little miss history major." You blushed, fiddling with the stem of your glass.

"I’m writing about the witch trials," you muttered, like she didn’t already know. Agatha’s eyes gleamed in the low light. "I know." You grumbled. Of course she knew she just help you with it earlier today! You about faceplamed but you fear that would've just been worse.

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you just watched each other. Then you cleared your throat, desperate for something— anything —to break the tension curling between you.

"Alright," you said, sitting up a little straighter. "What else do you do? Any hobbies that don’t make you sound like a haunted museum curator?"

Agatha grinned, lazy and slow. "I can cook."

You gave her a look. "Grilled cheese doesn’t count."

"It does if you make it right," she shot back, mock offended. You laughed into your glass, warmth blooming in your chest. God, this was... nice. Weird. But nice.

"You’re not what I expected," you said before you could stop yourself. Agatha tilted her head. "Oh? And what exactly were you expecting?" 

You shrugged, cheeks burning. "I don’t know… some recluse scary writer, I guess."

Agatha smiled, slow and sharp. "You think I’m not scary?" You opened your mouth. Closed it. Took another drink. She laughed, low and smug, and set her glass down on the coffee table. You stared at her for a second, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I think you’re... complicated."

Agatha’s smile faltered for just a second. Not gone. Just... softer. She leaned back, studying you like you were a puzzle she hadn’t decided whether to solve or leave broken. "You’re not wrong," she said finally, voice quieter now.

You sipped your wine, heart pounding a little harder than before. "You’re complicated too," Agatha added after a beat, and somehow it sounded like a compliment.

You smiled, tucking your knees up against your chest. Another minute of silence stretched between you—comfortable now, somehow. The wine was buzzing pleasantly under your skin, loosening the stiffness from your muscles, from your tongue.

You fiddled with the rim of your glass, feeling the warmth spread lower, sinking into your chest, your thighs. The edges of the room went soft and golden, like a painting you couldn't quite look at directly.

"You’re staring," Agatha said lazily.

You blinked, realizing you were, in fact, staring at her—at the slope of her neck, the careless way her sweater slipped off one shoulder, the slow, languid twirl of wine in her glass.

You coughed into your hand, mortified.

"I think you’re a bit drunk, Ms. Harkness," you muttered, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Agatha tilted her head, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Don't call me that," she said, voice dropping into something low and dangerous.

Your breath caught.

"It makes me feel old," she added, sipping her wine like she wasn’t slowly skinning you alive with her words. You tucked your knees closer, trying to hide the way your thighs pressed together, the way a sudden throb deep in your core made your breath stutter. There it was again—that pull. The heat. The ache.

You looked at her through your lashes, your voice a little smaller now.

"...Should I call you Agatha, then?" You joke softly.

The way she smiled made your skin prickle. "Agatha's fine," she said, swirling her wine lazily. "Unless you want to call me something else." You choked on your drink, coughing violently into your sleeve. Agatha just laughed, the sound low and teasing. God, she was dangerous. Absolutely, mind numbingly dangerous.

"You’re evil," you said hoarsely, setting your glass down before you could embarrass yourself further.

She just smiled wider, looking so goddamn smug. "You’re not the first to accuse me of that," she said, voice syrupy.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, groaning dramatically. "I’m too drunk for this."

"You’re barely tipsy," Agatha teased. She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees, glass dangling from her fingers.

Her eyes found yours again. Caught. Held. "You’re cute when you’re flustered," she said, almost conversationally, like it was just a fact. Heat flooded your face—and lower. Your cunt clenched again, desperate and aching, as if your body wanted to betray you completely.

You hated it.

You loved it.

You looked away, trying to pretend you weren’t seconds from losing your mind. "You’re mean," you muttered.

"I’m honest," Agatha corrected, sitting back against the couch, looking terribly pleased with herself. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your racing heart.

"Seriously though," you said after a moment, voice still a little shaky. "How old are you?"

Agatha tilted her head again, considering you like she might eat you whole. "Older than you’d think," she said finally, voice smooth as silk.

You narrowed your eyes, pushing back, emboldened by the wine. "That’s not an answer."

Agatha’s smile grew wider, almost fond. Almost dangerous.

"It’s the only answer you’re getting," she said, taking a slow sip from her glass, eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at her.

You weren't imagining it.The way she spoke. The way she moved.  The way she always seemed slightly out of time, like she belonged to another era entirely.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of the wet heat pooling in your underwear. Agatha’s gaze flickered down—barely noticeable—then back up. You swallowed hard. The tension crackled between you, thin and sharp and so damn close to snapping.

"You’re not... like, a hundred, are you?" you asked, voice lighter than you felt.

Agatha laughed, low and dark. "Would it bother you if I was?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, eyes gleaming.

Your mouth opened. Closed. You had no idea what to say. She laughed again, softer this time, and reached for the bottle, topping off both your glasses without asking. You took yours with shaking fingers. Agatha clinked her glass lightly against yours, the touch lingering for half a second too long.

"To curiosity," she said, voice dipped in velvet.

You swallowed and echoed her.

"To curiosity."

You both drank. The air between you buzzing now— live wire tight. Agatha leaned back again, stretching like a cat, sweater riding up just enough to flash a strip of bare stomach.

You swallowed so hard it hurt.

"So," Agatha said, studying you with that lazy, predatory amusement. "You’re staying for three more days, hm?"

You nodded, trying not to look directly at the bare skin she wasn't even trying to hide. "That was the plan."

Agatha hummed, tapping her glass against her knee. "Shame," she said, almost idly. "You’re just starting to get interesting."

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting.

"I've been interesting," you said, too quickly, too defensively.

Agatha laughed, eyes sparkling. "Mm. Debatable," she said, but there was no bite in it.

Only... fondness. 

You stared at her, your chest tightening, your thighs clenching together again. Your whole body screamed for her—wanted her—so badly it hurt.And Agatha...

She knew. 

She had to know. She watched you like she could read every secret, every pulse under your skin. Her smile softened a fraction, and for a second, you saw it. The loneliness. The weight she carried beneath all the smirks and sarcasm. You wanted to touch her. You ached to.

But you stayed where you were, hands clutched around your wine glass like a lifeline. Agatha shifted forward, setting her empty glass down. She was closer now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to ruin you.

She held your gaze, steady and unblinking, the firelight dancing in her dark hair. And when she spoke, it was barely a whisper "Careful, little historian."

You shivered, the words skating down your spine.

"You keep looking at me like that," Agatha murmured, her voice rich and low, "and I might get ideas." You opened your mouth—to say what, you didn’t know. But nothing came out.

Nothing but the rapid, shallow sound of your breathing. You were one wrong move away from falling headfirst into something you couldn't undo. And god help you— You wanted to. You swallowed hard, the heat in your body climbing higher, pooling low in your belly.

You couldn’t look away from her. You didn’t want to. You gripped your wine glass tighter, heart pounding against your ribs, and before you could chicken out, before you could think better of it, you heard yourself say— "Maybe I like some of your ideas." Your voice was soft, a little shaky, but you didn’t take it back.

Agatha’s eyes darkened immediately. That slow, almost lazy amusement on her face tightened into something sharper. Hungrier.

You watched her carefully set her glass down on the coffee table. Deliberate. Smooth. You could barely breathe. For a long second, neither of you moved. You just watched each other. The fire crackled in the hearth. The air between you throbbed, heavy, electric.

Then—

Slowly, carefully, Agatha shifted closer. The couch dipped under her weight. Your thighs brushed. You sucked in a shaky breath, feeling the heat of her even through your clothes. Agatha’s hand came up, fingers ghosting lightly along the side of your face—so soft it made you tremble. She paused there.

Waiting.

Giving you the chance to pull away. To change your mind.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You tilted your face up to her, just slightly—enough. That was all she needed.

Her mouth met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. Tasting. Her lips were warm, plush, and you could taste the wine on her tongue—sweet and sharp and intoxicating. You whimpered into her mouth, and that was it.

The dam broke.

Agatha’s hand slid into your hair, tugging you closer, deepening the kiss. You gasped against her lips, and she swallowed it down, kissed you harder—hungrier—like she was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy her.

You clutched at her sweater, desperate, needy, pulling her against you. You could feel her smile against your mouth, wicked and greedy, and god—you wanted more. You needed more.

The heat between your legs throbbed violently, your cunt clenching with every messy brush of her tongue against yours. You moaned into her mouth, your thighs pressing together helplessly.

Agatha groaned low in her throat, like the sound of you was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Her hands slid lower, gripping your hips, tugging you closer until you were half in her lap. You gasped again, dizzy, drunk on her, drunk on the wine, drunk on the way she kissed you like she owned you—like you’d belonged to her long before this moment.

Her mouth slanted over yours again and again, deeper each time, her teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip, making you whine. You arched into her without thinking, hands sliding up her chest, fingers tangling in the soft fabric of her sweater.

You could feel her heartbeat hammering just as fast as yours. Could feel her body tense and trembling under your hands.

She wanted you. You could feel it.

And god—

You wanted her, too.

You kissed her harder, mouth opening wider, letting her in, letting her have you, your hands clawing at her, trying to pull her closer, closer, closer. Agatha’s hands roamed your body—your waist, your ribs, the curve of your ass—until you were shivering under her touch, helpless, completely undone. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, her forehead rested against yours.

Her breath was ragged.

Her lips were swollen and red.

Her hand was still tangled in your hair. You stayed there for a long second, breathing each other in. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The world had shrunk down to just this.

Just her.

Just you.

And the taste of wine still lingering between your teeth. You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was her.

But one second you were catching your breath— and the next you were crashing back together, mouths colliding, teeth knocking clumsily. A desperate, needy kind of kiss.

Messy.

Hot.

Your fingers found the hem of her sweater, curling into it, dragging her closer until your chest pressed against hers, until you could feel every frantic beat of her heart against your ribs. Agatha groaned into your mouth, her hands slipping under your thighs, pulling you fully into her lap without a hint of effort. You gasped at the sudden closeness, at the way your body molded against hers, perfectly, like you'd been made to fit.

Her hands ran up your sides, slow at first, almost taunting, and you whimpered into her mouth, your hips shifting helplessly against her. You couldn’t help it. You needed more. Your hands slid up—over her ribs, across her shoulders—until they tangled into her dark, messy hair, tugging gently, and she moaned low into your mouth, deep and rough and absolutely devastating.

You felt it all the way to your toes. You kissed her harder, letting your wine fogged bravery push you further. You tore your mouth from hers and kissed along her jaw, trailing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the elegant line of her neck.

Agatha’s breath hitched— and then, to your utter, drunk delight—

A sound slipped out of her. Small. Ragged.

Choked.

Barely there.

But enough.

Enough to make your core clench painfully, enough to make heat flood between your thighs until you were practically trembling in her lap. You kissed her neck again— harder this time—sucking lightly just under her jaw. Agatha’s hands tightened on your hips, dragging you even closer, grinding you down against the firm, strong line of her thigh.

You moaned helplessly, gasping against her skin, desperate to get closer, to be closer, to disappear into her entirely. "Fuck," you breathed against her throat.

Agatha laughed low and breathless, one hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into the curve of your spine. "You're trouble," she murmured, voice wrecked and thick with wine and heat.

You kissed along her throat again, more shameless now, your body rocking against hers without even thinking. "You're worse," you muttered back, dragging your teeth lightly over her pulse point.

Agatha’s hand slid up into your hair, tugging your head back just slightly, just enough to make your lips part with a soft gasp. Her eyes locked onto yours—dark, glazed, starving. "You have no idea," she whispered.

And then she was kissing you again— harder, deeper, teeth scraping against your bottom lip, her tongue pushing into your mouth like she needed to own every inch of you.

You melted against her, your whole body on fire, your thighs shaking with need. You could feel the dampness soaking through your underwear, could feel your cunt throbbing for her, desperate and aching.

Her hands roamed everywhere now—your back, your hips, the underside of your thighs—pressing you down harder against her lap, grinding you against her until you were whimpering into her mouth, clutching at her like you’d fall apart if you let go.

You didn’t know where you ended and she began. Didn’t care. You only wanted more. More of her mouth. More of her hands. More of her. Always more. And when you pulled back just enough to breathe, panting against her lips, her forehead resting against yours, her hands still locked around your waist— Agatha smiled. A slow, wicked, possessive kind of smile. And you realized with a shiver—

You were already hers.

You just hadn’t said it out loud yet.

your nails dug into her shoulders, dragging her closer, desperate to keep your mouth on hers, to keep feeling her—tasting her. You were dizzy with it, drunk on her— on the wine— on the heat and hunger simmering between you.

But then— Something shifted. It was like falling through ice.

Your body jerked against hers— and then you were elsewhere. 

FLASH.

The forest.

But not just any forest.

This one knew you.

The trees stretched up like twisted hands clawing the sky, gnarled and black, draped in heavy curtains of moss.

The air was thick with smoke.

The mist clung to your skin like a second layer.

Antlers gleamed through the fog— towering, grotesque shapes worn by figures in dark robes.

Their faces hidden behind bone masks.

Their chants low, guttural, old.

"Venite ad nos..." 

The words rippled through the trees, vibrating the ground beneath your bare feet.

You stood barefoot in a circle scorched into the earth.

Symbols carved deep, pulsing with faint purple light.

You could feel the magic in your bones.

It throbbed under your skin, ancient and aching.

Latin spilled from your mouth without thinking— words you didn’t understand but spoke as if you'd known them forever.

"Dominus noctis, audi me." 

The robed figures bowed lower, their antlers dipping toward the earth.

And across the clearing—

Agatha.

Not dressed like now.

She wore no modern clothes.

Just a long black cloak thrown over simple linens, her hair loose and wild around her shoulders.

And her eyes— God, her eyes—

Violet.

Unholy.

Beautiful.

They locked onto yours, and something inside you remembered. 

You loved her.

You belonged to her.

In that life.

In this one.

Forever.

She stepped forward, the mist parting around her like it feared to touch her. She reached for you— and you met her halfway, falling into her arms without hesitation. The chanting rose louder, frenzied now, a fever pitch that rattled your teeth.

Above you, something vast and ancient stirred in the darkness—something watching.

Agatha pressed her forehead to yours. "You were always meant for more," she whispered, voice breaking like she was trying to save you— or maybe damn you.

The world burned purple around you.

FLASH.

Back to the present— but you weren’t fully back yet.

Your fingers were still clutching Agatha’s sweater, your lips still pressed to hers— but your body seized, convulsing once, twice.

Pain ripped through your skull. And then— you felt it—

Warm and wet against your upper lip. Agatha pulled back instantly, hands clamping your wrists, forcing you still. "Hey," she rasped, voice rough and terrified for once. "Hey, look at me—"

You blinked, disoriented. Your vision swam— the firelight spun around the room in dizzy gold streaks.

Agatha’s hand cupped your jaw, firm but trembling. Your breath hitched when you saw her thumb brush your upper lip— coming away slick with thick, black blood.

The same tar dark gunk you'd thrown up days ago. "No, no—" you whimpered, trying to pull back, heart hammering wildly in your ribs, but Agatha held you steady.

"Shh," she whispered, voice low and almost fierce. "You're alright. Just breathe. You're alright." You gasped against her palm, your chest heaving, your mind still reeling from the vision. The black blood dripped slow and viscous down your chin, staining your shirt, smearing her hand.

Agatha's eyes were huge, dark pools, scanning your face like she could will you back into your body. You tried to say something—tried to apologize, to explain— but all that came out was a broken, shuddering sob. Your nails were still dug into her shoulders—hard enough to bruise—but she didn’t pull away.

She didn’t even flinch. She just gathered you against her, pressing your forehead to hers, breathing with you.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

"You’re alright," she murmured again. "I've got you. I've got you." You clutched at her sweater, gasping, trembling, the black blood still weeping from your nose. And behind your eyes— Still there, burning — the image of the woods. The antlers. The chanting. Agatha’s violet eyes across the mist.

The raw, undeniable certainty— You hadn’t just studied witches.

You had been one. 

You had loved her once. And somehow, impossibly— some part of you still did. You shuddered violently, your face pressing harder into Agatha’s neck. She rocked you gently, one hand cradling the back of your head. Neither of you spoke.

Not yet.

The only sound was your ragged breathing— the faint crackle of the fire behind you— and the slow, steady thud of Agatha’s heart against your chest.

Holding you here. Holding you together. For now.

You were trembling in her arms. Still tasting blood. Still feeling the ghost of the woods pressing into your skin. Still dizzy with the memory of a life you couldn't possibly have lived. Agatha held you tighter, the rough knit of her sweater scratching your cheek.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Just breathing. Just surviving.

But the longer you sat there, the hotter it burned. Confusion. Fear.

The ache.

You jerked back finally, tearing yourself out of her hold. Agatha let you go instantly, her hands falling away like you’d burned her. You stumbled a step back, wiping at your mouth, at the black sludge still oozing sluggishly down your chin. "What the hell is happening to me?" you whispered.

Agatha didn’t answer. Her hands clenched at her sides. You shook your head, your heart hammering painfully against your ribs. Your throat clogged with grief. With fear you couldn’t name.

You pointed a shaky finger at her, voice cracking. "Is this you?" you demanded. "Are you—" Your breath hitched. "Are you doing this to me?"

Agatha flinched. Actually flinched. And something in your chest twisted at the sight. She looked— not angry. Not defensive.

Just... stricken.

"I’m not—" she started, voice rough, but she stopped herself. You laughed, a broken, bitter sound. The wine still buzzed under your skin, making everything feel too close, too bright, too raw .

"I don't know anything anymore," you said, voice shaking. "I don’t know what's real. I don’t know who the hell I am. I see things—feel things—every time I get near you. And now I'm puking up black tar and speaking Latin and—" Your breath stuttered. "—and I don't even know if I'm losing my mind or if you’ve been lying to me this whole time."

Agatha was silent. Watching you. Still. Too still.

It made you want to scream.

"Say something!" you snapped, voice breaking completely now. Agatha’s mouth twitched like she was about to— but then she just shook her head.

Like it wasn’t that simple. Like no answer she could give would fix what was breaking open between you. "You're not crazy," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "And I'm not hurting you."

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Tears stung the corners of your eyes—hot and fast and unwanted. "But you're not telling me everything either," you said, voice trembling. "You know something. You know why this is happening to me."

Agatha's jaw worked—tightening, relaxing, tightening again. She looked away first. Looked at the fire instead of you. "I know enough," she said quietly. "To be scared for you."

The words gut punched you harder than anything else she could have said. You wiped your mouth again with the back of your hand, feeling the sting of embarrassment, anger, grief swirl under your skin.

Agatha said nothing. And that silence— that infuriating, suffocating silence— was somehow worse than any lie she could have told.

Your chest heaved. Your side ached with every breath. The black veins pulsed painfully under your skin, screaming that something inside you was wrong, broken, unraveling.

And she was just— standing there. Silent. Stone faced.

Safe.

While you felt like you were falling apart piece by piece. "Of course you won’t say anything," you choked out, taking a staggering step backward. "Because that’s what you do, isn’t it?"

Agatha’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t move. "You lie," you hissed, your voice rising. "You dodge. You deflect. You hide in this stupid house like the world’s already ended!"

"Stop," Agatha said quietly. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"You act like you’re so above it all—so clever, so fucking untouchable—but you’re just scared," you spat. "Too scared to tell the truth. Too scared to even face it!"

The words were pouring out now, too fast, too raw to stop. "And you know me," you shouted, your voice cracking apart at the edges. "I know you do. Because I’m having these—" You clawed a hand through your hair, trembling so hard you could barely breathe. "These visions ! And you’re in every single one of them!"

Your voice broke on the last word. "You’re always there," you whispered hoarsely. "Staring back at me. Like you remember." Agatha didn’t deny it. She didn’t even flinch. She just stood there, her face carved in stone, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

The fire cracked sharply in the hearth, the only sound between you. "I can’t do this," you muttered, backing up another step toward the hallway. "I can’t stay here."

