#.🩸— writing

[izaanagi]

part 2 of dazai with a corruption kink please? 😳

You ask and I deliver… hopefully. Enjoy! ♡

“ YOU JUST CAN’T GET ENOUGH. „

pairing: dazai osamu x virgin!shy!female reader

warnings: MDNI! corruption kink!, reader works at the ADA, reference to previous part, reader is very horny but confused, possessive Dazai, oral sex (f!receiving), minor bruising, vaginal fingering.

wc. 3.6k

sans’ corner: this is the second part to this anon request (you can read that one as a stand-alone!) ♡ 

You don’t know whether it is bound to be this way, or whether it is your new born wetness to control your impulses, but it grows harder and harder to detach yourself from Dazai. You just know that everybody has their own suspects on what has happened between the two of you, judging by the looks Kunikida and Tanizaki throw toward your direction, and likely Ranpo already figured it out (but Ranpo figures out everything, so he doesn’t really count), but you can’t just refrain yourself, after that one time. 

And it is embarrassing to say the least, ridiculous, because anyone could just look at your face and they would immediately know the amount of obscenities going through your mind. You barely recognise yourself, and you don’t know how to go back, at when Dazai’s hands did not seem so long and perfect to caress the slit between your thighs, at when his pants did not seem tight enough to let you see an outline of his cock, at when just a touch of his did not set your insides ablaze. 

However, if you’re honest with yourself, you are not sure you do want to go back - at being clueless, being touch starved, at not being interested in what Dazai and his dirty mouth have to offer.

But it certainly makes you think, whether this is normal or just a side effect of anyone who comes into contact with Dazai Osamu. His influence, the way he carries himself and the spell he has at hand all the time are things everyone is affected by; and yet, you feel like you’re the only one who is simmering, bubbling in your own flesh - yearning for relief, which only Dazai can bring. Now, you delude yourself that you might understand the people who get stuck in the desert and crave for water so bad they start hallucinating; you feel the same way, pathetic, scared of being that way - dependent on a single action, filling up your mind every damn second of the day. And the worst part of it, is that Dazai knows it fully well, and the last words he said to you before separating, still ring in your ears as a threat, as a promise.

“We did not even begin.” 

Yeah, your ass. 

Dazai has not made any move to further deepen your intimate acquaintance, and it drives you mad to think that he is doing it on purpose, or even worse, because he is not interested anymore. You have to force yourself not to get stuck looking at him, making the situation even worse than it already is. You have to force yourself not to try on yourself the things he did to you, trying to fit your less satisfying fingers inside you - but you are unable to control yourself when images of the encounter in that hole-in-the-wall replay in your mind like a movie on loop. 

And foolishly, you think to yourself, that when the next time comes, it will be easier for Dazai to slide his fingers inside and fuck you thoroughly the way he promised you to. 

It will be easier for you to get used to it as well, and Dazai might just heat up things a notch, if that was the case. But you observe as he wantonly drapes himself over Kunikida’s chair, trying to annoy the poor man doing his job and not having a care in the world, and a sense of disappointment hits you again, just enough for it to sting a little - and enough to make you slap yourself on the cheeks, deciding to get your shit together and get over this stupid thing, forgetting all about Dazai and his long, elegant fingers inside you and the angels crying at the miracle of not being shy in that moment (which is a big fat lie, as your reddening cheeks show, just at mere memory). 

But your actions gain you some attention from the person you really did not want it to: Ranpo just looks at you with his head bent to the side, as if observing you is enough to know what is going through your mind. You see him calling you with a finger, not paying attention to the way Dazai side eyes your movements, following your every step up until Ranpo’s desk. 

“What’s with that frown?” Ranpo asks, and you feel yourself blushing even more for absolutely no reason.

“I am not frowning,” you try to dissuade the man from inquiring further, but Ranpo smiles at you condescendingly, as if he knows exactly what your jumbled thoughts are about, and mocking you for trying to desperately hide them. 

Ranpo is non convinced.

“I’d recommend you to pay more attention to what is happening around you, rather than inside you,” the man whispers in a conspiring tone, narrowing the space between your faces and making you instantly blush to the root of your hair. He even winks, and it would be less mortifying if you weren’t as bashful as you are: Ranpo Edogawa is one attractive man, but all you can do, is just be taken aback from the way Ranpo glances behind you, where a pair of sharp eyes is glaring daggers into your back and nod with your head lowered. 

As if Ranpo just concluded his very important mission, he slumps in his chair and opens some weird flavoured snack from his stash, munching on it and being happy about being alive. Taking that as your cue to leave, you turn your heels and walk to your desk - but the sensation of eyes boring into you does not leave. 

It feels like a deja vu, a nostalgic reminder of the days in which you weren’t so consumed by Dazai and his eternal mind games you don’t really understand. On the other hand, it makes you hopeful, excited, yearning for more: and the more you feel those eyes looking at you, the more scenarios of warm touches, sloppy kisses, panting mouths and shushed moans jump into your head. If you weren’t at work, you probably would have been tempted to rush your fingers through your foils, just to live a few moments more in the delusion of Dazai breathing on your neck and ruining you for good. 

It’s then, out of the clear blue, Dazai takes your hand, and drags you away from the office. 

“We’ll be back in a few,” he shouts as the only notice, and you can hear the way the air moves around Kunikida’s head, when he shakes it - very done with Daze’s antics, and can imagine the smirk Ranpo is sporting. You work with a bunch of weirdos, but none of them comes even close to the one who has taken ahold of your limb and has been walking towards an unknown direction, without a single word.

“Dazai-san..?” you try to call out, but he is not even listening to you, just marching ahead. 

Dazai drags you for a few meters more, behind a wall that leads to a cul-de-sac where you suspect some other offices, now abandoned, were previously located. Your head slightly bangs on the concrete of the wall, and you wince painfully for a second, but even then you know that Dazai is not paying you attention, his hand still holding yours and the other one over his mouth, in contemplation of the dirty floor below your feet. 

“What did Ranpo say to you?” Dazai asks, voice low and threatening, but not scary. His eyes lift up to lock into yours, and you see him lingering in a state of daze and confusion, the clear will to know, but at the same time to leave it as a secret. It makes you skip a beat, and redden your cheeks. 

Gulping for air, you try to do your best not to let Dazai know that while his name never came up, he was the implied object of the brief conversation. 

“No-nothing in particular. Just asked how I…was doing,” you attempt explaining, but it is clear like day that Dazai does not believe a word you say. Yet, he smiles - his eyes still swimming. He closes the gap between your bodies, knee separating your thighs and an arm above your head, dwarfing you even more. 

“Oh, I see. So I’m nothing in particular, virgin-chan?” the man humours you, and his lips finally make contact with your skin after the millions of times your mind played that exact scenario in your head. It’s not surprising that not even one comes close to the real thing: Daze’s lips are warm, his breath is hitched and the kiss all but breaks your skin into goosebumps. 

Once again, a deja vu hits as your words get stuck in your throat, nothing coming out of it, swallowed by the palms now mapping your stomach, your ribs, your chest, your collarbones and wrapping around the point where your neck meets your jaw: Dazai’s lips travel from your ear to your cheek, leaving a trail of dry pecks, until they finally hover over your mouth. 

“Are you going to pretend that you did not want this?” 

He deadpans, and heat waves raging throughout your body freeze at the cold remark. The man’s hands grab your hips and shove them into his, and you discover that no matter how cold Dazai’s words are, he is also sporting a semi erection. He slowly grinds, and there is a shiver coming up your spine you cannot suppress. 

“Do you have fun making me stay this way all day long, huh, virgin-chan?” 

Dazai taunts, but you still can’t find words to answer him. His hips grind lightly on yours, again, and you feel your most inner core rub against Dazai’s cock. 

A choked moan makes it past your lips, right into the brunette’s face. Daze’s teeth are flashed in a smile that reeks of cruelty, and arousal. 

“Already this excited, virgin-chan? Do you want to,” he grinds again, and this time it’s harsher and slower, “rile me up enough so I will lose control all at once, hah?” 

You find it in yourself to shake your head, that ends up on Daze’s shoulders, so you can both hide the tears prickling at your eyes, the overwhelmed blush your cheeks certainly betrays and the dilated pupils you know you have developed since the moment that Dazai finally, finally started touching you.

It feels better than it should. Your hand comes up to hug Daze’s neck, soft and warm.

“Answer me,” Dazai growls, and he grinds again, his cock stiffening in his pants each time more, making them tighter and outlining his lengths better each time, “or I will take you right here,” he finishes. 

Truth to be told, you’re only half listening to him, more concentrated on the pulsation your pussy is experiencing, and the way nipples are hurting in your bra, and the breath that is full of Dazai’s scent. Looming over your figure, Dazai takes up all of your vision, and your mind goes blank to anything that is not directly connected to your body or his: it’s as if you’re in a vacuum, nothing existing outside of the secluded space where Dazai is, successfully, attempting to take your virginity. 