"You’re not leaving," Agatha said immediately—too fast, too sharp. You barked out a humorless laugh, swallowing down the bitter taste of bile and wine and rage.

"You don’t get to tell me what to do," you snapped, shoving past the couch. Agatha moved to block you without hesitation, her body between you and the door like a wall.

"You don’t understand," she said, voice low, nearly shaking with something you couldn't name. "It’s not safe for you out there."

"I don't care!" you shouted, the words ripping out of you like claws. "I don't care if it's not safe! I can't breathe in here! I can't think—"

"You think the beast is gone?" she cut you off sharply, stepping closer.

You stumbled a step back but kept your chin high, your heart hammering against your ribs so hard it hurt.

"You think it isn't waiting for you?" Agatha said, her voice cold and cutting now. "You summoned it. It's tied to you. You walk out that door, it’ll rip you apart before you even make it to the street."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Because you didn’t have an answer for that. Your body shook with exhaustion, your side throbbed in time with your heartbeat, but the anger was still burning too bright to stop. "You think I don’t know fear?" you whispered, your voice ragged. "You think you get to be the only one who's scared?"

Agatha said nothing. The silence stretched again, taut as wire. "I trusted you," you said, voice breaking. "I don't even know why. I don’t even know you."

Agatha’s mouth opened. Closed. Like the words were too big, too dangerous, to say aloud. And maybe they were. But you didn’t wait around to hear them. You shoved past her again, your shoulder slamming into hers harder than you meant, sending a sharp ache jolting through your wounded side.

You didn’t care.

You stormed down the hall, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood, the whole house seeming to shrink and twist around you with every step. Behind you— "Don’t," Agatha said, voice low, dangerous.

You ignored her. Reached for the front door. Fumbled with the lock. Your fingers were shaking so hard you could barely turn it.

The door creaked open— And then you were yanked back, spun around so fast the world blurred. Your back hit the wall with a dull thud, the breath punched out of your lungs. Agatha pinned you there, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your wrist so tightly it made your whole arm throb.

You gasped, heart crashing against your ribs, blinking up at her— And froze. Because her face was inches from yours. Her eyes boring into you. And for a second— just a second— you saw it. A flicker. A flash of something not quite blue. Not quite human.

Violet.

Burning.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your pulse hammering wildly. But when you blinked again, it was gone. Trick of the light. Wine. Fear. You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. "You can’t leave," Agatha hissed, her voice raw, like it was being torn from somewhere deep inside her. "I won’t let you."

You struggled, half hearrted, more out of instinct than any real intent to fight her off. "Let go," you rasped, chest heaving.

"No," she snarled. The hand by your head slammed flat against the wall, the sound echoing through the foyer like a gunshot.

You flinched. "You don’t understand," Agatha said, low and feral. "You walk out that door, and it’ll tear you apart. I can’t —" Her voice broke. She leaned in closer. So close you could feel the heat rolling off her skin. So close you could taste the wine on her breath.

"I can't lose you again," she whispered. You stared at her, your heart thundering in your ears. Again.

Again?

The word rattled around in your skull like a bullet, leaving everything else in its wake shattered and senseless. You swallowed hard, the fight bleeding out of your limbs, leaving you shaking with something else now. Something hotter.

Something hungrier .

Agatha’s hand loosened on your wrist—but didn’t let go. Her eyes searched your face— wild, desperate, furious. Waiting. Daring.

Your breathing was a mess. So was hers. Your bodies, still pressed too close, radiated heat. The kind that crackled. The kind that burned.

For one terrifying, electric moment— you thought she was going to kiss you again. Right there. Right against the goddamn door.

You wanted her to.

You hated yourself for it.

You loved yourself for it.

Your hand twitched against her chest, caught between shoving her away and pulling her closer.

She saw it. You knew she did. Because her lips parted—just slightly—like she was about to say something. Something that would wreck you. But she didn’t. She just stood there, pinning you to the wall, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her alive. And you— You didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare blink. Didn’t dare do anything except feel your whole body thrum with the knowledge that whatever existed between you was bigger than both of you.

Older. Hungrier. And it wasn’t finished yet. Not even close. You hated her. You hated her for lying. You hated her for knowing things you didn’t. You hated her for looking at you like that— for standing so close—

for daring to care .

Your body was trembling, your side ached, your lip was still wet with the aftermath of that cursed black blood— And you still wanted her. Maybe that was what broke you.

Maybe it was the fear. The confusion. The anger twisting hot and wild through your veins. Or maybe it was just her. Standing there, breathing just as raggedly as you. Not moving.

Waiting.

You surged up before you could think about it—before you could stop yourself—and slammed your mouth onto hers. Agatha jerked back half a step, stunned. Her hand slid from your wrist to your hip, gripping hard. You kissed her like you were drowning. Like you hated her for every secret she kept. Like you wanted to devour her just to finally get to the truth. Agatha made a soft, startled sound against your mouth—half gasp, half growl.

You felt her hesitate. Felt the split second war inside her. Then she snapped. Her hand fisted into your shirt, yanking you closer, and she kissed you back like she could burn the fight out of you. You groaned against her lips—frustrated, furious, needing more—and she swallowed it down like it was something precious.

Your fingers tangled into her hair, tugging hard enough to make her gasp against your teeth. And still— even as her hands slid hungrily down your back, even as her mouth moved over yours like a woman starved— you were muttering against her skin.

"I hate—" You gasped as her teeth grazed your lower lip. "I hate that you never explain anything—"

Another kiss, harder now, bruising.

"I hate that you always just look at me like—like you know —" Her mouth was on your jaw, your throat, her breath hot and desperate. "And you never—" You gasped when her fingers dug into your hips. "Never fucking tell me—"

She growled low in her throat, dragging you flush against her body, and the feel of her—solid, wild, real —made your head spin. Your nails scraped across her shoulders, clutching, grounding yourself against her.

Agatha’s left, veiny hand slid up under your shirt, not quite touching skin yet, but close—so close you could feel the heat of her palm burning through the thin fabric. You shuddered under her touch.

You hated her.

You needed her.

You hated needing her.

You moaned softly, biting down hard on your lip to keep from saying more, but she caught your chin, tilting your face up to hers, forcing you to look at her. Her pupils were blown wide, her cheeks flushed, strands of dark hair falling loose around her face.

"You think you’re the only one who hates it?" she rasped, voice wrecked and low. You stared at her, chest heaving. Her hand trembled slightly against your jaw.

"You think this is easy for me?" she whispered, her thumb brushing your cheekbone, almost tenderly. You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to breathe around it. So you kissed her again.

Harder.

Messier.

Drunker on her than you were on the wine. She met you halfway, groaning low in her throat as she pushed you back against the wall, her body caging yours in completely. Detaching Herself from your lips, her head moving down as her mouth was on your throat now, teeth scraping lightly at the sensitive skin there, and you gasped, your hands flying up to clutch at her shoulders again.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue when her mouth claimed yours again. Bitter and sweet and dizzying. You didn’t care. You wanted more. You raked your fingers through her hair, tugging, desperate. Agatha’s hands slid down to your thighs, gripping tight, dragging you up so you could wrap your legs around her waist—and you did, clinging to her like she was the only solid thing in a world made of shifting, lying shadows.

You could feel the vibration of her moan against your chest when you sucked lightly at the corner of her mouth. And she— She kissed you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Like you were a promise she was too broken to keep but couldn’t bear to let go of. And even through the haze of it— even through the anger and the hurt and the raw aching want— you knew:

This wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until she told you everything. Not until the lies were burned down to ash between you.

But for now— You clung to her. You clawed at her sweater, desperate for more skin, more heat, more proof she was real. Agatha’s mouth never left yours—not for a second—as she fumbled the hem of her sweater, ripping it over her head in one swift, impatient motion.

You pulled from the kiss, your hands flying up to touch her—bare skin, warm and flushed, the faintest marks of age and strength under your fingertips. Your nails scraped across her ribs and she growled , low and dangerous, pinning you harder against the door, grinding into you like she wanted to leave bruises, reminders, warnings.

You kissed her back just as feral, just as desperate. "I hope you choke on all your fucking lies," you gasped against her mouth, the words ripping free before you could think better of it.

Agatha froze. For one heartbeat—one crackling, unbearable heartbeat—her whole body went rigid. And then— You felt her smile against your lips, slow and razor sharp.

"You," she rasped, voice rough with the threat of breaking, "have a smart fucking mouth." You were panting, glaring up at her, your thighs tightening around her waist like you were daring her to do something about it.

"And enough of that—" She ducked lower, her mouth grazing the edge of your jaw, the thudding pulse in your throat, the tender slope of your collarbone, hot breath making you tremble. " For now. " You shuddered when she said it, her voice wrecked with restraint she was seconds from losing.

Her mouth dragged lower, teeth grazing your skin, leaving ghost bites down your neck. Your head hit the door with a soft thud, fingers twisted tight in her hair. You felt her exhale against your collarbone. Felt her lips barely brush the hollow of your throat. And then—hot, guttural, like it cost her something to say "I know you."

Your breath hitched. Her mouth moved lower, dragging down your chest, across your sternum. "Just not this body."

It punched the air from your lungs. A broken noise slipped out of you—somewhere between a sob and a moan—as you clutched her tighter, feeling like you might drown in her, in the wine and the heat and the impossible weight of her words.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because deep down—you knew it was true.

You knew it in your marrow. You knew it from the way your body answered hers like a prayer half remembered. You knew it from the way she kissed you like she was trying to put centuries of grief back inside your mouth. You gasped her name, raw and aching, and Agatha’s hands slid up under your shirt, mapping your ribs, memorizing you like she hadn't done it a hundred times before in other lives, other centuries.

You were dizzy.

Drunk.

Devastated.

And then—

You saw it again Just for a second. Her eyes flashed— violet —deep and blinding like the visions that haunted your sleep. You gasped, clutching at her bare shoulders. Agatha’s hand slid up—fast—catching your face in a rough, almost tender grip.

You barely had time to see her fingers coming—pressing two of them against your temple— Before the world tilted sideways. A shudder racked your body, your limbs going boneless, slumping against the doorframe. The last thing you saw before the darkness dragged you under was Agatha’s face— her flushed cheeks, wild hair, bitten lips— and something like regret burning behind her storm cloud eyes.

"Shh," she whispered, almost broken. "I'll fix it."  Then— Nothing.

Black.

Weightless.

Silent.

Like sinking to the bottom of a lake you’d never surface from.

And Agatha’s voice—the memory of it—following you down into the dark.

.

.

.

.

.

Authors note- How do you guys like the longer chapters compared to the usual 4-6k?

[98shawns]

some protector. (ii)

In the past, you and Rafe enter each other’s lives and change in ways neither of you expect. In the present, you’re worried that you haven’t changed one bit.

good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron

chapter one | two

words: 6622

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of throwing up, allusions to bullying, abusive situations, kissing, lowkey panic attacks, attempts at parallels, possible ooc rafe but only because he’s being sweet

a/n: why is this chapter twice the length of the first one? lmao. i think i like pre-established relationships wayyyyy to much !!!

o2: all at once familiar and foreign

[in the past]

Rafe Cameron is a bit intimidating.

His reputation precedes him. An obnoxious Kook boy who parties too hard and studies too little; a boy who could wreak havoc on your whole school and get away with just a slap on the wrist. Who would dare to step up to someone whose father could drag them into the ground?

Not you… definitely not you.

Not because you couldn’t, more because you had no reason to. You had better things to worry about than some rich kid with zero fear of consequence swimming through his mind. Rafe was as much of a background character in your life than you were in his— sure, you were classmates who saw each other every day, but there’s no reason he’d be interacting with you. The line that separates you from Kook royalty is drawn loud and clear.

Well, that was until you started tutoring Sarah Cameron.

“What the hell?” Were the first words out of Rafe’s mouth when he answered the door on your first day. His first words to you ever. You stood in front of the grand front door of the Cameron house, still dressed prim and proper in your school uniform despite biking from school, while he had already changed out of his: shirtless (because of course he is), and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that sat low enough on his waist for you to lose your train of thought.

He must’ve just showered, with his face flushed and hair damp and messy and sticking to his forehead. You catch yourself staring just long enough to realize that he has caught you staring him down.

“Oh… hi.” You greet him, heart racing. “I’m here to tutor Sarah.”

Rafe tilts his head, “You’re the tutor?”

Your eye twitches because there’s something about the way he says it; like he’s shocked and amused, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh in your face or let you in.

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Your dad contacted me personally to set this up. Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.”

Rafe hums and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You’re that Pogue girl from fourth period, right? The fisherman’s daughter.”

You raise your chin. “I’m also top of our grade. But sure, let’s go with that.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with a smirk.

But before he could respond, Sarah’s voice rings out from deeper in the house. “Rafe! Is that the tutor?”

“She’s all yours, princess,” Rafe calls over his shoulder. He steps aside, but not without giving you a once-over that makes your skin feel hot. “Good luck.”

You frown as you walk past him, and you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes on your back.

But try as you might, Rafe Cameron is hard to ignore.

His house was huge; there were too many hallways and high ceilings that should’ve made sure you never crossed paths. Yet, he still finds a way to linger in the background like some sort of ghost for your first few visits. Sometimes you heard his music thumping from upstairs, sometimes he was gone entirely doing god knows what. But there are moments when you catch him watching you. Just glimpses: leaning on the banister above the sunroom where you tutored Sarah, or perched on the stairs as you pack your things. His gaze is unreadable, always lingering a beat too long.

Even in the walls of Kook Academy where everyone else whispered storms around you, you sometimes caught Rafe silently staring at you from across the classroom, or in the hall while you swapped books out from your locker. He kept himself at an arm’s distance, and you paid him no mind the best you could while swallowing the fact that sometimes when you looked up, your eyes were searching for his without even realizing.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

It isn’t until a few weeks of catching glimpses of Rafe that you finally speak to him again.

It was at a party one of the seniors from your club was throwing— something you were offhandedly invited to, and something you were not planning on attending until one of your old friends from The Cut called you in the middle of the night.

“I’m throwing up in the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.” Her words were slurred over the phone, and after confirming that she doesn’t have anyone to drive her home tonight, you immediately swipe the car keys off the kitchen counter and tiptoe out the front door to pick her up.

When you pull up to the house and walk inside, you’re immediately swarmed by what seems like the entirety of your school’s student body. You brace yourself as you swim through the crowd, eventually jogging up the stairs and repeating to yourself where your friend had told you she was posted. The second floor, four doors to the left.

You turn left and count the doors as you pass them, each decorated with some sort of ornate crowning that would make you feel dizzy if you were actually paying any attention. Four doors. Three doors. Two doors. One door.

“Hey I’m here, are you—” You're quick to open the door, only to be met with Rafe Cameron. Shirtless. Kissing some girl’s neck.

You barely even notice that this door did not open to the most beautiful bathroom you’d ever see. Heat crawls up your neck as Rafe looks up at you, pulling away from the girl he was holding to give you a genuinely surprised expression. His lips part and the beginning of your name starts at the curl of his tongue, but you’re quick to squeak out an apology before he can call out to you, slamming the door shut and scrambling towards the next door over.

There, you’re finally met with your friend groaning over some sort of fancy contraption that you could only assume was a toilet. You try to ignore the image of Rafe Cameron caging some girl against the wall to help your friend up, almost dropping her in the process when you remember the way he looked up at you. Did the mere sound of your voice do that much to take him out of the moment?

“Fuck, sorry.” You huff, wrapping your arm around your friend’s waist to steady her wobbling body.

You walked out the bathroom and into the hall, only to be met with Rafe pulling his shirt back on, his eyes lighting up when he saw that you hadn’t left.

Your mind feels numb, and you aren’t quite sure if the beating in your chest is from the bass reverberating throughout the house or your heart.

“Hey,” Rafe greets, smoothing down his hair before quirking a brow at your friend. “I didn’t know you had friends other than Sarah.”

You roll your eyes, tightening your grip on your friend’s waist.

“She’s a friend from my side of the island.” You muttered, finally glancing at Rafe to give him a quick once-over. His shirt was rumpled, half-tucked into his shorts, and his eyes are still hazy from whatever he was doing before you interrupted. But there’s something sharper behind them now… like he’s awake in a way he wasn’t just moments ago.

He lets out a low chuckle and steps toward you, snapping you out of your trance. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Your friend groans dramatically in your arms, her head lolling forward and it makes you sigh, already dreading the dead weight she’s about to become.

Rafe watches for a second, then steps closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Here,” he says, voice low. “Let me.”

Before you can even protest, he’s sliding an arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her like she’s nothing. His forearm brushes across your chest briefly. Totally accidental, but something about it still sends a little shock through your spine.

“She’s heavier than she looks,” you manage.

Rafe grins. “Good thing I work out.”

You snort before you can stop yourself, which earns you a glance. A real one. Not the usual smirk or once-over, but something slower, something that lingers.

“You laugh different when you’re not at school,” he says, casually, like he didn’t just say something that made your heart skip a beat.

You blink. “You notice how I laugh?”

His gaze doesn’t flinch. “I notice a lot more than you think.”

Your breath catches for half a second before you look away, heat blooming on your cheeks.

The two of you make your way through the chaos of the house, dodging spilt drinks and stumbling students slurring, “Oh my god, is that the Pogue girl?”, whenever they passed you. You’d be bothered any other day, but for some reason, focusing on Rafe’s back made the chaos of the party unnoticeable.

Once you’re outside, you unlock your truck with a click. “I drove the Chevy my family uses for business. It’s beat-up. You can’t miss it.”

Rafe gives a half-laugh. “The one with the duct tape around the mirror?”

“Hey, that duct tape is structural.”

He lowers your friend gently into the passenger seat, making sure her head doesn’t hit anything. She mumbles something in her sleep, and you watch him silently as he buckled her in.

He closes the door, then straightens up before walking over to where you stood at the passenger side. He looks at you closer now, closer than he probably needs to be. His hand lingers on the roof of your truck.

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

You nod. “Didn’t drink. Just came for her.”

He studies your face for a moment, and the air feels heavier with whatever it is he’s not saying.

Then he cocks his head, “You’ve got that look.”

You frown. “What look?”

His voice dips just slightly. “Like you’re used to taking care of everyone but yourself.”

You don’t answer. Mostly because you can’t. Not when his words settle right in your brain and block your thoughts.

Rafe rocks back on his heels, then gestures to your truck. “Still… be careful. Lots of idiots out tonight.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to stay steady. “Are you… being nice to me?”

He gives a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

But he’s smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. And it makes a wave of warmth crash through your body.

You open the driver’s door but hesitate, glancing back one more time. “Thanks. For helping.”

He lingers, looking at you through his lashes. “You should come to one of these parties not as a rescue mission sometime.”

“And do what?” you scoff. “Shotgun beers with the Kooks?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe just let someone take care of you for once.”

Your breath hitches. He holds your gaze for a second too long, then turns, disappearing into the house like nothing happened.

But you stay there. Frozen, heart thudding stupidly in your chest.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

You don’t speak to Rafe until the following Tuesday tutoring session.

(Not that you’re paying attention)

He shows up in shorts and a grey hoodie, zipped up low enough for his chest to be visible. The hood of his sweater loosely covers his hand, and you notice that his hair’s damp again. You wonder if he’d come back from the beach. Sarah gives him a look when he wanders into the sunroom where you're reviewing chemistry formulas with her. “Do you mind?” she says, flicking a pencil at him. “You’re not subtle.”

“I live here,” Rafe deadpans, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and cracking it open. “Didn’t know I needed a reservation to hydrate.”

You keep your eyes on the textbook, even as you feel his stare burn like sunlight against your skin.

Sarah sighs. “If you’re staying, don’t distract—”

“Relax,” Rafe says, already dropping into the armchair across from you both. “I’ll be quiet. Like a ghost.”

He’s not quiet.

He interrupts twice to ask dumb hypothetical questions. At one point, he throws an eraser at Sarah and then blames it on you. Every time you look up, he’s already looking at you: amused, like he knows he’s getting under your skin.

But the weirdest part?

He listens. Actually listens. He doesn’t even pretend to be bored when you’re explaining molar mass. When Sarah groans and throws herself dramatically onto the couch, declaring she’s over it, you expect Rafe to leave with her.

Instead, he stays.

“Think you could tutor me sometime?” He asks with a smirk.

You snort. “Sure. I specialize in lost causes.”

He leans forward, arms braced on his knees, voice lower. “Bet you could fix me if you really tried.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. And yet…

You clear your throat and shut the textbook a little too forcefully. “Session’s over.”

He grins. Like he knows he got to you. Because he did.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

You couldn’t get Rafe out of your mind.

There was something confusing about him… he’s been hanging around you for months now, and the more you got to know him, the more you found out that he wasn’t all that he seemed. He teased you yet he seeks you out whenever you’re around. He was crass in a way all the Kooks in Figure Eight were, but at the same time he was kind like so many others hadn’t been. He was known as a stupid asshole party boy but was as clever as a whip, with a quiet kind of curiosity that made you feel seen.

You think about the way he leans in close whenever you speak, how his lips part whenever he says your name, how his lips were attached to that girl's neck at the party those fewmonths ago—

Fuck, you think, increasing the speed of your pedalling as you bike to the Cameron house. You had to stop thinking…

And it works, because Sarah had cancelled tutoring at the last minute, texting that she’s going out with friends. You showed up anyway—mostly because you forgot, mostly because you already made the ride.

You step inside when no one answers the door, calling out a soft hello.

No answer.

The house is oddly still.

You’re about to leave when a low voice catches your ear, muffled but sharp. You hesitate before following the sound, slow, careful not to make the floorboards creak. You knew who it came from, and something about his tone made you worry.

It’s coming from Ward Cameron’s office.

You’re halfway down the hall when you finally hear Rafe’s voice.

“I told you, I have it under control.”

Ward’s voice is colder. More precise. “What you have is a goddamn pattern, Rafe. Picking fights. Blowing money. Scaring off the clients we need. You think you’re bulletproof?”

“I’m doing everything you ask—”

“You’re doing everything wrong,” Ward cuts in, and the silence that follows is so thick you feel it in your teeth.

“You keep throwing my mistakes in my face,” Rafe says, quieter now. Bitter. “But you’ve made worse. You just hide yours better—”

That earns a sound that makes you flinch. Sharp, angry, skin making contact with skin.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that in my house.”

You flinch like you were slapped. You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.

You take a step back, heart thudding in your throat, only for your shoe to catch on the edge of the hallway rug with the softest shuffle of fabric.

Silence from the office.

Fuck.

You barely make it two steps off the porch before the door swings open behind you.

“Hey.”

Your breath catches.

Rafe.

He’s standing there like he was already on his way out, like he knew. His jaw’s clenched, cheeks flushed; not in that golden-boy, post-surf way, but like something just snapped.

Your stomach drops at the red mark blooming on the side of his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice low, guarded.

“I—” you hesitate. “Sarah canceled. I forgot. I was just leaving.”

“You heard that?” he asks, cutting straight through the lie.

You open your mouth. Close it again.

What point was there in lying?

His expression flickers. Not angry. Not yet. Just… raw. Like you peeled back something he’s spent years trying to bury.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he mutters, stepping out onto the porch, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you say quickly. “I—I wasn’t trying to snoop or whatever. I just… heard your voice.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter. Humorless. “Yeah, well. That’s what I am, right? Loud. Screwed up. Impossible to ignore.”

You shake your head. “That’s not—”

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you care.”

Your pulse jumps.

“Rafe, I—”

He says, stepping closer. “What do you even know? You’re just the perfect Golden Child with her whole life ahead of her while I’m some fuck-up who can’t do anything right.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering.

“Fuck,” he adds, voice softer now. “You’re always somewhere you’re not supposed to be. When I’m getting my ass handed to me, when I was at that party…”

He stops himself. Breath hitching. It’s like he’s weighing something dangerous on his tongue.

“I didn’t mean for you to see me like that,” he says. “With him. With that girl. With any of it. I didn’t mean for you to see me at all.”

And there it is.

The truth.

“You think I care about that?” you whisper, the words leaving before you can stop them. “That you’re not perfect? That you fight with your dad? Rafe, I don’t think less of you for any of that.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.

Like no one’s ever said that to him before.

You step closer, your voice trembling. “But I do care for you… but also, fuck. I’m worried, Rafe, of… whatever this is between us. Because it’s confusing and it’s not supposed to be happening.”

“Why not?” he says, voice rough.

“Because I’m supposed to keep my head down and get into college and not get tangled up with a Cameron.”

His eyes darken.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scaring me.” you admit. “It’s driving me insane.”

He moves then. Fast, but not reckless. Like he’s wanted to do this for weeks but was holding back out of some twisted sense of mercy. He cups your jaw with one hand, the other settling on your waist like he needs something to ground him.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Not of me.”

Then he kisses you.

And every second leading up to this; every stare, every smirk, every sleepless night replaying the way he looked at you just clicks.

Because this? This was always coming.

But by the time you process all of that, you barely notice, too focused on kissing him back to care.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

You don’t see Rafe at school the next day.

Or the day after.

No lazy smirks across fourth period. No shoulder bump in the hallway. No lingering in the back of Sarah’s tutoring sessions.

You keep your head down and spend your time trying to convince yourself that you didn’t imagine it. The way he kissed you like the world might end mid-breath. The way his hands curled at your waist like he didn’t know how to let go.

You’re not sure what you are to him now, and maybe he isn’t sure either.

Tutoring feels weird today. Sarah’s restless, asking for breaks every fifteen minutes, texting someone under the table. You can’t even blame her. You’re not exactly making English sound all too interesting.

You’re finishing up, quickly sifting through some vocab when you hear him.

Footsteps from upstairs. Slow. Careful.

Your heart kicks up even though you’re pretending to focus on irregular verbs.

A beat. Then another. He stops in the hallway, just outside the sunroom.

You freeze.

"Hey," comes his voice. Soft. Almost too soft to catch.

You look up. He’s leaning on the doorway, dressed down in a hoodie and gym shorts, like he just rolled out of bed. But his eyes are alert. Tired, maybe, but tracking yours like they’re trying to say something his mouth can’t yet form.

"Hey," you say back, quieter than you mean to.

Sarah doesn’t look up, still glued to her phone.

There’s a long pause. Rafe scratches the back of his neck, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s even doing here. His gaze flicks to your notebook, then back to you.

“I was gonna… ask if you wanted a ride home.”

Your heart stumbles.

You blink. “Oh. Um… I biked.”

His lips twitch, something like a smile. “Right. Forgot you’re stubborn like that.”

You can’t help the small smile that slips through. “And you’re nosy.”

His hand drags through his hair, anxiously. Endearingly. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

You don’t know what to say next, and you think he might fill the silence, but then Sarah groans and mutters something about needing to pee, sliding out of her chair with her phone still in hand.

You and Rafe are left in silence.

And just before he turns away, he looks at you again; softer this time. Vulnerable, like a deer approaching a man with a gun.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head. “Which part?”

His jaw shifts, like he’s afraid of saying too much. “The part where I kissed you.”

You struggle to form a single thought. The air feels like it holds its breath with you. Rafe just gives a quiet nod, like he’ll take whatever you can give, even if it’s nothing yet.

But you call out to him as he’s about to turn around and leave.

“Rafe,” You call, heart skipping a beat at the speed he turns back to look at you. “Maybe I… I’ll take you up on that ride.”

He takes a beat before nodding silently, mumbling something about how he’d put your bike in the back of his truck and wait for you while you cleaned up your space. You barely remember to say bye to Sarah as you make haste towards the driveway, where Rafe was leaning against the passenger door. He opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you in as if your family didn’t also own a huge vehicle.

When he settles into the driver’s seat and starts the car, it’s the beginning of a long, long ride.

The air is charged with a sort of tension that’s happy to rest on your shoulders. You think about what you said earlier. What he said earlier. And the words, the feelings that have been building up since that kiss, make your pulse race all over again. The quiet moments, the stolen glances… everything feels different now.

The only sounds that fill the silence between you two are your directions and the soft rumble of the truck. You fidfet with the hem of your skirt, glancing out the window to avoid looking at him too directly. But by the time you reach your neighbourhood, you finally use a moment to take Rafe in; the way he chews the inside of his cheek and furrows his brow in thought… the way his eyes are focused on the road but you know his mind is probably thinking about all the same things you were…

The sun had already set as he pulled into your driveway, and it’s only then when you realize you’d barely spoken to him the whole ride here.

“Rafe,” You start, taking in how he immediately turns towards you in anticipation. You bite your lip, “Thank you for the ride.”

He nods. “No problem—”

“Wanna come inside?” His eyebrows raise at the offer, and even though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest, you remain calm. “We should talk… away from my nosy neighbours.”

“Your parents would let a rowdy Cameron kid into your room with you alone?”

“No… just park a block away and come back through the window to my room, Rafe. I’ll let you in through there.”

Rafe is silent, taking a beat to consider your offer before he nods at your instructions. You leave the truck and unlock the door to your house, greeting your family before telling them you didn’t want to be disturbed in your room while you studied. They brushed you off with a nod, and you immediately head to your room to open your window; just a crack.

You take the time to quickly tidy your room; loose clothes and books were strewn across your room, and you picked them up and threw them in the closet with a clumsy quickness. The thought of a boy in your room… of Rafe Cameron in your room, even if he was just there to talk, made warmth bloom in your cheeks.

You’d tossed the last novel on top of your desk when you heard the tap on your windowsill— so quiet that you almost missed it.

Your breath catches as you turn towards your window because he’s there. Rafe Cameron, standing just outside your window, one hand on the ledge, hair wind-swept, eyes lit like he’s been wandering around in a storm and finally found home.

“You got here faster than I thought.” You say, moving to let him inside. Your eyebrows raise at the sight of him holding your bike by one handle.

He shrugs, “You left it in the back of my truck.”, and the thought of Rafe Cameron riding your beat-up pink bike back to your house makes you laugh a bit too loudly. He smiles back, carefully leaning your bike against your house before climbing in like it’s second nature, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

Rafe lands lightly on the floor of your room, his presence filling the space with a quiet intensity. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances around; eyes flitting over the books, the mismatched posters on your walls, the small trinkets scattered across your desk. He huffs out a chuckle at a picture of you posing with your brothers when you were kids, but there’s a moment of quiet, a bit of awkwardness that lingers between you both as he takes in the room.

You clear your throat, feeling the need to break the silence, even though you’re not entirely sure what to say.

“Rafe,” you start, catching his attention. He’d been smiling tensely, but upon seeing how you were looking at him, his lips quickly faded into a more serious expression. “What did you want to say to me earlier?”

He’s quiet, mustering up his words; the words that had been left unsaid.

“I guess,” he begins, voice a little rougher now, “I just wanted to make sure that kiss wasn’t just something that happened in the heat of the moment.”

You feel your heart leaping out of your chest as you shake your head, eyes locked on his.

“It wasn’t.” You whisper, your heart hammering in your chest as the words slip out before you can stop them.

Rafe’s expression softens at your response, his eyes searching yours, as though he’s trying to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood you. You can feel the weight of the conversation settling between you two, but something about it is different now… something in the way he’s not afraid that you’ll run away from him anymore.

He steps closer to you, the space between you getting smaller, until he's standing right in front of you. His eyes flick to your lips briefly, but he doesn’t move in just yet.

His gaze flicks to your collarbone, then back up to your eyes. You feel the heat between you both, thick in the space, as he leans in just a fraction, like he's waiting for permission, waiting for you to pull him the rest of the way in.

You know you’re the one to close the gap.

But before you do, your hand instinctively reaches out. You touch the side of his face, your fingers grazing the bruise there; the one he’d gotten from Ward the day you two kissed. It’s faint, a mix of purple and yellow, and you trace it with the tips of your fingers, barely pressing.

Rafe’s breath catches at the touch, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the soft sound of your breathing and the rush of your heart in your ears. His hand is warm as it reaches up to cover yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, his eyes locked on yours, vulnerable in a way he hasn't been before.

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispers, his voice raw, “To hurt you, to make things complicated.”

You give a small shake of your head, your touch lingering on the bruise, fingers lingering on his skin for just a moment longer. “It’s not complicated. Not really.”

The moment stretches, holding you both in its pull, and without thinking, you’re leaning up. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels different this time; softer, but more certain. It’s not frantic, not desperate. It’s a slow, deliberate thing, full of the things unsaid between you.

And as you pull back, the two of you stay close, your hand still on his cheek, his thumb brushing your wrist gently, neither of you quite ready to move away just yet.

The breeze from your open window sweeps over you, and the smell of the sea wafts into your room to wash away your worries.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

[the present day]

“Fuck!” You let yourself scream before you could cover your mouth, surprising Rafe in the process since you’d opened your window a crack before showering. He jumps, shocked as if he hadn’t just snuck up to your window like some thief in the night.

“You alright in there?” Your mom calls, her tone concerned as you run towards your bedroom door.

“I’m— shit— I’m fine! Just got scared by my reflection…” You yell back, closing your door as she mumbled something about profanity.

Your attention switched back to Rafe, who’d been frowning at your window like some sort of dog who got locked out of his owner’s house. You frown back, stomping towards where he stood as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What the hell?” You ask bitingly. If you were paying any less attention to the man on the other side of the glass, you wouldn’t notice how his shoulders almost flinched at your tone. “Are you going to stalk me now that I’m back in town? What made you think it was okay to just show up at my house like this?”

If Rafe couldn’t tell you were angry before, you’d think he’d became a blind man. You doubt he was even confused in the first place; if there’s one thing about Rafe Cameron it’s that he could read you like an open book, whether you liked it or not. He knew your tells, knew that every twitch in your face meant something different. He’d know you’d be livid to see him come to your window. It’s as if the last three years of no contact meant nothing to him as he stood in front of you, brow furrowed as he stared up at you. He was messing with you because he’d know. You know he’d know.

He’d know… yet you don’t quite understand why he looks so worried as he examines your expression.

“Your dad got into an accident.” He says, more as a statement than questioningly.

You roll your eyes, “Gee, news travels slow up in Kook-dom.”

Rafe’s frown deepens. “That’s why you’re back?”

“Rafe—”

“Are you okay?”

Your lips press together in an emotion you can’t quite describe. It’s the anger at seeing Rafe’s face mixed with the relief of feeling his concern… The juxtaposition of emotions makes your heart ache.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew how to respond, and Rafe’s reaction is immediate as his hands find your window pane.

“Let me in—”

“Wait.” Your voice is shaky as your hands come up to stop Rafe from opening your window and climbing into your room. He’s silent, watching the tears you’d left unshed in front of your family finally escape from your eyes.

“You’re not okay.” He says, sternly and plainly. He kept his hands on your window but didn't continue sliding it fully open, even though he could easily overpower your strength if he wanted.

You sniffle, “I’m fine.”

“Your dad is hurt and you had to go back in that boat. You’re not fine.”

“Fuck, Rafe.” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was no need to ask why he’d come all the way to The Cut to see you in your family’s quaint house by the water. History be damned, he knew you needed someone the way your family needed you; someone to lean on while you kept your household glued together. “How were you so sure I’d even talk to you?”

Rafe sighs, “You left your window open a crack.”

“It was out of force of habit!” You cry, finally crumbling at the reminder of a ritual between the two of you that had long passed its intended purpose.

It was all too much, being back at the Outer Banks. You cried like the child you were when you left, and couldn’t find it in yourself to care when Rafe moved to finally open your window. He climbed into your room with a practiced ease, and pulled you in an embrace that was all at once familiar and foreign. His larger frame engulfed yours like you were jumping into water.

Rafe stayed with you until you calmed down, sitting the both of you down on your bed while wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs once you stopped sobbing. He didn’t speak, waiting for you to break the silence as your breathing evened out.

After a few minutes of quiet, you finally look over at Rafe to take him in.

He’d always been handsome, but he turned from a boy to a man in the few years you were apart. Looking at him now, he’s broader than you remember, with arms lined with muscle that he didn’t have as a baby-faced teen. The delicate features on his face that once made him look innocent like a child had been hardened by something you weren’t quite able to grasp; a seriousness that made you feel small in comparison. The only thing that hasn’t changed was the feeling of warmth radiating from his palm as he rubbed your back.

Your eyes travel to his, and you wonder if he was studying you the same way as he looked you over.

“Rafe,” You start, catching his attention. His gaze is gentle, almost hopeful as he locks eyes with you. “Why were you at the harbour?”

“Oh. Stuff for my dad. He was there too; at a place near where your boat is docked.” He says, almost deflatedly.

You hum in response at the mention of Ward Cameron, and you barely notice how telling your frown is until Rafe huffs out a chuckle.

“What, you worried about me or something?” His smile is crooked when he asks, and now things are feeling way too familiar.

“Don’t joke. You shouldn’t have come here,” You sniff, deciding not to mention how he was the one who went out of his way to watch you set your sails this morning. He was the one who crossed the island just to see you when he knew you’d be home. He was the one who’s wiping your tears because he’s worried. “I told you the last time we saw each other that I didn’t…”

Rafe’s smile falters at the very mention of the memory, and you almost feel bad for him as he looks down at your lap to distract himself from it. You could still feel how his mood shifts— it’s suffocating. Rafe Cameron controls the air around him like he’s flicking a switch.

“I mean fuck, Rafe,” You felt your heartbeat quicken at his silence. “You can’t just— I can’t. I need to focus on what my family needs from me here… my dad needs surgery on the mainland and my mom has never been on her own and my brothers are way too young to—”

“Stop. I get it, okay? How long is your dad going to be recovering for?”

“A few months… at least six.”

“Shit…”

You know what Rafe wants to ask. You really can’t afford some help for a few months? Well, no… your family does well enough for life on The Cut but it’s only because your father works as much as he does. Early mornings to late evenings just like his father and his father’s father. And with the incoming hospital fees… no. You can’t afford to hire someone who wouldn’t put all their earnings back into your family.

But Rafe knows this. He may be a spoiled Kook but you know he knows… when he’d confide in you about his family, you’d confide in him about yours. That’s how it went back then. He knew you well enough not to ask.

There’s nothing more to say. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments longer before you speak up again.

“You should go home. I have an early day tomorrow.”

Rafe stills before nodding slowly, and the warmth of his hand on your back is suddenly gone as he moves to stand up. You follow close behind, leading him back to your window from whence he came.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay? You or your family. I can help, y'know." Rafe says, climbing out of your room and softly landing back onto the ground outside. He looks up at you as you lean out your window to see him off, just like you always did.

You take a beat to answer, taking in the sight of Rafe Cameron standing in front of your window. You always used to joke that he was some sort of Romeo whenever he said goodbye like this. Too sweet and cheeky to you for someone that was otherwise so apathetic and vicious towards everyone else. You look at him now, all grown up, and realize how long ago that all was.

“I hear things about you, dangerous things.” You start, studying Rafe’s face as your hands unintentionally find your window sill to come closer towards him. “If you want to help me out then stay out of trouble, Rafe. Please just stay safe.”

You can almost feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, and you know he can read your mind. Please stay safe. Please don’t make me worry about you, because you know I will.

Rafe’s expression turns from one of surprise into one of knowing, all in an instant. His smile is almost pained as he stares back up at you.

“After all these years apart, you're still the only person here who worries for me.” He says, more to himself than to you. You don’t respond, and the two of you take one last moment to put each other to memory before Rafe turns around and leaves without another word.

You watch him depart until he’s out of sight when you move to slide your window down, making sure it’s closed all the way before you make your way to your bed.