“We weren’t, really..” you swallow, as Dazai thrusts again, “talking about anything in particular.”

“Then why was he looking at me like that?” Dazai prompts, his hands now wandering over your shoulders, just to stop over your breasts, fondling them carefully, trying to pinpoint the exact spot of your nipples. 

“Like what?” 

You innocently rebut, as another strangled sound comes out of your mouth, when Dazai gruffly grabs your butt and pushes you to straddle his thigh, your stomach coming into contact with his now fully erected shaft and your pussy shuffling in your panties over Dazai’s toned thighs. 

“Like he figured you out,” Dazai supplies, still not surrendering a plausible answer to his own idea, “like he knows what is going on.” 

You feel Dazai move your hips, not understanding what exactly he has in mind, until his knee hits the wall behind you, and you feel your pussy coming into contact with his hard manhood once again. This time the contact is longer, and rough, Dazai’s hips pressing on yours and then grinding enough for the clothes separating you to feel useless and oppressive, wanting to get rid of them to feel more, feel Dazai’s soft skin brush yours. 

The thoughts make you lift your head up and bang it against the wall - but the impact never hits, as Dazai takes a hold of your head right before and cradles it against him.

“I think that.. Ranpo-san figured out that I..,” almost choking on your words, your breath hitches as Dazai’s hand, the one with which he has holding your head, wraps around your neck and squeezes lightly, as the other hand adventures further, teasing first one wanton curve of your breast, then the hip and arrives right at the point where the hips meets your thigh, and it stops right there, frustratingly hovering over but not moving further.

“That you what?” He teases, as his finger start to form circular patterns over your pants, coming always closer and closer to your focal point, but never close enough.

“That I..” you swallow, breathless. 

The hand does not move.

“That we…”

“We, what?” 

“That we did something.” 

“Something? Is that what is was? Something?” Dazai drawls, thumb pushing out and almost, almost, touching the spot that is becoming the focal point of your body, nerves tensing up and heat pooling in between.

“Dazai-san..,” you try to say, defend, beg, but nothing comes out of it. Dazai’s reigns over the conversation, over your body, over you. And they are tight, controlling and they make everything as harsh, and deliciously satisfying, as they can.

“I want to shatter you to pieces for thinking that was just something. I want you to be filled with thoughts of me fucking you against the desk, so that everyone fill look at you and know what exactly you’re thinking about, and then you can call it something,” Dazai whispers in your ear, and you don’t have the courage to tell him that that is exactly what happened, that those words fill up your thoughts every minute of you daily tasks, and there are so many things you don’t know and yet you want to let Dazai do to you; it’s a vicious circle - wanting Dazai, and letting him manipulate you into wanting him more, just for him to touch you more, and wanting him more the next type. 

It’s Daze’s spell, and you can’t force yourself to undo it. You are bound by his spell, and you don’t regret it for a minute, not even once, not even ever.

You don’t regret it when his lips hit yours, and when finally, finally he drags you away from that wall, having had enough enough and the walk to his apartment is short, experimental, tough in his pace. 

You do not regret it when your back hits the bed in his bedroom, huge and lined with soft sheets, grey in colour. Dazai does not waste a minute into pushing your hands up into a hold, your wrists pinned down and his knee in between your legs again, as he lowers himself onto you, shyness long forgotten. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you hear Dazai breathe. It’s a soft sentence, one filled with a tone you quite do not recognise, but it seem desperate, raw, yearning for a thing that never could have been real.

It makes your heart shrink, as your adjust underneath his hold.

You suck some oxygen in, and closing your eyes you let it go. The words that follow are both surprising, and not.

“I don’t want you to stop, either.”

Daze’s breath hitches, and there is tenderness in him stripping you out of your clothes, gently holding you, caressing you, worshipping your body the way it deserves to. The dips of your skin are kissed, and licked, and Dazai hooks a fingers into your panties before moving them away, legs draped over his shoulder and so wide for him. 

The look, direct, unseen ever and embarrassing, he gets of your most intimate part is enough to make yourself try to cover up with your palms, and then the sheets. When Dazai’s nose hovers over the hair of your vagina, there is a whimper leaving your lips. 

A soft, warm, wet tongue just laps the entire length of it, encompassing the tenderness of the flesh, the flavour of intimacy and feminine spell and it graces you with the knowledge of Daze’s shoulder slumping over you, nose a millimetre away from the hole that impatiently twitches at the thought of what comes afterwards. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, “might not be able to hold on for such a long time.”

There is a distinct change in the way Dazai poses himself now: there is no light in the bedroom, but you can see the outline of his hair draped over your hips, tongue working open your seams. God forbid he ever gets up from there. 

You tentatively grasp the strands of his dishevel strands, and yank softly. Dazai does not budge from where he is going down on you, but there is a hitch in his movements and he does not ask you to stop, so you flicker the hair in between your fingers and nail lightly his scalp. 

Little flicks of his tongue brush against your clit, your walls, your hole: you feel it slip in, slip out past the tight ring of muscles. It elicits a smug reaction from Dazai when you cannot breathe correctly and the hold on his head you forgot about, tightens on default. 

You cannot understand where Dazai’s wet tongue, and your own wetness start to mingle, except that there is a distinct heat creeping up in your stomach and as Dazai’s tongue continues tasting your pussy, slow, wet and unnervingly tireless, he sneaks in one finger, firstly circling the outside and then promptly slipping in first two phalanxes, then the whole finger. 

It should feel weird, or at least, intrusive - but there is nothing you can concentrate on feeling when Dazai sucks on your clit, and his other hand grabs one of your breast, nipple twisting between his forefingers. 

“You taste so addicting, love, I am not stopping even if you beg me to,” Dazai says, and living with the consequences of the words does not scare you as much as Dazai stopping does. You gulp in air, but nothing makes it in your lungs. 

Flashbacks storm your memories, as if remembering the first time Dazai breached the cavern of desire would bring you any relief in the current moment, or make it easier to hold still, instead of writhing around.  Dazai’s finger does not stay still for long: he tentatively moves in and out, and it does not hurt but you crave more than it. You crave a certain stretch, a burn to witness and remember Dazai by. 

As if Dazai isn’t the only thing you can think about. As if Dazai’s finger do not plague your daydreams and the erotic dreams you experience so often lately, making you wake up wanting and angry about being unable to say that you want it. 

It does not compute that Dazai is here, that he is not moving his tongue away from your pulsating centre until you come undone under his ministration. Words do not come, and you have to stop yourself from emitting embarrassing sounds. Thought jumble in and out of reasonable terms, and staying quiet seems like a smart choice.

As if reading your thoughts (and you’re still not entirely convinced Dazai cannot actually do it), the man gives a harsh suck, as he tries to insert a second finger inside. That, seems to spur you on, thighs trembling, eyelids fluttering closed as the knot in your stomach fastens and tightens, and Dazai’s tongue is frenetically moving in and out your vulva, your delicious and inviting pink pried open for the man to see. You whimper. 

He breathes you in again, and swallows you whole - until the second finger seems to just slip in entirely.

He gives you a few moments to adjust, but not more than that: he starts moving the fingers, and to lessen the strain the other hand grabs and twists your nipples, caresses your collarbones, to the part of the neck he can easily reach, making your body feverish with want. 

The overwhelming ensemble of sensations tips you off just as Dazai starts scissoring his two fingers inside you. There are two moans leaving your mouth, promptly filled by Dazai’s fingers and you can taste yourself on them. You suck anyways, as Dazai ends up licking you clean, and only after being satisfied with the way your thighs tremble and clench around his shoulders, still dauntingly clad, from slight overstimulation, he climbs with his knees to circle your head with his arms and plant an open mouthed kiss square on your lips.

He hauls himself on his slender arms and smirks. It irks you the way he does not look disheveled in the slightest.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” he dares, but then his smile grows wider. 

“Can’t wait to see you pass out from it.” 

Despite the flush of your orgasm, the colour drains from your face. Dazai smirks knowingly, and oh, you know it well: you’re in big, big trouble and the man is still dressed. 

A small “fuck,” escapes your lips.

© renaissansse, 2022.