[billiesoxytocin]

my sweet girl.

pairing: milf!wanda x teacher!reader

summary: part 2 of parent teacher conference! wanda waits for you after an event at school and takes you home to go to pound town!

warnings: 18+ mdni. legal age gap. cheating-ish (but not really) wanda using her powers on you. mommy kink. praise kink. begggingggg. crying.?

word count: 3.1k (oops might have went overboard, sorry) read: parent-teacher conference (part 1) tags: @ciaoooooo111 @natsnerd @bella423

the school foyer was bustling and buzzing with excitement. it was little entrepreneur day, an initiative by your school to encourage the kids to start their own little business, just for a day.

you were smiling for the parents. you were clapping for the kids. you were doing your job—on the outside.

on the inside? you were unraveling.

since morning, your insides have been in a twist. as you unconsciously waited, and waited for a certain red-head to show up.

vision had arrived first. as he always had. your breath hitched at the sight of him. a sudden pang of guilt hitting your chest.

for the yearning you had for his wife. well, you weren't even sure if they were still together at this point.

no one in school has ever seen them in the same room, at the same time. so maybe you had nothing to worry about?

you kept yourself busy, helping kids with their booths, chatting with the parents. and suddenly, it was like something in the air shifted. goosebumps formed on your skin all the way to your neck.

you looked up, hopeful that someone felt it too.

but, apparently it was just you. nobody seemed to bat an eye.

and then there she was. your head whipped to the entrance of the foyer, where you saw almost a flash of red.

wanda walked onto school grounds like she owned the damn pavement. wearing a blood-red blouse tucked into dark jeans, sunglasses pushing back her perfectly styled hair, she looked nothing like the “ceo mom” she was introduced to you as.

she looked like trouble. slow, graceful, deliberate trouble.

you eyes lingered on her, walking past vision who was sipping on a kid-squeezed lemonade. she barely looked at him. no kiss. no lingering glance.

just a nod, a brief hello, and then she was gone—disappearing into the crowd of parents like she hadn’t just made your pulse stutter.

but then she found you.

her gaze settled on you from across the courtyard, and your breath caught without permission. you knew she was looking at you, because her smile changed. it softened at the corners. got a little wicked.

you ducked your head like a coward and went to check on billy's “custom slime” booth.

you were crouched next to his glitter containers when it hit you.

warmth.

a slow, tingling sensation crawling up the back of your thigh, beneath your skirt, and higher. like someone was brushing an invisible fingertip against the curve of your ass.

you gasped quietly, but still loud enough for a nearby mom to glance at you, confused.

you forced a smile. nodded. said something about the weather. all while burning on the inside.

when you dared to look across the yard, wanda was leaning against a lemonade stand, sipping something cold through a straw. eyes on you. smile faint but knowing.

you nearly dropped your clipboard.

you spent the rest of the event in a state of suspended panic. you’d see her in the corner of your vision, and suddenly there’d be a tug at your waistband. a pulse of warmth against the inside of your thigh. something that felt like a breath—right there. and yet every time you turned around, she wasn’t even near you.

no one else noticed. no one else could notice.

that made it worse.

you weren’t even sure how you held it together when the booths began shutting down. you smiled. waved. signed off on three more project evaluations. but your hands trembled, your knees wobbled. your body felt hot and confused and completely at wanda’s mercy—and you hadn’t even spoken to her all day.

when the boys left with vision, you thought maybe—maybe—your body would calm down. you even managed to joke with a few lingering parents as they shuffled toward the gates.

and then time passed.

twenty minutes. thirty. almost everyone was gone.

and when you finally stepped into the quiet school parking lot, the air cool against your flushed face, you saw her.

wanda. leaning against her sleek, dark car like a final exam you were destined to fail. her arms were crossed, eyes already on you. copper-red hair glowing faintly in the setting sun.

your heart skipped so hard you thought you might faint.

you froze, still halfway to your own car. “you waited?” you managed to breathe out.

“of course i did,” she said, pushing off the car with effortless grace.

she walked towards you slowly. your breath caught again.

why did she have to move like that? like she was stalking something she already owned?

you couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. your skin was still buzzing from her earlier magic, like it had left marks no one could see.

she stopped just close enough to make you feel dizzy.

“you looked so flustered today,” she murmured, tilting her head. “i wonder why.”

your lips parted. you didn’t trust your voice. you tried to think of something witty, or at least something coherent, but all that came out was a shaky, nervous laugh. as if you could not believe this was happening.

her smile deepened. “was it me?” she asked, softly. “was it mommy?”

you visibly flinched at the word, heat pooling in your stomach so fast it almost made you nauseous.

her eyes lit up, obviously loving the effect she had on you. she leaned in, brushing her lips near your cheek, not quite touching.

“you’re blushing,” she whispered. “adorable.”

you opened your mouth, but your voice broke on the first syllable.

she pulled back, not cruel, just patient. observant. watching you fall apart.

her hand came up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. and you hated how much you leaned into it, how much you craved for more of her touch.

then she said, just as gently, “come home with me.”

it wasn’t a question. it never was, with her.

you nodded.

how could you not?

she opened the passenger door for you like a gentleman, but her hand lingered at your back, just above your waistband, where you were still warm and aching from her earlier magic. she didn’t say a word as you sat down.

but the smirk on her lips told you everything.

the drive was quiet. not uncomfortable, just thick with all the things you weren’t saying.

you kept your hands folded tightly in your lap, fingers twisting like they might somehow wring out the heat sitting in your chest.

wanda didn’t speak. she didn’t have to. your gaze lingered on her fingers tapped the steering wheel in a rhythm that made your skin itch with anticipation. you almost wanted to slap yourself for imagining what those fingers could do to you.

her house was too perfect. sleek. modern. tucked behind tall hedges and an automatic gate that closed behind you with a quiet hum.

you didn’t know what to expect inside, but the moment you stepped through the door, you knew one thing:

you weren’t leaving untouched.

wanda took your bag before you could even offer it. she placed it carefully on the side table, then turned to face you—eyes dark, soft, unreadable.

“you okay?”

the question wasn’t teasing. it was careful. real. and it almost made your heart feel warm.

you nodded, too fast. then caught yourself. “yeah. just… nervous.”

her mouth quirked. “good.”

she reached up slowly, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding your chin so you couldn’t look away. her touch was gentle. grounding. but there was steel underneath it.

“you’re still warm from earlier,” she murmured. “you liked the way it felt, didn’t you?”

your mouth went dry. you nodded again, slower this time. your eyes never leaving hers.

wanda’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. not fully. instead, her fingers slid from your jaw down the column of your throat, feather-light, barely there. you shivered.

“you were such a good girl,” she whispered. “kept it together all day, even with everyone watching. you didn’t fall apart. not once.”

your breath caught, biting your bottom lip at the praises she was showering you with. her eyes never left yours. she noticed the twinkle in your eye that comes with the things she says.

and she absolutely loved it.

“but you wanted to.”

your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard. “yes,” you said, barely audible.

her eyes gleamed.

“and now?”

you couldn’t speak. you just waited. it was all you could do.

she stepped in, closer, until your knees brushed. her hand ghosted along your waist, then slid to the small of your back—warm, steady, controlling. you could feel the pulse of her magic again, just beneath the surface. not touching you yet, but waiting. coiled.

“now,” she said softly, “i think you deserve to come undone, baby.”

you let out a shaky breath. her fingers traced your spine, then dipped under your shirt, just enough to make you tremble.

“will you let me do that for you?” wanda asked. “will you let mommy take care of you?”

the word hit you like a wave—hot and shameful and needy all at once. your knees weakened. you felt yourself almost melting like putty under her gaze.

“yes,” you whispered. “please.”

and this time, she smiled.

genuine. hungry. pleased.

her hand slid lower, and the hum of magic curled around your thighs, coaxing, teasing, patient. her other hand cradled your cheek again—grounding you even as the rest of you began to float.

“my sweet girl,” she murmured.

and then she kissed you, slow and claiming. while the world fell away around you.

a whine almost falls from your lips when she pulled away, and she noticed, giggling slightly. she slid her hand effortlessly into yours, leading you gently up the spiral stairs of her home and into what you assumed was the master bedroom.

you followed like a lost puppy. truth is, you definitely were. when it came to her, at least.

she closed the door behind her, turning to face you once again.

"get on the bed, would you darling?"

you moved without a second thought, without any questions to the king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

wanda watched as you made yourself comfortable on her bed. she loved how shy you looked. how you didn't know how to act. most importantly, she loved how you listened to her like the good girl you are.

she strutted towards you, a sweet, almost menacing smile on her face. she pushed you slowly so you were lying down on the fluffy pillows, wanda hovering over you slightly.

your hands clutched the sheets slightly as wanda leaned into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“god, you smell heavenly,” she whispered against your skin, lips barely brushing your throat.

your breath hitched.

you didn’t respond. couldn’t. not with the way her body hovered just above yours, warmth radiating through the space between you like a second skin. your fingers twisted tighter into the sheets.

wanda chuckled softly, breath fanning over your collarbone. “you always this quiet, sweet girl? or just when i make you feel like this?”

you whimpered, soft and involuntary. wanda smiled like she’d won a prize.

her fingers trailed down your side, light enough to make you squirm. not ticklish, just unbearably gentle. deliberate.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” she murmured, pressing the softest kiss to the base of your neck. “looking at me with those wide eyes all day. like you don’t know how good you’ve been. like you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to reward you.”

your body arched slightly without meaning to, aching toward her, aching for more.

wanda pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her hand resting over your heart like she could feel every erratic beat.

“tell me something,” she whispered, voice low and velvet. “if i asked you to beg, would you?”

your lips parted. you didn’t trust your voice, but you nodded.

wanda’s smile deepened. pleased. powerful.

“good girl.”

and then, just like before, you felt it—a pulse of warmth, invisible and undeniable, curling around your thighs like a promise.

wanda’s lips found your neck again, slower this time. deliberate. not just kissing, but claiming — the kind of kiss that left heat blooming across your skin and your mind empty of anything but her.

her hands worked effortlessly to undress you, leaving you bare in your baby pink lace set underneath her. did you wear this today in hopes that wanda would somehow end up seeing them? oh definitely.

"so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

you felt your cheeks burn at the compliment, a whine leaving your system at the warm sensation of her lips on your skin.

till last week, you've only felt the warmth of her magic. you never realised how much you craved her touch.

you felt wanda hum against the skin of your neck, somewhat in approval. "i love hearing you, baby."

and that itself spurred you on. something in you craved for her validation, her praises. at this point you were willing to do anything that pleased her.

and wanda knew that. she knew that from the start.

you let out little, shallow breaths as you felt her fingers trailing slowly up your thigh, her touch featherlight. you gasped as her power suddenly pulsed again—hot and deliberate, wrapping around your inner thighs like invisible hands. your hips lifted, desperate for more friction.

wanda chuckled.

her hand came to rest on your chest, pushing you gently back into the mattress when you arched again.

"beg."

your breath hitched. your voice was barely a whisper. “please, mommy.”

she grinned. "there's my sweet girl."

your hands were itching to touch her, in any way possible. but you knew better to. you clutched the sheets tighter into your fists as wanda leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat—wet, hot, claiming.

her hand slid under your shirt, nails scratching lightly over your stomach. “you’ll say whatever I want, won’t you? you’ll spread your legs, moan for me, cry if I tell you to.”

you whimpered as your hips thrusted into nothing, the words punching through you like lightning.

her magic tightened in response, like hands gripping your thighs, forcing them open wider and keeping your hips in place.

“you’re already soaked, aren’t you? just from the way I talk to you. you need my fingers inside you so fucking bad it hurts.”

all you could do was to nod frantically at every word that comes out of her mouth.

"yes, yes, please–" you choked on your own words, almost sobbing at the immense need you have for her touch, "i need you so bad, mommy, please."

wanda clicked her tongue, her facial expressions however, showing a glimpse of pride. pride for the state that you were in, for her.

her hand moved lower, finally touching over the heat between your legs, palm firm and unrelenting. you gasped, hips jerking, but she held you still with her magic.

"don't move, my love."

you bit your lip, almost drawing blood, the restraint only making it worse—better.

her fingers dragged over the fabric, slow and precise. “you’re lucky I like my girls messy,” she said, voice low and dangerous.

you felt her fingers dragging through your folds, slick and deliberate. wanda hummed at how wet you already were, then slapped your pussy with the same fingers, sharp and precise.

you cried out, body jolting. but her magic held you down.

“fuck, you liked that, baby?" wanda teased, pressing her fingers back in, circling your clit just once, just barely. “gonna cum just from a little slap, hmm? that desperate already?”

you whimpered again, barely coherent. “please, please, i need—”

she cut you off with a low chuckle, slipping two fingers inside you in one smooth push.

your whole body arched, your mouth falling open in a silent scream at the sudden intrusion.

wanda’s gaze stayed locked on your face as she began to fuck you with her fingers, slow and deep. her palm pressed against your clit, not moving, just grounding. cruel in its stillness.

wanda chuckled, almost in amusement, “oh baby, you’re clenching so tight. like your little pussy’s trying to keep me in.”

she twisted her wrist, changing the angle just enough to make you let out a sob.

“you were made for this, weren’t you?” she whispered, breath hot against your ear. “for my fingers. for my voice. you were made for me.”

you nodded, babbling something between yes and more and please—your mind unraveling almost as fast as your body.

wanda pumped her fingers in steady, hard thrusts that sent your eyes rolling back, your nails digging into your palm in futile attempt of grounding yourself.

"oh my god, fuck– please–" you sobbed in between choked moans, your hands finally flying around her neck to pull her in.

your lips met in a hungry kiss, wanda smiling into it as you moaned against her lips. she pulled away just slightly to look at you, her lips meeting the skin of your jawline.

“mm, you wanna cum for mommy, baby?” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear as you felt her fingers picking up speed.

you nodded. you could barely think, barely speak.

“oh my pretty girl.. so close. so ruined. and you’re going to stay right here for me," wanda breathed, fingers still steady, still deep.

you whined. your body was trembling beneath her, thighs shaking with the force of everything she’d pulled from you, everything she kept pulling.

“i want to hear it,” she said, leaning in so close her lips brushed your jaw. “tell mommy how badly you want to cum.”

you whimpered, half-mad. “please, mommy—i'll do anything, i'll be good, i swear—i just—i need it—”

wanda smiled.

“god, you're just so good for me, aren't you?”

she paused for just a beat, savoring it.

and then, gave it to you. exactly what you needed. magic and fingers and words crashing over you all at once, forcing the orgasm out of you like it had been ripped from your chest.

you screamed—wordless, breathless, wrecked—shaking under her grip as pleasure tore through you in waves.

your hands twisted in the sheets—fists clenched like you could anchor yourself to the bed, to something. but nothing grounded you.

not even the sheets. not even her voice. not when her fingers were still inside you, coaxing and punishing at the same time.

you were past the point of dignity, past the point of caring how you sounded, how your hips rolled up into her palm despite your body’s desperate twitching. you sobbed– an honest, cracked sound ripped from your chest, and wanda moaned in response.

“that's it, baby” she whispered, voice thick with approval.

“my sweet, sweet girl."

[heartsforjh]

The Little Girl

recommended you read the other parts before this one <3

main masterlist | au masterlist

“Mom! Hey, Mom!” Quinn yells, running while waving the picture in the air. 

Ellen’s head snaps over to her son, worried that something is wrong. “Yes, Quinn?” 

“Can I go play with my friend?” he asks, a big smile that she’s never seen before plastered on his face. 

She’s very confused. If he wanted to play with a friend from the rink– he should just do it? “Um… I don’t see why not. Where did this friend come from?” 

“I just made her. She’s so great, and sweet, and nice. And, I mean play in her house, Mom,” he clarifies. This catches the attention of his two brothers. 

“A she?” Luke asks with a cheeky smile, getting in Quinn’s face. 

Quinn lightly pushes on Luke’s chest, causing him to fall back on his butt and right into the snow. “Yes, she’s a she.” 

“Let’s be nice,” Ellen warns all of them before looking back to her eldest. “I don’t know, hon. I think we should just play with this friend outside.” 

“She can’t come outside! She’ll get sick!” he says, exasperated, as if this was common knowledge. 

Jack’s brows furrow. “Why not? She could just wear a coat!” 

“That’s what I said. Apparently not, though. I just said it’s okay anyways. She only gets to watch everyone skate. I want to go inside so she has a friend to play with,” Quinn explains. 

Luke, finally off of the ground, chimes in again. “Is that a picture of her you have?!” 

All Quinn does is smile, hugging the picture against his chest. This intrigues Ellen. She sticks her hand out for the picture, and Quinn gives it to her. 

“Aren’t you scared of dad finding out? If he hears that you were playing instead of practicing, he’ll sell your gear for sure,” Jack asks, concerned for his brother. 

Quinn sighs, Jack’s got a point. “Well, we just won’t tell him. Besides, I’m sure I’ve done enough for today anyways.” 

“She’s darling,” Ellen says with a smile and that’s enough for Luke to nosily go see the little girl. 

He immediately laughs. “She’s little!” 

“So are you!” Jack retorts, knocking Luke down for the second time now. “Let me see her, please.” 

Jack gently takes the picture when his mom hands it to him and smiles. “Oooh… so pretty.” 

“I know! She’s my friend!” Quinn says, snatching the picture from his brother and looking back down at it. “So, mom? Can I go?” 

Ellen is about to answer, expressing her remaining uncertainty, but lucky for Quinn,  Luke pops back up and pushes Jack, starting a fight. 

“I’m not small!” 

“You’re the smallest one out of all of us!” 

“I’m still growing!” 

“We are too!”

Bickering, bickering, and more bickering. That’s all you can hear. Well, that and the sounds of their fists hitting each other with their mom yelling at them to cut it out. 

“Uhhh… sure, Quinn! Go. Go have fun, but I’m coming to get you in a few minutes!” she answers, occupied with prying Luke’s teeth from a screaming and flailing Jack.  Quinn slips the picture of Y/n into his mom’s purse and takes off towards her home, thinking about how he’s never been more thankful for his brother’s stupidity.

PLEASE BE SURE TO UPDATE YOUR TAGLIST SUBMISSION IF YOU"D LIKE TO KEEP GETTING TAGGED FOR THIS AU! THANK YOU! :)

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[rafesorchid]

Hi angel!! Maybe you could a do a fic of ditzy and rafe, and ditzy does something and rafe accidentally makes her feel dumb and hurts her feelings!!

: ̗̀➛ falling short

i dunno how to feel abt this one..but enjoy! <3

it’s a quiet saturday afternoon, but the tension in the air is thick. you’re sittin’ on the couch, scrolling through your phone, pretending you’re lost in whatever nonsense the internet’s showing you. but it’s hard to focus when rafe’s been so distant the last few days. you can’t quite figure it out—he’s been so on edge, snappy even, and you can tell it’s not about you, but every time you try to bring it up, he shuts it down.

you don’t know what’s been goin’ on with him, but the worry has started to eat away at you. you want to talk to him, but you’re scared. every time you open your mouth, he looks at you like you’re addin’ to his stress, not helpin’ it.

today, though, you decide to push it. you can’t stand the silence anymore, the walls growing higher between you. it’s like you’re right here, but still so far away. you glance over at him, where he’s leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed as he stirs a cup of coffee. something in his posture, the way he holds himself, is off. so you clear your throat, trying to catch his attention.

“rafe?” you ask softly, but it’s the wrong time. his head jerks up, his eyes flashing irritation.

“what?” he snaps, more harshly than you were expectin’. his voice is sharp, and it stings more than it should. “you need somethin’?”

you blink, thrown off by the tone. he’s never like this, not really. sure, he has his moods, but this is different. this is… mean.