#dazai osamu #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai smut #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x fem reader #dazai x fem reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai fic #.🩸— writing #.🍷— request

[willowser]

katsuki blames the alcohol for making him stupid.

really stupid.

not that he's had a lot, but his tolerance is low for a guy of his size, and he can feel the edges of his inhibitions dulling with every drink of whatever denki has shoved in his hand. it doesn't taste like absolute shit, which is rare enough to have him indulging, just a bit, for the agency halloween party.

another sip has his head feeling a little swimmy, and before he knows it, his eyes are trailing across the room until they find you. again.

whatever the hell you're supposed to be tonight—a witch, or something else in a pointy hat—is really fucking with him, and has since you walked in. the costume isn't revealing in a sense that it's inappropriate for a work event, but it's...hugging you in all the right places. in every single one of them.

without tights, it would be on the too-short side, but—and no, katsuki can't fucking explain this—something about them is making everything worse. and your calf-high boots ain't helping, either.

it's just—your fucking—hips.

katsuki couldn't tell you what song is playing, but you're swaying back and forth to the tune and one of his canines digs into the plastic of his cup, so deeply that it makes a terrible creaking sound and dents beneath the pressure—and that's when a sharp elbow is delivered to the center of his chest.

mina is at his side when he looks, and her wide, freaky eyes scan his face before narrowing in her little shit-eating way.

"you're a pig."

katsuki chokes, and the little freak takes that as an admission of some kind.

"oh my god," she gasps, mouth falling in all her disgust and awe. "you can't even deny it!" and then she laughs, high and chirpy, and there's no way you can't hear her. "oh, you're down bad."

"cram it," he snaps, sinking his scowl into his cup. "i dunno what the hell you're talkin' about."

"you know i really thought better of you," mina sniffs effectively, turning her face up and away. "not the type to be blantly checking out somebody's ass."

katsuki bristles, and his aggrivation growns until the plastic in his hands starts to melt. "i wasn't—"

"i'm kidding!" mina snorts before flicking him in the nose, narrowly dodging the hand he swipes out at her. "quit being a baby and go shoot your shot already."

"piss. off."

but the hero is unaffected by him, simply scrunching up her face in response before turning on her heel to disappear further into the party.

she's wrong, katsuki thinks, because he's not a pig like sero or fucking dunce face or even kirishima, from time to time, who gets red in the face over a low cut shirt and a pair of tits.

fucking ridiculous, katsuki thinks, because he's way better than that.

it's just—the alcohol. that's making his lids heavy and his thoughts dark and his face hot. has him peeking at you over the lip of his cup, has him picturing you in his head when he's forced to look away.

and, well, maybe, the short cut of your dress has a little something to do with it, too—but he's keeping that shit to himself.

taking it to the grave, even.

#i just love the idea that bakugou really thinks he's so much better than like. denki or sero. #like he does NOT think with his dick like those idiots 😒 #he's a level headed guy 😒 doesn't get all drooly over some hot babe 😒 #but then he sees you all dressed up in some cute outfit and he's like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 uh um 😵‍💫😵‍💫 ahem 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #biting his fist over the curve of your ass and he's never felt more primitive in his LIFE #i am squeezing him until he pops #happy halloween dears 😌🎃🩸✨️🦇 #TAKING IT TO THE GRAVE HA HA GET IT YOU GET IT #GRAVE HALLOWEEN GET IT GET IT #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

[carmyboobear]

Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets. 

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful. 

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low. 

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume. 

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked. 

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer. 

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore. 

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop. 

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger. 

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead. 

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on. 

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though. 

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing. 

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back. 

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question. 

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.                                                                                                                    

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign. 

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in. 

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think. 

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest. 

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence. 

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie. 

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front. 

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out. 

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you. 

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway. 

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them. 

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong. 

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture. 

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to. 

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions. 

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide. 

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container. 

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter. 

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh.  He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour. 

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off. 

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list. 

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift. 

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline. 

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice. 

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself. 

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there. 

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep. 

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something. 

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her. 

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break. 

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen. 

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth. 

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.” 

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles. 

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments. 

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm. 

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you. 

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose. 

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place. 

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses. 

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard. 

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment. 

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling. 

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges. 

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time. 

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends. 

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination. 

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked.  We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so. 

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?” 

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you. 

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is. 

You don't really care, though. 

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.  

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him. 

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important. 

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now. 

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is. 

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away. 

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want. 

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive. 

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?” 

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm. 

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.” 

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled.  Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second  you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead. 

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth. 

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway. 

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden. 

“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head. 

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you. 

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice. 

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that. 

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at. 

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door. 