“i—i just wanted to check in,” you start, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “you’ve been actin’ different. i miss you, rafe.”

he clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath before setting the cup down with a little too much force. “i’m fine,” he mutters, his words flat, the anger simmering beneath them. “just tired, okay? work’s been hell. i don’t need you askin’ a million questions.”

you swallow hard, the tightness in your chest pulling you in. “i’m not askin’ to make things harder,” you whisper, trying to make sense of the frustration swirling in the air. “i just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to make sure i’m alright,” rafe snaps, and his voice cuts through you like a knife. you didn’t expect it to go this far, didn’t think he’d really snap at you like that. “you never get it, do you? always askin’ about dumb shit. why don’t you just take a minute and think before you talk for once?”

the words hit like a ton of bricks, and you freeze, heart hammering in your chest. you try to speak, but it feels like your voice is stuck. everything in you crumbles. the worry, the fear—it’s all bubbling to the surface now, like a dam ready to break.

“rafe…” you whisper, but it’s barely a sound. the tears start to build up, but you push them down. you don’t want him to see. you don’t want to be even more of a disappointment.

“you don’t have to be so mean…” you murmur, but your voice is shaky, barely a whisper. “i’m just—i don’t know, i’m just tryin’ to help, rafe.”

he lets out an exasperated breath, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with the whole situation. “you’re always tryin’ to help, but you don’t even know what’s going on half the time” he says, voice low and sharp. “it’s like you’re livin’ in your own world, where everything’s fine and dandy, and i’m the one who has to deal with all the shit. i’m sorry i’m not as perfect as you think i am, but sometimes it’d be nice if you just got it.”

you feel the tears well up before you can stop them, the way his words twist in your chest, pulling at the last thread of confidence you had left. it’s like he’s telling you everything you already feared—that you’re not good enough, that you’re just too much of a mess, too dumb for him.

you turn your head quickly to hide the tears, but they slip down your cheeks anyway. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, “i’m sorry i’m so dumb, rafe. i just… i just don’t know what you want from me. i try so hard, and i always mess up. always.”

rafe’s anger falters for a moment, but the coldness still hangs in the air. he doesn’t step forward. doesn’t reach for you right away. he just stands there, face twisted with frustration, unsure of how to fix what he’s just broken.

“i didn’t mean it like that, okay?” he says after a long pause, voice quieter, but still laced with tension. “i’m just—i’m not mad at you, i’m mad at everything else. work’s been a shitshow, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have.”

you nod, but you don’t move, still wrapped in the sting of his words. he’s sorry, but you don’t know if it’s enough yet. you feel small, stupid for caring so much about what he says, but it’s hard to push away the feeling that maybe he’s right. Maybe you are too much of a mess to keep up.

“i’m just… i don’t know, rafe,” you mumble, wiping at your face. “i try, i do… but i mess up all the time. i’m dumb. i get everything wrong.”

there’s a long silence, and you wait for him to push past this, to make it better. but he doesn’t. he stands there, just watching you, as if he’s trying to figure out how to get back to you. he doesn’t speak for a long while, and it feels like you’re on opposite sides of a huge chasm, too far for him to bridge with just a couple of words.

“baby, please… i’m not sayin’ you’re dumb, okay? i’m not,” rafe says, finally stepping closer, his voice gentler now, like he’s still unsure of how to make things right. “i’m just mad, and i took it out on you. but you’re not dumb. you’re not stupid. i don’t ever want you to think that.”

you look up at him, the hurt still there, but now it’s mixed with confusion. “but you just called me that… like, it’s all i do. mess up. ask questions. forget things. i know you’re tired, and i know i can be… well, a mess, but i just— i just don’t get why it feels like i’m always falling short.”

rafe’s hand shakes slightly as he reaches for you, but when you flinch away, his expression falters. he doesn’t push any further, instead letting the space between you remain. “baby, please, don’t cry. m’sorry,” he says, voice thick with regret. “i shouldn’t have said that. i wasn’t thinkin’ when i snapped. i don’t care about you forgettin’ stuff or askin’ questions. i care about you, and i messed up, okay?”

you don’t respond right away, letting the silence settle over you, the tears continuing to fall, but now they feel different. they feel less like they’re from hurt, more like they’re from confusion, from needing to understand why he would hurt you, why it got this far.

you shake your head slowly. “i don’t know if i can just forget what you said.”

rafe nods, his face creasing with guilt. “i get that. i just need you to know that i never meant to make you feel… small, sweetheart. you’re not. you’re everything to me. i was frustrated and i took it out on you. i promise, you don’t deserve that. not ever.”

there’s another long pause, and you feel like you’re breaking and rebuilding all at once. finally, you take a deep breath, looking at him through blurry eyes. “you sure?” you whisper. “you sure i’m not dumb?”

“i’m sure,” he says, voice low and steady now, and he steps forward, slowly this time, giving you the space you need. “you’re not dumb, baby. you’re perfect the way you are. i love you just as you are, quirks and all.”

you let out a shaky breath, and something in you softens, even though the hurt’s still there, lingering. but it feels different now, not like a deep wound. more like a bruise that just needs a little time to heal.

“i love you too, rafe,” you whisper, finally reaching for him, letting him pull you into his arms. “but you gotta be better. you can’t just call me dumb when i’m tryin’ so hard.”

“i know,” he murmurs, holding you close. “m’sorry, baby. i’ll do better. i swear.”

you nod against his chest, the tension between you starting to melt, slowly but surely. you don’t know if everything’s okay yet, but you know it will be. it’s just gonna take time. it always does.

[alltimecharlo]

hello hello!! i would love a fic of jealous!mack and absolutely smitten will (well thats them in every life but stay with me)

like if mack was jealous of leno?? and leno and will r so confused why mack hates leno and at the end leno says u dumbass will is in love with you and will is like theres no competition in my eyes 😍😍 HAHAHA something like that if u catch my drift hehe

oooo, certainly!!! fic under the cut :)

Mack knows he’s being stupid.

He knows it. He's self-aware enough for that much, at least. But it doesn't stop the sharp, bitter feeling from clawing up his chest every time he sees Leno throw an arm around Will’s shoulders, laughing into his ear like they’re sharing the best secret in the world.

It’s late afternoon, golden light spilling into the BC quad, and everyone’s sprawled across the grass like they’ve got nowhere better to be. Will’s in the middle of it, as always, sun lighting up his messy hair, smiling so big Mack feels winded just looking at him.

And Leno is right there.

Of course.

Mack crosses his arms tighter over his chest, standing a little apart from the group, pretending he's invested in the frisbee game going on behind them.

He isn't.

"Dude," Gabe says, wandering over with a lazy grin, "you look like you're trying to set Leno on fire with your brain."

"Shut up," Mack mutters, because he is and he hates that Gabe can tell.

Gabe snorts, clapping him on the back. "Chill, man. They're like... brothers or something. I don't think Leno even knows how to flirt."

Mack glares at him. "I'm chill."

"Yeah. Sure. The chillest," Gabe says, clearly trying not to laugh as he saunters away.

Across the grass, Leno says something that makes Will laugh, tipping his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, and Mack has to physically restrain himself from marching over there.

He’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Until Will catches his eye and beams, bright and stupidly beautiful, and waves him over.

Mack's legs move on their own.

"Mack!" Will says when he gets close enough, eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s so happy to see him that Mack forgets, for a second, that he’s supposed to be pissed. "Come sit! Leno’s telling that story about the time he almost got arrested for trying to rescue a cat from the library roof."

"It was a daring mission," Leno insists, puffing out his chest.

Will dissolves into laughter again and Mack feels his heart thump traitorously hard.

He flops down next to them, close enough that his knee brushes Will’s, and tries not to look like he’s in physical pain.

Leno grins at him, all easy and friendly. "Yo, Mack. You ever climbed a roof?"

"No," Mack says flatly.

Will nudges him with his elbow, teasing. "You don't know what you're missing."

"I’m good," Mack mutters, staring at the grass.

Will frowns a little, studying him. "You okay?"

"Fine."

Will doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, turning back to Leno with a shrug. They start talking about something else — a party this weekend, maybe — but Mack doesn’t really hear it. His head’s too full of static.

He's so stupid. Will's allowed to have friends. Will's allowed to be close to people. Will’s… not his.

Except —

Mack glances over and catches Will looking at him again, a small crease between his brows like he’s worried.

Later, after the sun dips low and everyone starts to scatter, Mack hangs back, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk.

Leno claps him on the shoulder on his way past. "Good hanging, man!"

Mack grunts something noncommittal.

Will lingers. Of course he does.

"Alright," Will says, coming to stand right in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels a little. "What gives?"

Mack shrugs, suddenly wishing he was anywhere else.

Will tilts his head, studying him. "You’ve been weird all day."

Mack says nothing.

Will raises his eyebrows, waiting.

Before Mack can implode from awkwardness, Leno calls back over his shoulder, "Dude, Will's in love with you."

Mack jerks his head up, staring.

Will looks equally confused. "Huh?"

Leno rolls his eyes, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Yeah, you dumbasses. Will’s totally gone for you."

Will flushes pink, mouth opening and closing helplessly.

Mack’s brain scrambles to catch up, heart slamming against his ribs. "Wait, what?"

Leno just throws up a hand like he's done dealing with them and wanders off.

Will turns back to him, fidgeting, cheeks burning. "I—he’s exaggerating—"

Mack, still reeling, blurts out, "You’re… into me?"

Will laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Kinda hard not to be."

Mack feels like the world has tilted under his feet, like he’s seeing everything in a new, blinding light. Will—Will—looking at him like that, open and fond and terrified.

And suddenly everything, everything, makes sense

Will’s face does something dangerous then — softens, splits into this huge smile that knocks all the air out of Mack’s lungs.

"Mack," Will says, laughing a little, incredulous. He steps closer, close enough that Mack can feel the heat of him. "There’s no competition in my eyes."

Mack blinks at him, brain short-circuiting.

Will just keeps smiling, stupidly fond, and leans in, bumping their foreheads together, gentle and easy and sure.

Mack thinks he might die.

"You’re it for me," Will says, soft like a secret.

Mack breathes out a shaky laugh, dizzy with it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Will says, grinning. "Total dumbass."

Mack’s cheeks hurt from smiling. "Takes one to know one."

Will laughs and kisses him, quick and sweet, and Mack decides he doesn’t mind being a dumbass if it means he gets to keep this forever.

♡

[winchesterwild78]

The Gravity of it All

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Cass, Jack, and Sam

Warnings: language, mentions on death, squint for some smut.

A/N: This takes place between Season 14 and 15. I’ve been rewatching Supernatural and I’ve been thinking about how things would be different if Dean had someone in his life during this time.

This does not follow the Supernatural storyline, but does include some of the story. I do not own the rights to Supernatural or the characters.

This will also be in a few parts.

All work is my own, don’t take it. Please reblog and like. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The bunker was cold. Not the normal chill that lingered in the air, but a bone chilling cold.

After Michael broke loose and killed almost everyone in the bunker, the ones that were left scattered.

I stayed. I stayed for three reasons. One, I had nowhere else to go. Two, since being in this world they had all become my family, and three, most likely the most important reason, Dean.

I was secretly in love with him.

His green eyes always seemed to find me across the room, he taught me how to properly shoot a gun, and our late night chats in his or my room held a special place in my heart.

It started out subtle. A glance here, a wink there. The way his hand brushed against mine and when we had too much to drink his flirting hit an all time high.

When Jack protected all of us and killed Michael, we noticed a subtle shift in his personality. Dean was worried he lost all of his soul.

I rode in the Impala with him as he drove Jack to see Donatello.

Dean and I waited outside.

“Dean, do you really think his soul is completely gone?”

Dean’s eyes flicked to mine, “I’m not sure. I really don’t want it to be true, but Donnie will be able to tell us.”

I nodded and fidgeted. Dean smirked and took my hands in his, pulling me close. “Hey, come here. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything will be fine.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest and not just because of Jack.

Then Dean’s eyes met mine again. Something shifted between us. He placed a soft kiss on my temple.

Jack and Donatello came back out. Jack and I got in the car while Dean and Donatello talked.

Dean glanced back at the car and he looked solemn. Jack was in the backseat talking about the snake and how he’s going to try other foods for him.

I nodded, but my eyes were fixed on Dean.

Dean climbed back in the car and we headed back to the bunker. The ride home was pretty quiet, with the exception of Jack talking about the snake.

Arriving back at the bunker Jack went to his room and Dean went to his. I walked to Dean’s door and softly knocked.

“Come in,” I heard Dean say. He looked up with a smile tugging at his lips, “Hey sweetheart. What brings you in here?”

I offered a soft smile, “I just wanted to check on you and see what Donatello said.” He nodded, “Well he said he thinks Jack has a soul but he’s not sure. He said Jack has a power unlike anyone and to keep an eye on him. So I’m thinking no hunts for him. He can stay here and look up lore.”

“Do you think he’ll go for that?” Dean shrugged, “Maybe. Hell, I hope so.”

I nodded and then lingered at his door. “You okay sweetheart? Is there something else on your mind?”

I nervously bit my lip, “No. Um, I’m okay. Well, good night.”

I turned to leave and Dean stood. His hand on my arm before I could walk away, “Hey, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I nodded. My breath hitched. How could I tell him I was in love with him?

I looked at him and swallowed. I couldn’t tell him how I felt. It would ruin our friendship and that means so much to me, so I lie. “Honestly, I’m just worried about Jack. We’ve seen how he has no control of his powers and now what’s going to happen without a soul? I’m just worried, Dean.”

Dean closed the distance between us and his eyes softened, “I know Y/N. I think we’re all a little worried. But, (his hand touched my cheek) I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

My pulse quickened and my breath hitched. I nodded and smiled.

“Hey Dean. We need to talk.” Sam announced as he walked down the hallway. Dean’s hands dropped and pulled away.

“Dean, you in here? Oh hey, Y/N.” Sam looked between Dean and I.

“Hey Sam, um I’m just leaving. Thanks Dean for the words of encouragement.” He smiled and nodded.

I walked away and let out a shaky breath.

Sam looked at Dean and smirked, “Dude, what was that about?” Dean looked at Sam, “Drop it Sammy.”

Sam shook his head, “Okay, but you know you can be happy, right?”

Dean looked at Sam again with a tense jaw, “I said drop it.” His voice almost growled. “Now what did you need?”

“I found something that might help Jack, but I think Jack should stay here.”

“Give me 5 then. We will talk to him together.” Sam nodded, “What about Y/N? Wanna take her with us?”

Dean looked at Sam and a slight smirk spread on his face, “Yeah, we can take her.”

Dean packed his bag and stopped at my door, “Hey, we’re about to head out. Wanna join?” I looked up from my book and smiled, “Yeah. Let me pack and I’ll be ready.”

He smiled and nodded then left. Sam and Jack were in the war room and Dean joined them. They told Jack to hang back in case any other hunter needed help and to let Mary know what was going on. Jack agreed and the three of us left.

I sat in the backseat with my book. I glanced up and saw Dean looking at me in the mirror. Sam noticed too, shaking his head and smiling.

I looked back down at my book and felt the heat fill my face. Did he know how I felt about him? Did he feel the same way? My head reeled with questions.

A few hours later we pulled into a hotel. Nothing fancy, just your usual roadside motel. Dean put the Impala in park as Sam ran inside to get two rooms.

When he came back he looked defeated, “hey Y/N, they didn’t have two rooms so you’ll have to bunk with us.”

“It’s okay Sam. I don’t mind. It’s not like we haven’t shared a room before.”

He nodded and opened my door for me. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder as Dean opened the door. There were two queen beds and a sofa. Dean placed his stuff on the bed closest to the door, “You can have that bed, sweetheart.” My eyes met his and I nodded. Hearing him call me sweetheart sent a shiver down my spine.

I sat my bag on the empty bed and sat on the edge.

Later that evening Sam ran into town to get food, beer and pie. Dean and I stayed behind. There was a silence that filled the room I couldn’t quite figure out how to fill.

Dean was sitting at the table by the window looking at some lore. I stood, stretched and grabbed my clothes for a shower. “Hey, um, Dean? I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick.”

Dean’s emerald eyes landed on mine and a smile twitched at his cheek. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting.” My bottom lip instinctively went into my mouth. I bit hard, trying to keep my feelings in check. Damn he was making it hard.

I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I turned on the water and took my clothes off. Then I realized I dropped my panties. Shit! Where did I drop them?

I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. As I swung open the door Dean was standing there grinning with my panties hanging from his finger. His smirk stretched to his eyes, “Drop something?” My face flushed red, “Yeah, um I’m sorry.”

He stepped closer, “Don’t be. It’s not everyday I get to see your blue lacy panties.” I tried to hide my face. The embarrassment was too much. I grabbed at my panties and he pulled them back, laughing. My body collided with his solid frame. His strong calloused hands gripped me. My breath hitched.

“Dean…I.” My voice barely a whisper. He stepped even closer, my heart pounding in my chest, “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was deep and almost primal.

I couldn’t speak, the words caught in my throat. I just shook my head no. His hand cupped my face, lifting it up to him and his soft, plump lips ghosted mine. “You sure about this, Y/N?” “Yes,” I whispered.

His lips pressed softly to mine and I melted into his arms. The sound of the water running behind me faded. All I could hear now was the drumming of my heart.

The kiss was everything and then some. It was too much and not enough at the same time. My body reacted to his lips and touch in ways it never had with anyone before. I felt the slick running down my thigh.

I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it. His hands ran up my body. The thin white towel that separated my naked body from his did nothing to keep me from feeling his arousal. My body was on fire.

Dean’s hands slid down my sides and to the hem of the towel. His fingers lightly pressed against my thigh and danced their way up. My breathing became faster and full of want.

I wanted him and I could tell he wanted me. Nothing was going to stop what was about to happen. My mind exploded with the possibilities and as Dean’s fingers found their way under the towel, I saw his green eyes darkened with lust.

His fingers found their way to my folds and as he slipped his fingers in, feeling my arousal, the room door swung open and Sam came in.

I pulled away quickly disappearing into the bathroom as Dean growled. “Dammit Sammy!”

“Sorry Dean. I didn’t think I’d be walking into whatever that was.” He chuckled as he sat the food down.

I stood in the bathroom trying to steady my breath. I just crossed a line with Dean. Did it mean something to him? Was it just a means to an end for him? My head spun with all my thoughts. I climbed in the shower and tried to focus on getting clean, but all I could think about was his lips, hands and how his fingers felt.

“Sammy, you have the worst timing, you know that?” Dean sat and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Dean, if you had been honest with her before now you two would be together. Look, I get it. It’s hard to open yourself up, but Dean she’s a great girl and a hell of a hunter. I’ll go for a drive and be back in an hour. Talk to her!”

Sam grabbed the keys and headed to the door, “And Dean, don’t screw this up.”

Sam left and Dean stood in the middle of the room weighing his options. He was determined to tell you how he felt about you.

Dean heard the shower turn off and he took a deep breath. Sitting on his bed he faced the bathroom.

A few minutes later I came out with a rush of steam enveloping me. My eyes met Dean’s and I noticed Sam was gone.

Dean’s eyes raked over my body. Damn she’s gorgeous. Fuck! Look at her perky nipples pushing the shirt out. Dean licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Hey, sweetheart. Can we talk?”

I nodded, grabbing my hairbrush and I sat on my bed facing him. As he talked I brushed my hair.

“Look, that was, well, amazing. If Sammy hadn’t walked in, I know where I wanted it to go. But I think we need to talk before we jump into bed together.”

I looked stunned. “I…agree.” My voice was smaller than I expected. I felt a twinge of sadness, almost like rejection.

Dean noticed and shifted towards me, “Y/N, I like you. I mean I really like you. If I’m being honest I’ve liked you since you came over from apocalypse world. You’re kind, generous, gorgeous and a badass hunter. I’d like to see where this leads. If you’re willing to.”

I blinked, not believing what I was hearing. The silence between us grew. I was in shock. Dean shifted. I took a deep breath, “Yeah I’d like that. More than you know. Dean, I’ve liked you since I first laid eyes on you in my world. You’re strong, kind, sexy as hell and the best damn hunter I’ve ever seen. You protect those around you without a second thought. You’re the kind of man who deserves everything good in life.”

Dean didn’t say anything, he just stood, pulled me up and placed a kiss on my lips. When we pulled away my face was crimson red. He chuckled, “Now where were we?”

Part 2…coming soon

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[mj-iza-writer]

This was requested by @weirdthingweee they were previously very sick, so they requested this. I am happy to report that they seem to be back in full health. I hope they enjoy this story 😊

"Whumpee, are you still up?", Caretaker knocked gently on the door as they quietly peaked in.

Whumpee's arms wrapped under their chin as a pillow as they rested their head on the desk.

"My poor Whumpee, this test has wore you out", Caretaker sighed as they looked over the stack of books surrounding Whumpee, "you worry me."

Whumpee made a disturbed snore before looking up.

"Извини (sorry)", Whumpee blinked slowly, "у меня сильная мигрень (I have a terrible headache)."

"And you're not feeling well either, or starting to not feel well", Caretaker sighed.

"How can you tell?", Whumpee sighed tiredly.

"You started speaking in Russian... always a good sign that something is coming", Caretaker closed one of the books, "plus, I did warn you about staying up late to study. You're only stressing your body out more. Your immune system is getting compromised."

"I'm sorry", Whumpee whispered.

"Come on, let's go to bed. The books can wait for a little while", Caretaker helped Whumpee up from the chair.

"Caretaker....he... По.. Помощь (help)!"

Caretaker was already jumping from their bed. One thing with Whumpee is that they puke very loudly.

"I'm here... I'm here", Caretaker hurried into the bathroom.

"It... mmm, I barely made it to the toilet", Whumpee groaned, "I don't feel good at all."

"I can see that", Caretaker nodded, "do you have any more coming out."

Whumpee nodded and quickly turned to throw up again. They gasped for air as they looked back up at Caretaker.

Caretaker reached for a washcloth and wiped Whumpee's face when they had finished.

"I... don't... feel... good", Whumpee struggled.

It was a long night for both of them. Whumpee ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor. The cold tile felt good on their feverish skin. Caretaker leaned up against the wall, just outside of the bathroom.

Whumpee struggled to their desk.

"Куда ты идешь? (where are you going?)", Caretaker followed them.

"Uhm... Изучение? (Studying)", Whumpee questioned.

"You just spent half the night throwing up; you are going to bed", Caretaker pointed to the bed.

"The test?", Whumpee whimpered.

"Whumpee.... bed", Caretaker said sternly.

Whumpee whined but slowly went to the bed.

"I'm doing this for your own good Whumpee", Caretaker pulled the blankets aside, "trust me."

Whumpee nodded as they settled in, "I'm just.... this test is.... I'm not ready for this."

"I know", Caretaker gently petted Whumpee's sweaty hair, "but we have to worry about your health too. Let me take care of you."

Whumpee nodded.

Whumpee moaned when Caretaker came in.

"Is it getting worse?", Caretaker set a bowl down.

"Mmm-yhmmm", Whumpee looked up slowly, "you don't expect me to eat right now, do you?"

"I do, even just a few bites. You have an empty stomach right now, and the medicine I have for you will make you feel worse if you take it without food", Caretaker sat on the side of the bed, "I made you white rice with chicken broth mixed in. Just a few bites, but eat as much as you like. I also ordered ginger ale to help your nausea."

Whumpee pouted, "I don't want to move. Moving makes it worse."

"You can eat like this", Caretaker reached for the bowl, "come on, the sooner you get better, the sooner you can get back to the books."

"That sounds just as miserable", Whumpee mumbled.

Caretaker scooped up some rice and held it in front of Whumpee's mouth.

"Mmm", Whumpee grumbled as they took a bite.

"Good job" Caretaker praised them.

Whumpee perked up with the praise and willingly took another bite.

"Good job" Caretaker smiled

Whumpee sighed, "can I have a drink?"

Caretaker reached for the cup and held it for Whumpee to drink.

"You were thirsty", Caretaker smiled as they watched the cup empty, "I'll get you more ginger ale if you like. It looks like you need water as well."

Whumpee nodded, "can I at least look at my notes while I lay here. I'll probably fall asleep within a few minutes. I want to feel like I'm doing something, at least."

"I'll let you", Caretaker stood, "let's take some medicine, and a few more bites of this. I'll leave you to it."

Whumpee looked up from their notes when Caretaker came back in.

"More ginger ale and water for my sick Whumpee", Caretaker smiled.

"Спасибо (thanks)", Whumpee blinked slowly.

"You're getting sleepy again", Caretaker started to reach for the notes, "you need to rest. Отдыхать (sleep)."

"I know, this is the worst time to get sick", Whumpee didn't fight as the papers were pulled from their fingers.

"I know, and I'm sorry", Caretaker whispers as Whumpee's eyes grow more tired, "I'll get you to feeling better before you know it. Then you can go ace your exam like I know you will."

Whumpee smiled weakly, "you have a lot of faith in me", they whispered.

"Of course I do", Caretaker petted Whumpee's hair before setting a cool damp cloth on Whumpee's forehead.

Whumpee moaned in relief.

"I'm about to go to sleep", Whumpee sighed.

"I can see that", Caretaker smiled, "get some rest... you deserve it. Спокойной ночи (good night)."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

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[theseinfernalangels]

hey ! i’d love it if you could do prompt #28 with sawyer !!!!

28: One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

A/N: Funny story — I have two people who asked for this. Thank you, anons! I audibly giggled writing this. Warning for suggestiveness.

The first thing you register is a low humming noise next to your head. It’s quiet, husky, and almost absentminded, the tune almost unrecognizable in the haze that clouds your tired mind. 

The second? A light but solid pressure circling your lips, like someone was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth solely with their fingernails.

That, you realize, is precisely what it is. With a breathy sigh, your eyes squeeze together before you open them blearily. Usually, you need a moment or two to adjust since you usually sleep facing the window — but then, you realize, it’s not morning. It’s pitch black outside, which means you haven’t been asleep for long. Then, they drift to the sight in front of you — one that makes your breath hitch instantly.

Sawyer lays on his side, one arm under his head while the other continues to trace the perimeter of your mouth. You can’t see him too well, but you can make out the line of his shoulders against the faint light from the window, as well as a blurry silhouette of curls against the headboard. Even in the dark, he looks sweet as can be. Without thinking, you pucker your lips in an almost-kiss against his finger.

The humming stops abruptly, replaced by a light shifting in the sheets. His voice, soft with exhaustion, falls upon your ears like a lullaby. “Did I wake you up?”

You smile a little, nuzzling closer to him. “No,” you whisper. “I was close enough to being awake, anyway. How was your watch?”

You feel him lean in a bit closer to press a kiss to your hairline, his finger restarting its previous motions. “It was fine. Boring, but fine.” He pauses again to flick his wrist, summoning a mage light that emits a light pink glow. Now, you can finally see your lover, although the light is a bit dim — probably for your sake. 

You hum thoughtfully as he once again starts tracing your lips. “That’s good. A boring shift is better than absolute chaos.” You take a moment to drink his image in, although you do that pretty much all the time, anyway. His hair is a bit mussed up, and his freckled face screams that he wants nothing more than to sleep, but you know he’d rather go a week without sleep than miss out on talking to you, so you decide not to say anything for the time being.

“I’d welcome it.” Sawyer adjusts his position next to you. “It’s not like I have much to do on my agenda anyway, besides putting my shit away and then seeing you.”

You frown a little, blinking up at him sleepily. “You don’t have to come if you’re tired, baby. You deserve the rest. I know you picked up extra training time to help the first-years.”

“What I deserve,” he murmurs, his finger pressing a little more into your skin, “is to see my favorite girl, in my favorite place, at my favorite time of day —which is what I’m getting right now. Don’t worry about me. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

You can’t help the tired grin that spreads across your face as his words paint your cheeks red, hidden in the glow of the mage light. You didn’t know how you’d gotten so lucky to have Sawyer tumble into your life, but you’re filled with so much joy that you couldn’t even start to question it. Perhaps you should start praying to Zihnal again. 

“Careful,” you giggle. “I’m starting to think you might be in love with me, or something.”

He chuckles quietly, his eyes never leaving yours as his finger trails away to hook under your chin. “Or something.”

You both watch each other for a few moments, his green-lit gaze illuminated in the faint glow behind him. Your breathing picks up a little when his eyes dip to your lips and back up, silently asking for something you know he wants more than anything.

“Sawyer?” You ask, tilting your head up slightly. His eyes go half-lidded, the finger under your chin twitching ever so slightly.

“Yes, darling?”

“What time is it?”

He tilts his head in thought. “I’d say around midnight. Why?”

You go quiet for a moment. “How early do we have to be up tomorrow?”

He blinks before a daring little smile starts tugging at his lips, one that only shows when he thinks of something mischievous. “Depends on how close you want to cut it,” he says, his voice lowering a bit. “Normal time if we call it quits now. Maybe half an hour later, if you’re really daring.”

Something sly glimmers in his eyes as he lowers himself to face you, nose-to-nose. “You wanna be daring tonight, huh?”

His voice so close to your ear sends a chill of excitement down your neck, the shyness you usually hold giving way to pure want. You let him tug you a little bit closer before you reply. 

“Light me up, Sawyer Henrick.”

He doesn’t wait a second more to slam his lips on to yours, pulling you into him and consuming you in erupting flames of pure desire. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and then tug lightly, eliciting a breathy whine from your throat. It’s a game of Give, Give, Give and Take, Take, Take, but tucked away in the safety of your room, with no one but you, Sawyer, and a mage light, you’d be willing to give everything to him if he asked.

Your hands rise and curl around his shoulders, anchoring you to him as he tilts his head again to kiss you deeper, his hand leaving your chin to brace against the back of your neck gently. His soft-but-bitten lips work magic against yours, tugging and sucking and pressing deeper with every moment you’re held against him. Your lungs burn a little, but you can’t find it in you to care as his free hand finds the small of your back, pushing you all the closer to his warmth.

You’re forced to pull away after what feels like forever, your chests simultaneously heaving from the lack of air. He presses his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for what you know is reciprocated wanting.

“Was that…?” He takes another second to breathe, his swollen lips trying to find words to ask you when he goes absolutely mindless around you.

It’s your turn to grab his face, pulling back down to yours. “Kiss me again,” you demand breathlessly, “or I’ll fall sleep without you.”

And, as always, Sawyer obliges.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Twisted Kaijuland Prologue (2025 Rewrite)

AT LAAAAAST!!!! I have finally completed the rewrite of an AU I've been wanting to work more on, but I'd lost interest in the direction it was going at the time. Now I feel more saatisfied with this and hope to continue sharing these ideas with everyone!

Note: there are LOTS of changes to how the story originally started, so please keep that in mind as I work to continue figuring out more and more of this AU and how everyone works. That means some (aka a good chunk of) scenes and scenarios will be completely different from before, mainly to make it flow and make better sense compared to my other AUs. But I will be keeping up the originals, so don't worry!

Also random, but I believe this version is much longer than the original prologue was! 😂 Hope you all enjoy this retelling! And I will be uploading this on AO3 as well!

WARNING: Minor and explicit language (cursing) and blood mention. Going forward there's a possibility of there being more blood given the nature of the kaiju, but I'll be sure to properly warn when those do pop up. Meanwhile, most of the storytelling in the beginning will be Yuu exploring the island and getting to interact with each of the kaiju packs!

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

Prologue: Found Astray in a New World

Beep……

Beep……

Beep……

Bwoop…

The steady beeps rang in Yuu’s ears as they drifted in and out of consciousness, lulled by the rush of crashing ocean waves that coaxed them to fall back to sleep. Yet the discomfort they felt on their back as the heat of the sun pulled their mind back to the surface, tempered by the cool breeze filled with the smell of sea salt. A pained groan escaped as they forced their body up, sand clinging to their damp skin as they stared through the haze at their surroundings in the faint morning light on the horizon. ‘W…where…am I?’ they thought, panic slowly creeping in as they realized they didn’t recognize anything. ‘Huh?? Where-? What-?? How did I get here? Why can’t I-!’

A sharp pain hit as they groaned, clutching their head and hissing as they waited for it to pass.

“Why…can’t I remember?” they uttered aloud, their voice cracking a little from thirst.

Yuu sat in silence as they waited, hoping that the headache would pass quickly while trying to sort through their clouded thoughts. Fragments of memories—of shapes and sounds so unrecognizable they couldn’t be real—scattered no matter how hard they focused. And yet while those memories eluded them…some were too nightmarish to be forgotten.

Long, narrow faces with gaunt skin and fangs sharper than needles, maws and pores oozing a viscous black ichor that stained and burned the ground it touched.

Sharp, wicked claws attached to long, gangly arms that pulled and dragged the bloated and serpentine bodies across the ground at inhuman speeds.

Flashes of teeth so close to their face they could smell the rot of its breath.

‘These are just nightmares,’ they thought to themselves, taking a deep breath to try and ease the fear clutching their chest in a vice. ‘They’re not real—they’re just fragments of bad dreams from my memories!’

Memories you don’t have, a small, nagging voice in the back of their mind chided them. You don’t know where you are. You’re lost and alone…do you even remember who you are? Who you’re supposed to be?

BEEEEEEEEEP!!

“Wah!?” they yelped as they fell backwards into the sand, staring at the source with wide eyes. Around their ankle—glinting in the sunlight like a beacon—was a metal band. A cursory glance revealed a near-invisible seam, a soft red light blinking erratically like it was seeking…something. “What is this thing?” they uttered, reaching down to try and pry it off. It refused to budge, tight enough prevent it from being slipped off yet loose enough to wriggle a finger underneath. Whoever made this ensured there was soft material underneath, keeping the metal from rubbing against their skin.

Confused and frustrated, they turned their attention back to their current situation: finding out where they were, getting help, and finding a source of food and water. Knowing which of the three would be easiest to achieve, they began walking along the beach to find a fruit-bearing tree towards the strangely shaped rocks.

The sand was soft beneath their bare feet, Yuu taking note of their attire and realizing they were wearing long gray pants and a strangely designed long-sleeved top. They noticed what looked like a faded black symbol resembling an upside-down triangle with a boat-like shape. Around their neck they felt an odd band, though what it was they couldn’t tell—though at least it didn’t seem to be restricting their breathing.

“What is even happening to me?” they uttered, feeling around for any injuries they hadn’t noticed. There were no bumps, no tender spots, no cuts or scratches…nothing to explain the massive gap in their memories. “If this is some sort of prank, I-“

Thunk!

“Yeow!” Hopping on one foot, Yuu hissed and glared at the rock…before realizing it was too reflective and shiny to be one. Cautiously, they started digging around the object, taking care to avoid the sharp edges. More and more was uncovered as they dug, shoveling sand away until they finally managed to make out something. The same marking as the one on their top, only…different somehow. Like someone had tried to alter it to appear more monstrous or dangerous. “What in the…world,” they uttered, finally looking up and staring at in shock and horror.

As the sun rose higher, the light revealed more and more that the strangely shaped rocks they’d seen weren’t made of stone. Twisted and mangled, Yuu found themselves staring at a massive graveyard of ships and planes. As far as the eye could see it stretched, creating a maze of metal corpses jutting out of the sand like the bones of a monstrous creature. Warily they ventured forth, watching their step and avoiding the jagged metal pieces that reached out like lost souls seeking to drag them down into the sand. Slowly they began to notice other materials in the mix, hulls of wooden ships rotting away yet somehow maintaining some semblance of their shape.

Peering inside one of the ships, they spotted a scores of barrels and crates—some broken revealing their contents. Furs, herbs, spices, cloth…all relatively in decent condition, if worn down by time and scavenging critters. In the corner, they noticed a large coffer of coins and jewels—completely untouched.

“What did all of this?” they muttered aloud, taking a closer look around at the condition of the ships and planes. As the sunlight revealed more and more, so too did they notice the full extent of the damage. Some bore gashes along the sides—some a singular line while others bore more than one in a row. Some were warped with chunks dripping like frozen droplets, as though something corrosive had burned through the metal and cooled in an instant. Others…

Others were impaled with black crystals.

They felt ill as they approached one of the crystals, a dark, noxious green light pulsing within that seemed to grow brighter as they moved closer. Wisps of eerie gray mist slowly cascaded down from the stones, where they could see a pool of inky ichor at the base of the plane’s frame. For a brief moment, they thought they heard…whispers coming from within.

Stay away!, their mind seemed to scream even as their body crept forward. Danger! Evil! Vile! Beautif-

In an instant they stopped, quickly backing away before they could touch the tip of the crystal and collapsing with a wheeze. “What was that?” they uttered, shaking their head. They stared up at the crystal, only to avert their gaze once more when they felt the strange pull again. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t natural and it wasn’t safe. Climbing to their feet, they decided it was time to leave the ship graveyard and continue their search for food and shelter. “This place will be a last resort,” they uttered, shivering as they moved away from the inky black crystals.

The sun was steadily rising now as they continued their search, somehow managing to escape the giant metal deathtrap maze and into a wide clearing. Up ahead they could see a jungle tree line, immediately recognizing the cluster of yellow at the top of one of the trees. Relieved to have found a food source, they ran as fast as they could towards the trees. As they grew closer and closer, however, their excitement turned to confusion as they slowed to a trot. Still the trunks of the trees continued to grow bigger, dwarfing Yuu as they stopped and stared up in horror at the sight of the trees looming over them like towers.

“What the hell is going on,” they uttered, slowly turning in a circle as they realized just how small they were compared to the foliage. Plants that should have come up to their waist or shoulders were large enough to form a canopy, shielding them from the steadily growing harsh sunlight. Trees that should have been easily 15-20 feet tall were easily three times that height, fruit that should have been easy to pluck and gather now swayed threateningly like a boulder ready to be dropped.

Buzzing overhead caught their attention as they looked up, pure terror filling their veins as they saw what could only be described as a giant dragonfly-like creature flitting about. It hovered close to a flower, the downdraft of its wings buffeting Yuu with strong winds as it landed on a petal—and disappearing the moment the flower snapped shut around its body, clamping down like a vice as it struggled to escape.

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope!” was all Yuu managed to say before they scurried away, not wanting to find out if anything else had a taste for flesh. “Giant food is one thing, but I draw the line at man-eating plants!”

Giant food, giant bugs, giant plants, a deserted island, and an entire graveyard of ships and planes? This had to be a fever dream or a nightmare of epic proportions! Yet it was getting harder and harder to find logic in anything they were seeing. None of this should even be possible, and yet…here they were, stranded in the middle of nowhere with no idea of who they were, how they got here, or even why they were here. And if the insects and plants were enormous, what else was even bigger than them? They didn’t even know if there were any other survivors out the-

‘Get a grip, Yuu!’ they thought, managing to stick close to the edge of the jungle on their right and keeping the shore on their left side. ‘Panicking won’t help anything, and you need to stay focused. Food will have to wait, so let’s just find water and shel-‘ the ground collapsed under their right foot, sending Yuu sliding down a steep incline with loud, “Aaaah!!”

Whud!

“…ow,” they uttered, groaning as they slowly sat up. Glancing back where they came from, they spotted the steep slope that had been concealed by one of the leaves. The dirt was smoothed away to reveal red and yellow clay, as though someone had carved out the opening with a tool to remove any bumps or ridges. Realizing that it would be too steep a climb to get out of the ravine, they sighed and shook their head. “Great…is everything on this island trying to kill-”

Thoom…

“…me…” Their voice trailed off as another thud hit the ground, the earth vibrating beneath their feet as they slowly turned towards the densest part of the forest. Something was coming, the sound of branches creaking and snapping reaching Yuu’s ears as they slowly started to creep behind a large rock formation—before finally noticing the razor-sharp teeth and the empty eye socket. They clamped their hands over their mouth as a massive black shape began to emerge, ducking into the gap of the skull until they could peek through the socket.

The creature that emerged was gigantic, towering beyond anything they could imagine as it crept into the area on four legs. The sunlight fell across its body, black and green feathers gleaming while its beak—wickedly sharp and deadly—was slick with something damp.

‘What…what the fuck is that thing?!’ Yuu thought, pressing their body against the inside of the skull as they watched the monster move.

It sniffed the air, its four glowing golden eyes scanning the area. It sniffed at the colorful crystal formations at the base of the tree. A pair of thin, small arms extending from its chest as the strange hands grasped at the stones, snapping them from the base. When it opened its beak, the sun glinted off of sharp rows of teeth before it crunched down on the crystals. Once the crystals were gone, it sniffed around for a moment before it stood on its hind legs and leaned against one of the trees. Its neck stretched out further than they thought was possible, its sharp beak plucking at the fruit that seemed so ridiculously small in comparison. From this angle, they could see a pair of massive wings pressed tightly to its sides and a long serpentine tail lazily sweeping across the ground.

‘Okay…whatever the hell that thing is, it seems only interested in fruit, so maybe it won’t mistake me for a bug and eat me…?’

Something skittered across the bark near the monster’s claw, and a moment later its head had darted forward. A giant spider-like bug with crystalline spikes was squirming in its beak before it tossed its head back, swallowing it whole before continuing to pluck at the fruit with a distinctly happy trill.

‘…yeah, that makes more sense,’ they thought, feeling their heart beating heavily in their chest. ‘Dammit…I can’t run or that thing will spot and eat me like that spider! Maybe I can just…wait here in this skull and-”

Beep-bwoop!

“Shit!” Yuu whispered under their breath as they immediately reached down to the ankle bracelet. To their horror, the bird-lizard monster’s head immediately snapped towards their direction, the two feathery ears popping up and swiveling left and right—searching for the sound again. ‘Dammit, why is the universe trying to kill me?!’

THOOM…THOOM…

Each footstep from the monster made their heart jump as they pressed their body against the wall of the skull, bracing their feet against the other side to avoid falling over and making more noise. They could hear the beast sniff the air, the musty smell of rotting meat and fruit washing over the area while something loud scraped against the ground around their hiding spot.

‘Please don’t beep again, please don’t let it find me, please, please, please, please!’ they thought, staring at the bracelet as the light blinked mockingly up at them. The monster sniffed—horrifyingly close now—as a wave of hot air rushed through the eye socket. Through the gaps in the skull’s teeth, they could see its shadow blocking out the sunlight, the tips of what they realized were its massive claws beginning to curl underneath their hiding spot and starting to lift. ‘I just woke up, I don’t want to die!’

Just then, in the distance, a loud, echoing roar filled the air.

Immediately the bird-lizard let out a sound akin to a chirp as it dropped their shelter back down, the quiet crooning it was making earlier devolving into a terrifying hissing snarl and caw. The earth shook as Yuu heard it bound away, branches and leaves snapping in its path as they heard it barrel through the forest. Then…

Silence.

They waited, heart racing as they listened for any sign of it returning. Minutes felt like hours before—finally—they cautiously emerged. Shaken, Yuu was horrified to see the deep gouges in the earth from where the creature had been digging with its claws, realizing just how close they were to being eaten.

Cursing under their breath, Yuu pointed at the bracelet and said, “Once I figure out how to get you off, I’m breaking you with the biggest hammer I can find.”

Be-beep! Beep-bwoop!

They glared at it and asked, “What now?”

“Signal connection: acquired,” a mechanical voice from the wall said, the sudden speaker startling Yuu as they pressed their back to the skull, looking around warily. “Scanning…no threats detected nearby. Opening access port. Please stand by.”

Chk! Tsssss….

Right before their eyes they watched as the stone wall split open, revealing a large metal door that slid open into a dark tunnel. “Please step forward,” the mechanical voice commanded as the lights turned on inside.

Glancing back at the path the monster had disappeared through, Yuu reluctantly obeyed and entered just as the entrance shut with a decisive tssss. Now they found themselves stuck between two locked doors with no visible way out. “Okay…now what?” they asked aloud, looking around in confusion. A thought occurred to them as they uttered, “Please tell me I didn’t just walk into a trap.”

“Please stand by for entry permission,” the mechanical voice said. “Analyzing bracer code…error! Error! Code cannot be found in database.” Movement out of the corner of their eye drew their attention to the inner door, a panel opening on the side as a camera-like device emerged. “Please stand still while scanning is in progress.” A red beam of light shot out, the thin line moving from their feet to their head before vanishing, the camera retracting with a click. “Scan acquired. Searching for facial recognition files…search complete. No staff record on file. DNA signature cannot be verified. Please stand by while I contact the current on duty director for further instruction.”

“Wait, what’s going on? What is this place?” Yuu asked, searching the room for something to focus on. “Where are we?”

“Status update: cannot establish contact with current on duty director,” the computer voice said, making them wonder if it was canned phrases. “Attempting communication with secondary duty director……attempt unsuccessful. Reevaluating follow-on directive…complete. Beginning creation of temporary visitor profile.” The panel on the other side of the door opened, this time revealing a small screen and a microphone. “Please place your hand on the screen and state your name to begin registration process.”

Gingerly placing their hand palm down on the screen, Yuu leaned in and said, “Um…Yuu?” They jumped but held their hand to the screen when it began to scan, the glass surface pleasantly warm to the touch compared to the chill of the room.

“Name and handprint scan accepted. Creating temporary visitor profile…profile complete. Welcome Uhm Yuu.”

“I-it’s just Yuu,” they said quickly.

“Please report to the main office for assistance, Uhm Yuu,” the computer voice continued, the door sliding open as lights began to turn on inside. A path of green lights appeared along the floor, creating a pathway for them to follow. “Once in the main office, you will be provided with instructions, your new staff badge, and your new Multi Information Record Assistance tool. Access to the lab facilities will be limited without the badge and tool, so please ask for assistance from the main office if you find yourself unable to enter certain workspaces. If you lack the current clearance level, you will not be permitted to enter the space. Please ensure you follow proper protocol when storing collected samples before proceeding through the decontamination and hazard chambers. Have a nice day!”

“…what is this place and why does it sound shady as heck?” Yuu uttered as they shook their head. Knowing they had no other options and didn’t want to be outside, they followed the green lights.

It was…eerily quiet. They expected to see someone—anyone—in this place rushing around or even just working, yet it was silent. Each room they passed by was either dark or lit up but empty, various tools and computer equipment scattered about in the gloomy space. Streams of data flickered across the monitors and transparent screens, occasionally displaying diagrams of weird and disturbing creatures that looked nothing short of a nightmare’s dream! Only one monitor, however, caught their eye as they stared, noting how oval its shape was and the ornate serpent-like frame that decorated the edges of the cracked surface. Instead of a reflection, however, bright green flames flickered within the dark depths, the screen glitching as a broken white mask blinked in and out of existence.

Whatever had happened in this place, it was clear to Yuu that this place had long since been abandoned. A struggle happened from what they could tell, though it looked less man-caused and more…sinister. The walls were dented and marred with deep gashes, patches of dried blood stained the floors the further they ventured in. On one wall mirror, they saw a bloody handprint that slid down before disappearing, the inside of the room looking like something had shattered the equipment with a single blow. What unnerved them the most, however, was the fact that there were no bodies.

‘Why am I still going deeper into the creepy abandoned death-trap?’ they thought, warily looking between the rooms for any sign of life. ‘Isn’t there some rule to horror where you’re not supposed to do that?!...then again, being out there with big, tall, and terrifying and whatever made that roar sounds even worse.’

They finally reached the end of the green lights and entered a large open room, multiple desks and chairs arranged in a chaos of papers and busted computer stations. Only one in the back against the wall seemed operational, flicking to life as they approached. “Please place your hand on the panel to begin replication of your new staff badge,” the computerized voice said. Upon touching the panel, the screen began to fill with data faster than their eye could read, the machine whirring to life before ejecting a thick plastic card from the slot beneath the monitor. “Congratulations, Uhm Yuu, for joining the Night Raven Corporation’s Exploration and Research Development Team. You will begin your first assignment as a lab assistant to our great technicians. Please follow the lighted path to the lab area where you will obtain your first Multi Information Record Assistant tool and receive your first task from your immediate supervisor.”

“I’m not even a scientist, and even if I was, where is everyone?!” Yuu asked. When they received no response, they slumped their shoulders with a sigh and said, “Yeah. These are just recorded voice lines…that can somehow say my name without issue…mostly…”

The lights led deeper into the facility, the lights dim with red emergency lights flashing the further in they moved. The eeriness made their skin crawl, walking around the shallow gashes in the floor until they finally made it to a large warehouse-like area. From wall to wall were machines and, rows upon rows of glass tube tanks lined up as far as the eye could see. Each one was filled with a viscous liquid of various colors: red, blue, orange-yellow, and green. Yuu could see there were dark shapes in most of the tubes, though any distinct features were obscured by the layers of dirt and dust against the glass. Cautiously they approached the closest one, wiping their hand against the glass-

“AAH!?” they shrieked, tumbling over one of the cables and scrambling away until their back was pressed against the base of another tank. Inside the glass was an almost humanoid creature, its face looking like a squashed reptile crossed with a fish as the gills on its neck slowly fluttered in the liquid. Tubes and wires connected to the creature’s body, though whether it was to keep it alive or feed data to the computer next to the glass tank they couldn’t tell. Breathing heavily, they uttered, “This place is going to give me a heart attack before I can even figure out what’s going on! What even is that thing?!”

Blip! “Cannot com-m-m-mpute your question. Please con-n-n-nect device and ask again.”

“…what?” they uttered, looking around in confusion before spotting what looked like a large, thick bracelet next to their right hand. Curious, they picked it up, examining the surface and spotting the screen. It was dark, with the word “M.I.R.A.” displayed in bright blue letters. “What…are you?” they asked.

“Answer,” the tiny bracelet said, startling them as they dropped it into their lap. “I am M.I.R.A., an a-a-a-artificial intelligence tool. P-p-p-please pl-l-l-l-lace me on your wrist in a comfortable position to begin user r-r-r-reassignment and module r-r-repair protocol.”

“Nnnnot sure that’s a good idea if you sound broken,” they uttered. Still, they complied, the bracelet snapping shut around their wrist.

The screen blipped and flickered, a loading bar appearing on screen as the voice said, “Beginning r-r-r-repair protocol. S-s-s-stand by………repair protocol, complete. Module is now in operational order. Beginning user reassignment. Please state your name.”

“Yuu,” they stated clearly.

“Acknowledged. Searching database…new staff profile found. New user ‘Uhm Yuu’ has been accepted. Welcome, Uhm Yuu. What would you like to know?”

“…are you actually going to answer my questions, or are you just saying canned recorded responses?”

“Answer: it is my directive to assist my user and answer any potential questions they may have and provide suitable answers based on available data. I am designed to learn and respond accordingly to any situation you may come across.”

“Guess that’s good enough for me,” Yuu muttered. Aloud, they asked, “So what exactly are you? Let’s start with that.”

“Answer: I am a Multi Information Record Assistant, an artificial intelligence tool developed by the Night Raven Corporation to aid its researchers and exploration teams in the study of the local flora and fauna. Once assigned, I am to monitor my current user’s vitals to ensure they remain in good health and offer suggestions on mitigating stress when not in current danger. I will continue to serve my purpose until the day you pass, in which I will once again be reassigned to a new user. What would you like to know?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, back up! What do you mean ‘once again’? Did you already have another user before me??”

“Affirmative. Dr. Amity Willows was my previous user prior to her passing. As the top researcher in this facility, Dr. Willows’ work was vital to the progression of understanding the environmental effects of the energy found across the island and the influence it has on the local flora and fauna.”

“I…what? Island?” Yuu uttered, thinking back to the beach they’d awoken on. “What do you mean by that? Where are we? And…what happened to Dr. Willows?”

The tool said nothing for a moment, the screen humming as a new loading bar appeared. Then, with a blink, it transferred to another screen with what looked like a variety of folders with locks on most of them. “Answer: Due to the low clearance level on your profile, I am unable to access many of the files uploaded to the Dark Mirror Server. Searching……located data logs recorded by Dr. Willows. Data logs have been triple-encoded to prevent complete factory reset in the event something should happen to her, and will require time to unlock each data log. However, I am able to access the last few minutes of security footage before servers went down.”

“Can you show me what happened and where everyone is?”

The screen blinked through various different screens—too fast for their eyes to follow—before finally settling on an angle of the lab they currently stood in. Compared to now, there were more people around frozen in time. They were examining the figures in the tanks, some holding tablets while others were standing in front of stations filled with test tubes and beakers. The video began to play, though the quality seemed…strange. The video glitched and skipped, some segments being streamlined while others looked like fragments of images. In the center of the room, however, they spotted two unusually colored tanks: the largest being a noxious red color while the smaller one was a brilliant cyan. Both seemed to have creatures inside them, though what they looked like they couldn’t tell from this angle.

In an instant, the imagery changed. Warped screams and cries of panic emerged from the speakers as the scientists began to run, the red tank shattered as the creature’s serpentine body—dripping with a black ink-like substance that seemed to burn the metal floor—dragged itself across the floor by two sets of gangly clawed arms. Its head in one image showed an oddly familiar narrow skull-shaped head, the eye sockets empty of any eyes yet seeming to “cry” drops of the inky ichor.

Yuu covered their mouth in horror as they saw the creature hunting down the scientists, the camera shifting to the hallways they’d walked through as the creature went on a rampage across the area. The scientists that managed to avoid the creature by hiding in the rooms had been splashed by the black ichor, which began to spread across their bodies, the feed cutting out just before they could see what happened—though given what they’d seen and the lack of bodies, they had a good idea.

“What…the hell is that thing?” they uttered, watching as the creature crashed its way down the hall and out the entrance before the feed finally cut off. Remembering the giant skull they’d hidden in just outside the facility, they asked, “Did…that monster die after escaping?”

“I do not have access to the outside cameras at this time. However, the little data I am able to access from Dr. Willows’ research logs suggest that the creature’s DNA was unstable. Comparing data prior to and just before the incident in the lab, it appears that the creature’s DNA was contaminated by an unknown substance that weakened its immune system. The compromise appears to have created an unstable reaction to the creature’s DNA, triggering a rapid deterioration of its physical body shortly before its emergence from containment. Based on visual analysis, it would suggest the creature’s movements are indicative of death throes warring with an insatiable instinct to feed and consume other living creatures. Conclusion: it is highly likely that whatever skeletal remains you have found may be the very creature that escaped.”

Yuu was silent as the screen went back to the screen showing the rest of the videos that weren’t locked, their thoughts swimming. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet as they asked, “Does…this mean…I’m alone on this island?”

“Answer: cannot confirm. I am unable to connect to the communication network between the various facilities scattered across the island. Current status of facilities is unknown—I cannot detect any distress signals either.”

“So…there may be other people out there, then. I just have to find them, right?”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay…I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about why everything is so giant? Or…maybe what that giant bird…lizard…monster thing was.”

“Answer: the island’s biology constantly shifts and changes over time. The energy that’s released in the environment enhances the soil’s nutrients and the resulting flora growth, creating a rich ecosystem not found anywhere else on Earth. Due to this, the creatures of this island have been noted to grow at an exponential rate, resulting in many animals and insects developing mutations and abilities unnatural to those commonly found in their natural habitats.”

“And the giant bird-lizard…?”

“Cannot confirm. The island is host to many a creature that match that description.”

Yuu groaned and covered their face, leaning against the closest surface while uttering, “Of course…why would I think otherwise on an island full of giant monsters? How in the world am I supposed to survive here if the scientists in this place didn’t even survive that mutant in the tank?”

“Rrrrr…”

‘……why does this feel so soft?’ they though, a sense of dread filling their chest as they patted the fluffy damp surface. Another low, rattling growl erupted beneath them as Yuu slowly turned their head.

Bright cerulean eyes with cyan sclera stared at them in the gloom, blue flames flickering in its ears. The creature’s face was cat-like, ebony scales decorating its cheeks and forehead gleaming like obsidian stones. Its upper lip curled up to reveal sharp fangs, licks of more blue flames emerging from its mouth.

“Niiiiiice kitty…monster,” Yuu said slowly, carefully getting off and backing away. It watched them intently, standing taller on four legs as a three-pronged tail swished behind it. “Gooooooood kitty-monster…”

Out of the corner of their eye they spotted the red and blue tubes from the video. The larger of the two had clearly been shattered, its bulk all but concealing the smaller tube’s condition. Drops of containment fluid dripped from the broken glass to the floor, revealing the very large pool at the base.

‘Oh shi-!’

“Sssscraaaarl!!”

“FUCK!!” Yuu shrieked, barely dodging the monster’s jaw as it snaped at them before bolting for the exit. “MIRA!! What the hell is that thing?!”

“Cannot confirm,” came the computer’s response. “Please stand still so I may conduct a proper scan, Uhm Yuu.”

Hearing the snarling creature charge after them, Yuu picked up the pace and shouted, “I’m about to get eaten by a mutant cat monster, and you want me to stand still?!”

“Negative. According to article thirty-five, section five—”

“Less briefy, more helpy, please!” Yuu yelped as they quickly turned the corner, hearing the monster slam into the wall as its claws scrabbled for purchase on the metal flooring.

“Affirmative. Activating lockdown procedures. Please proceed to the entrance, Uhm Yuu, as quickly as possible to avoid being locked in. You have ten seconds. Nine. Eight.”

Seeing the end in sight and the steel door starting to descend, Yuu uttered every curse they knew as MIRA continued her countdown. Fueled by pure adrenaline and fear, Yuu launched themselves forward and slid across the floor—and out into the open field. A loud clang rang out as they landed in the dirt, a muffled growl of pain escaping through the metal.

Panting and trembling, Yuu turned to stare at the door as the monster slammed and scratched at the metal. How they managed to outrun such a creature they had no idea, and yet…they had. They were still alive! They made it!! They-!

…why was the door glowing?

They watched in horror as the door changed, the silver metal shifting from glowing orange to pure white as it warped and melted right before their eyes. Through the slowly widening gap they could see the monster’s face, licks of blue flame escaping its jowls as it locked eyes with them.

“Are you kidding me?!” Yuu yelped as they scrambled to their feet again, bolting away from the hidden base. Their heart leapt in their chest as the monster snarled, hearing its bounding gait charge after them catching up faster than it had on the metal floor. For a moment they swore they could feel its hot breath against their back, the smell of sulfur and smoke filling their as they heard what sounded like clicking—

BWOOSH!!

“Gyah!?” they shrieked, somehow managing to dodge the burning brush that exploded in front of them without stopping. “Is everything on this island trying to kill me?!”

“Answer: the local flora and fauna-”

“I wasn’t asking literally, MIR—ack!”

So distracted were they by dodging the bursts of flame from the monster, they didn’t realize they had run into a dead end as they all but slammed into the wall. Hands quickly patting the smooth surface, they cursed when they realized they couldn’t climb their way out and turned to find another way out—only to stumble back when a wall of blue flames erupted in a circle around them. As though it knew they were trapped, the creature slowly walked through the flames as it flickered over its fur without igniting it.

Cerulean eyes stared them down, and in the light they could finally make out more features. What they’d thought were wires on its back were actually four tendrils, each one bearing a wicked stinger-like barb on the tip dripping with a noxious green liquid. A drop hit the ground, a faint sizzle escaping as steam rose from the hole in the dirt. Its tail was pronged like a trident, the light glinting off what looked like metal edges along the pointed tips. In that moment, Yuu knew they were dead…

When a shadow fell over them.

In seconds the feline monster’s face went from cold predatory hunter to confusion to fear, eyes gazing up as it hunkered low to the ground. A low, garbled sound akin to a caw and growl rumbled overhead, Yuu’s heart dropping as they followed the monster’s gaze. Perched atop the ridge like a hawk was the bird-lizard from earlier, a large gash that hadn’t been on its shoulder before glistening with fresh blood in the light. Amber eyes locked on to them, a slit in its forehead opening up to reveal a third eye that seemed to pierce through their very soul.

“Tssss-EAARRR!!” the goliath shrieked, flaring its wings as sparks flickered to life across its feathers in a dizzying fashion. Yuu’s hands clamped over their ears as the sheer volume overwhelmed them, the pressure weighing on them with each passing second.

Over the din they could make out a faint shriek, peeking up to see their pursuer writhing on the ground with thorny vines gripping its limbs from the ground. It was clearly in distress, body thrashing as it tried to chew its restraints off while hissing and screeching. Realizing that this was their chance, Yuu bolted past the monster—

And screamed the moment something massive enveloped them, the ground getting further and further away as the wind whistled against their aching ears. They froze in pure terror as they came face to face with the corvid, all three of its glowing eyes staring down at them. It opened its mouth, breath washing over them as—in a low, gravely voice—it said:

“Never…more…”

/------------------/

“……uu……it…get up…….Uhm Yuu. It is time to get up.”

“Mmn…five more minutes…”

“That is ill advised. Vital signs indicate hydration and nutrient intake are critically low, resulting in lowered cognitive abilities. Recommended course of action: seek closest water source and edible fruits.”

Vital signs…?

Groaning, Yuu opened their eyes and sat up, their head pounding from a headache as they realized how dry their throat was. “Wha…what happened?” they mumbled.

“Answer: you fell unconscious and have been asleep for the day,” the computerized voice said calmly. “According to my data, your body was undergoing incredible amounts of stress, resulting in unhealthy amounts of cortisol. Recommend engagement with meditative activities such as yoga or coloring pictures to increase the body’s natural ability to process and regulate your stress levels.”

“Wait, what do you mean I-”

All at once they remembered, hearing the monster’s words echoing in their mind.

“Fuck!! Where’d the monster go?!” Scrambling backwards, they felt something against their back and yelped, finding themselves encircled in what looked like a giant wooden wall of branches—a nest? “Oh no…is it going to feed me to its babies?!”

“Negative. Nevermore currently does not have any young under his care.”

“…wait…his name is Nevermore?”

“Affirmative. Due to his corvid-like appearance and behavior in mimicking some words during test phases, researchers have since dubbed him ‘Nevermore’ in tribute to a famous known poet’s works.”

Yuu’s mouth opened and closed, processing this information as they stared at the bracer. “…you mean to tell me that you know exactly what this thing is?” they finally asked, keeping their voice low in case the monster was nearby. “Do…you know why it didn’t eat me?”

“Affirmative. Nevermore is one of several creatures that match your earlier inquiry, hence my inability to assess the probability. In reference to why he did not consume you-”

THOOM!!

The ground lurched beneath them as Yuu scrambled to press themselves against the wall of sticks—or rather trunks—with a muffled squeak. Another booming step rattled their bones as Yuu silently prayed to not be seen, hand instinctively covering MIRA’s screen to stop the computer from speaking further. Their heart thumped against their rib cage as a massive beak appeared over the edge, seeing the giant monster’s eyes that seemed to glow a brilliant amber in the dim lighting scan the nest.

‘Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me,’ they thought, frozen in pure terror as Nevermore quietly chirped and trilled as he sniffed the air. ‘Goawaygoawaygoawa-’

Nevermore’s eye locked on to them, sending a wave of cold dread through their veins as he turned and leaned towards them.

“NO!!”

He recoiled, blinking at the sharp sound of their voice. When he tried to lean in again, another sharp ‘No!’ from Yuu made him back off with a tilt of his head. As soon as he started venturing into the nest, they noticed how…slow he moved, his body hunched lower than normal. They watched intently, knowing they were trapped but refusing to turn their back on him.

As soon as the pair of smaller arms stretched out from beneath his feathery chest, they braced themselves—until they realized he was holding something.

Carefully the monster set down the massive pile of fruits, each monumental in size and shape. Only when the last of the fruit was still did he move to the far end of the nest, resting his head on his paws and closing his eyes with a sigh. From this angle they could faintly make out the thin line indicating he was still watching, yet he strangely seemed to be trying to appear smaller than he was.

“MIRA…what is going on?” they finally managed to whisper.

“Answer: Nevermore is offering sustenance. Based on previous records of his behavior, he is attempting to ease your fears much like he has in the past when tending to young cubs in his care. Dr. Willows once noted his role as a caretaker of future generations, as he is often found to have adopted orphaned cubs and hatchlings and raise them with his fellow Primal Guardians.”

“So…he’s not pretending to sleep so he can trick and eat me?” they asked, noticing how his eye opened just a little wider before shutting quickly.

“Negative. Though he has not had direct contact with humans, he has not gone out of his way to attempt to harm or eat any of the researchers. According to my database, Dr. Willows was once saved by Nevermore when an expedition was attacked by smaller yet deadly creatures that wiped out the rest of her party. As such, Dr. Willows has started thoroughly studying him as soon as she was released from the medical bay for injuries sustained.”

“…okay…so this giant fruit…is it safe for me to eat?”

“Affirmative. The produce found on this island are noted to be safe and ideal even for humans who require additional nutritional supplements to function properly, providing a stable source of energy and nutrition necessary for day-to-day function. The peach on your right should provide adequate hydration and sustenance.”

They warily looked between the fruit and the monster, half expecting him to gobble them up like the spider from earlier at any second. Each step they felt the bark beneath press harshly against their bare feet, slowly reaching out to dig their hands into the peach while watching him. In an instant the aroma of the peach intensified, making their mouth water and their stomach growl. Before they knew it, their lips were sticky from the nectar and they had all but devoured the chunk in their hands.

‘How long has it been since I’ve had anything to eat or drink?’ they thought, thinking back to the beach and realizing they couldn’t remember anything leading up to that moment. ‘…why am I even here?’

So lost in thought and the flavor of the food, Yuu hadn’t even noticed when Nevermore’s head began inching its way over…until they felt something stiff press against their head.

“BWAH!?”

“SQWARK!?”

Yuu’s eyes were wide as they stared up at Nevermore, his ears perked up and main eyes just as wide and confused as they felt. “Di…did you just lick me?!” they asked incredulously.

“Note: it is not uncommon for Nevermore to attempt to calm frightened cubs with careful grooming after offering a meal,” MIRA commented. “Much like how animals in the wild and domestic settings will perform social grooming to bond, known as ‘allogrooming’, it is an essential and fundamental aspect that reinforces relationships, builds social hierarchies, and even resolves conflicts. In this case, Nevermore is seeking to reassure you as much as he is assisting with hygiene after your meal.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me he might do that?!”

“I am unable to access any records indicating this being a possibility. I’m afraid this was outside of the realm of my assessment to predict such a scenario.”

For a moment Yuu couldn’t speak, watching Nevermore with a confused frown. Despite his size, the griffin-like monster seemed…strangely calm. Like he was observing them as much as they were observing him, a strange intelligence in his eyes. Then, with a quiet voice, they asked, “MIRA…what exactly is Nevermore?”

“Answer: Nevermore is one of many creatures belonging to a category of megafauna. While each megafauna possess differing appearances and capabilities, researchers have begun referring to them as one singular species: Kaiju.”

[in1-nutshell]

Brainstorm turns wobbles into a sparkling

Or the wobble starts to hurt wobbles

Going with the sparkling prompt!

(Finals have been kicking my behind so badly...)

Hope you enjoy!

Wobbles gets turned into a sparkling

SFW, Platonic, Slight Romance, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Wobbles just wanted to give Brainstorm their thanks for not only fixing their lamp but making it better.

The brilliant scientist had installed a series of soft lullabies, adjusted the lighting setting and made it in their favorite color!

Naturally, Wobbles wanted to do something for him in thanks.

Wobbles knocks and enters the lab. Wobbles: “Hey Brainstorm? Its Wobbles. I was wondering—” Brainstorm: “GET DOWN!” Wobbles: “HUH!?” POW! Wobbles falls onto the ground after a stray light beam hits them straight in the chassis. Brainstorm quickly gets from behind his desk and goes over to where Wobbles was. Brainstorm: “Wobbles? Wobbly? Hey, are you…oh…oh that’s not good…” Wobbles, now a sparkling, is sitting on the floor looking up at him curiously. Brainstorm: “Oh First Aid is not going to like this…”

All Brainstorm was trying to do was figure out what kind of ray gun he made in his sleep depraved state.

Now Wobbles was a sparkling.

Surprising the scientist, Wobbles then stood up… straight and walked to him.

Not wobble but walked!

They weren’t wobbling!

The sparkling looked like a normal sparkling… wait actually they looked more like a speedster sparkling.

But at this stage he wouldn’t have to worry about them running off.

…A silly thought that went out the window the second Wobbles went from 0 to 50 out of the lab.

Since when was Wobbles a speedster!?

Perceptor is in the med bay getting checked up by First Aid. He gets a call from Brainstorm. Perceptor: “Brainstorm if you are stuck upside down again, you are going to have to wait. You know I’m in an appointment.” Brainstorm: “Uh huh yeah, is First Aid with you?” Perceptor puts the call on speaker. Perceptor: “You’re on speaker.” First Aid: “Brainstorm?” Brainstorm: “When were you going to announce that your Amica is a speedster!?” First Aid: “How do you know that?” Perceptor: “Wobbles is a speedster?” First Aid: “That’s not important right now. Brainstorm, how do you know about that?” Brainstorm: “Well… in the hypothetical situation in which I MAY have ACCIDENTALLY reverted Wobbles back to their sparkling form, they may hypothetically be…running around the Lost Light…” First Aid: “…Brain—” CRASH! Whirl pops his helm into the med bay. He points at a passing Ambulon. Whirl: “You sneaky bot! Since when where you and Wobbles going to tell the rest of us that you guys had a sparkling.” Ambulon: “Wobbles had a sparkling!?” First Aid: “I think we found them.”

News about a speedster sparkling quickly goes around the ship.

Only few know that its actually Wobbles.

A fact that gave Ambulon so much relief that he didn’t spark Wobbles and they hid it.

…Though the anxiety came back after finding out the sparkling WAS Wobbles.

Few bots actually managed to find and nearly catch them.

Who knew that speedster sparkling’s had seemingly endless energy to burn.

First Aid personally believed that since the incident, Wobbles had been itching to go fast.

This new, younger and ‘fixed’ form was just what they needed to catch up on so much time without being able to go fast.

Rodimus: “How long has anyone spotted our little fella?” Magnus: “3 hours, 26 minutes and 10 seconds counting.” Drift: “Maybe don’t say that too loud.” Rodimus and Magnus look over at the medical team, specifically First Aid and Ambulon looking the most worried. Rodimus: “Lets just try and focus on returning to the most visited sectors of the ship.” Rodimus goes to give the crew their spots to look at. Meanwhile with someone else… Whirl is sitting on the floor. A very tuckered out sparkling napping in his cockpit. He knows he can tell the others that he found Wobbles trying to get into the medbay. He knows he can tell the others that he found Wobbles 2 hours ago. …But no. Whirl wants chaos.

Eventually Whirl does dramatically find Wobbles from behind a corner.

What was he supposed to do?

He was getting bored.

Definitely not because Ambulon was about to have an anxiety attack and First Aid looked like he was going to snap someone’s helm off.

While the search was happening, Brainstorm, Perceptor and Nautica were working fast to make a ray to return Wobbles back to normal.

There was a bit of discussion about Wobbles wobble and how happy they were without it.

It was ultimately decided that priority number one was to get Wobbles back to their normal self before discussing any other options.

Wobbles wakes up back to normal and wondering why everyone looks so tired and why Ambulon was clinging to them like one of those Earth koala’s… not that they were complaining too much.

A week passes by, and Whirl slips them a couple of pictures he had Rewind take before the ray was finished.

The pictures are in a drawer on the bed stand where two new lamps sit.

Wobbles is now determined to get Brainstorm two drinks.

[drxmxss]

Our Eternal Novel °❀.ೃ࿔*

LADS Xavier x Reader

Summary: A cozy bookstore, a love for classics, a small town, a secret and an eternal promise of forever...What could happen when Y/N meets a stranger at her local bookstore who is not who he seems?

Content Warnings: Vampire! Xavier x Human!Reader, 18+, mentions of murder, missing persons, blood, death, injury, stalking/obsessive tendencies, biting, smut (will have a separate and more descriptive warning when included in chapter), more warnings to be added as the story progresses, maybe some oocness (this is my first xavier fic bare with me) reader discretion advised

a/n: Hello! Here is chapter two!! enjoy!!

Find the masterlist here

Chapter Two - Encounters

Xavier began to visit frequently, taking up any recommendations you gave him. Anytime there was rain, which happened quite often in the rainy town, he was there. For some reason however, if the day was bright and sunny he didn’t show, but you brushed it off. The days blurred together with him. Xavier was reserved, but you enjoyed talking with him about different books and stories you had similar interests in.

You learned that he just recently moved to the city, wanting to look for a fresh start after finishing university. Xavier worked a well paying job from home, which made sense for how many books he could afford to buy weekly. While he was only 24, you felt like he spoke like an old soul. He told you he was an infamous night owl, always finding he read better in the dark. 

While you enjoyed his company, you also found him a little odd. He never ate or drank, despite spending hours in the store, no matter how many times you offered him a coffee or pastry. He also never shook your hand, and you noticed he made an effort to never brush against you accidentally, always keeping a wide distance between you both, even if there were only you two in the store.

“I think he totally has a crush on you, Y/N. Why else would he come almost every day?” Cassidy told you one afternoon Xavier didn’t show. You scoffed, “He’s new to town! He probably just wants some friends.” Cassidy laughed, “You’re so naive sometimes, and I know you like him too! Its so adorable watching you two talk. He needs to hurry up and make a move!”

You felt your face heat up. Was it that obvious? Did Xavier notice everytime you’d stare too long at him, just trying to take in his beauty. Who could blame you though, he was gorgeous.

“Maybe after some time Cass, but don’t embarrass me!” You whispered, making Cassidy laugh.

The next day, a strong thunderstorm shook up the city. 

The bookstore shook with the deep thunder that erupted outside, making the lights flicker. You groaned, today was so gloomy.

“With no reports of another victim of the mysterious attacks in over two weeks, police are working diligently to find the source of these crimes.” Cassidy read the paper to you as you dusted some bookshelves. “Geez Y/N…this is so scary, we have a real life serial killer on the loose!”

“Cassidy I’m already freaked out enough as is, and I saw that in the paper already!” You told her, Cassidy sighed “I’m just worried, what if something happened to you?” You shook your head,”I’m sure they’ll find them soon Cass.”

“Hello? Anyone here?” A familiar voice echoed from the front door, you and Cassidy turned to see Xavier, perfectly dry from the raging storm outside. “We’re over here!” You said, waving him over. As he approached, you noticed he looked different today, maybe a little sick even. He looked paler than usual and his usually bright blue eyes had looked darker.

“Hi Xavier.” Cassidy giggled behind you. “It’s raining a lot outside, what made you decide to make the trip?” You turned to see her eyeing you mischievously.

“Rain doesn’t bother me, plus I needed a new book.” He answered, “What’s on the list today Y/N?” Cassidy giggled behind you again, making you fight the urge to roll your eyes at her.

“Our shipment came in yesterday, I haven’t put everything out yet, let me go see if I can find you something.” You told him, walking to the storage room.

Lines of labelled boxes with various novels filled the storage room, you went to the box you hadn’t labelled and pulled out a book.

Dracula by Bram Stoker, and in a fancy red leather binding too! This would be perfect, you thought and it’s a classic.

As you walked back to the shelves where Cassidy and Xavier stood you began to hear their conversation.

“You live alone? Well you need to be careful. Have you been hearing those reports about those missing people? I keep telling Y/N it could be some kind of murderer!” Cassidy told him, Xavier just shrugged, “No, I don't pay much attention to the news.”

“Cass, stop trying to scare everyone.” You interrupted, “Xavier will be fine, I will be fine just give it a rest!” You told her sharply, to which she just sighed.

“Fine, I guess you’re right. Anyways, what do you have there?” She asked, pointing towards the red leather book in your hand.

“Xavier’s next story,” You replied with a smile, turning to face him. “It’s a new edition of one of the classics!” You said cheerfully putting the book in his waiting hands. Cassidy peeked over your shoulder to see his reaction, side eyeing you.

You saw Xavier read the title and he seemed to stiffen, and clenched the book in his hands.

“Dracula….interesting.” He said in a low voice, making you raise an eyebrow. You exchange a quick glance with Cassidy before clearing your throat, ”Yeah, rebound with red leather, I thought it looked nice and you did say you like classical fiction.”

Xavier looked up from the book and stared at you coldly again, like the first day he was here, but his words didn’t match his expression. “No.. it’s great, I just..” Suddenly, he started to stumble back. Instinctively you grabbed his wrist to help him regain his balance.

Touching his skin made you gasp, it was ice cold.

“Xavier are you alright?” You asked, “You’re freezing do you need a cup of-”

“Don’t touch me!” Xavier snapped, ripping his wrist out of your grip, making you gasp again. Cassidy stepped in front of you then, “Hey you don’t need to snap like that, she was just making sure you were okay.” Xavier narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly looking angry. But like a switch was flipped, his expression softened.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. Here.” He handed you the book back. “I need to go home, I’ll come get this another day.” Xavier began to walk away but you quickly handed him the book again, “No here, this one’s on me today. Just get well soon, okay?”

Xavier barely nodded, and without a word exited the store into the pouring rain outside.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “What the hell was all that about you suppose?” You asked Cassidy, who shrugged in response.

“No idea, maybe classic horror makes him sick?”

*

As you walk to the bus home after work, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have in your gut. Why would Xavier lash out like that over a book? Did you offend him somehow? A million thoughts race in your head. As the bus makes it way down your street you try to watch the rain beat against the window to distract your mind.

Exhausted, you head up to your apartment, eager to try and sleep your worries off.

*

A loud crash of thunder wakes you suddenly, making you sit upright in bed, your heart beating fast in your chest. Drowsy, you walk to the kitchen for a glass of water when something strange catches your eye.

You walk to pick up a book off the coffee table that wasn’t there before, and your stomach drops.

Dracula. In the red leather binding.

Like you gave Xavier.

Before your mind can even think to respond, you feel two cold arms wrap around you tightly, and you feel a warm breath on your neck.

“Look who woke up.” An all too familiar voice whispered in your ear, “I was starting to worry I’d have to wake you myself.”

“Xavier?” You whispered, afraid to speak normally, one of the cold arms gripped your waist tighter. You try to turn your face to be met with the same dark blue eyes from earlier. What was he doing here?! 

You gasp, and before you can scream, his cold hand is over your mouth. You cry out behind it, but his grip tightens, and his breath fans over your neck again making you shiver. “Shhhh, don’t be scared. It’ll be over soon okay? Don’t worry.” He says in a sickly sweet voice. You cried out and thrashed against him, he let out a low growl and suddenly you were shoved against your living room wall.

Xavier, still pressing his hand against your mouth, pressed all his body weight against you, making you whimper. His blue eyes glowed fiercely in the darkness as he stared into yours. Slowly he leaned down and you felt his teeth graze ever so softly against your throat. Tears wet your cheeks as you struggled against him, your heart nearly bursting with fear.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/N. You just smell amazing. I’ll be quick, but this might pinch a little.” Xavier whispered into your ear, and you felt razor sharp teeth rip into your jugular. 

You couldn’t scream or move. You were paralyzed instantly, feeling like your energy was being torn away from you, Xavier’s hand dropped from your mouth to grip your jaw. He pulled you impossibly closer, you tried to scream out, but only small gasps managed to escape. 

Slowly, your vision blurred. He’s killing me, you thought, this is it.

As you begin to succumb to the darkness, you feel Xavier pull away from you, and you feel yourself slump to the floor.

Right before you finally close your eyes, you see Xavier’s bright blue ones staring into yours, his face and mouth covered in blood.

a/n: the end.....nah but stay tuned for chapter three! what do you think is gonna happen?