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

~

@zorrasucia

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my fics #my smut #YEAHHHH LETS GOOO im so excited to release this!! even had my friend proofread this LOL #which was helpful. i couldn't stop writing and then BAM. 7.3k #i really wanted the chapters to be shorter than alexithymia bc its a lot of words to proofread but. oh well. #we'll see if the other chs are shorter. cant wait to hear yalls thoughts!! its gonna get worse for carmy and reader from here #blood orange #🩸🍊

[spaceagebachelormann]

Hello! If you’re taking headcanon requests, may I please request headcanons for what Count Dracula & Erik the Phantom would be like as husbands?

dracula and erik as husbands !

✧ warnings — some mentions of death and possible spoilers for dracula and phantom of the opera. also like 2 sexual jokes i think

✧ additional info — i got so so excited by this request omg <3 if u wanna id rlly appreciate it if u sent me more requests for phantom of the opera and classic monsters!! also not really specific versions of them but i mainly had the book versions in mind

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ erik destler

he wouldn’t wait to marry you

like at all

the second you show him you’re willing to be in a relationship with him and he’s sure you won’t leave him he’s already planning your wedding

of course if you wanted to take it more slowly he might be a little impatient but he’d try his best for you :)

but he’d be so happy if u were ready to get married as soon as possible

the sad thing is he’d get so stressed while trying to plan it because he’d want it to be absolutely perfect because that’s what he didn’t get with christine

and he’d try to convince you not to worry about it or help plan the wedding becaus he wants it to be a surprise for you

however he’d talk to you about what you want <3

so unfortunately he doesn’t know a lot of people 😭 so your wedding audience consists of daroga, mme giry, and maybe christine and raoul if ur lucky and manage to convince them (but they’ll be a little on edge)

and u can invite ur family if they’d be accepting of erik!

once y’all are married it’s so sweet and romantic ohmygod

he’d make u breakfast and dinner every single day, even if he’s had a particularly bad day

he just loves doing things for you

he’d also love writing even more songs and sometimes even entire operas for you or about you, you’re his muse

before he was able to take breaks from bis work to focus on you for awhile

but now you’re married he just can’t be away from you for two minutes

will sit on the floor and talk to u while u shower

or he showers with u

his love language is spontaneously twirling u around and redoing ur wedding dance in the most random places

also carrying u to ur bed if u fall asleep on him or somewhere else, before marriage he’d just let u sleep there and make sure he doesn’t wake u up

such a sweetheart <3

ೃ༄ count dracula

takes his time to marry you

but that’s only because he takes a lot of time working out when and where to propose and shit

and then probably has the wedding planned before you even say yes

which obviously you do

he’d be a little cocky abt u saying yes ngl cause he already knew u would

but the wedding itself obviously takes place at night and mainly other vampires will show up, but he won’t let them remotely near you assuming he hasn’t turned you yet

if he has then go talk to them!! there’s no risk of u dying or getting turned by someone else!!

he’d also rlly like cooking for u and shit since he canonically had to sprint around his castle to make it seem like he had butlers or whatever 😭😭

how good is fucking amazing btw

like god damn

and obviously he has a comfortable ass vampire bed that he’d let u put 60 pillows on if u want

he’d also like have a thing for ur hair no matter how short or long it is

he likes standing behind u and running his hands through it when u do literally anything for funsies

and his fingers are really pretty and long and cold so they feel nice

he also brushes it a lot esp in the mornings

he also doesn’t even look another persons way when he’s with u

ever.

and his brides are now just. draculas sisters or wtv 😭

unless u want them to be ur wives too he won’t complain

as much as he loves you there’s time where he js like. wants personal time to go kill people think

id also imagine ur very close with renfield

like draculas kinda mean to him but ur rlly nice to him <3

like for example waving at him when u see him or just going “hi renfield!!”

renfields probably the one who found u ngl

i can’t think of anything else for him mb pookie 😔 i’ll add to this later

#mars writing 🧈 #dracula #dracula x reader #dracula novel #phantom #phantom of the opera #erik destler #poto #phantom of the opera headcanons #erik destler x reader #dracula (marlees version 🩸) #phantom (marlees version 🎻)

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Eleven

“Revel in this, my lover.”

Vampire!Josh x Vampire!Reader

Authors note: Once again I am SO SORRY this took forever. I hope you can forgive me. Enjoy this rollercoaster of a chapter!!

Word Count: 8,586

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of blood, World War 2 discussions, brief SMUT towards the end, but nothing out of the ordinary.

To say that this particular Blood Den in Chicago had a different vibe than the first one Josh had been to, was an understatement. Instead of the antique furniture, there were plush booths that lined the walls, each paired with a set of curtains for added privacy. Instead of classical music, there was enough bass booming through the sound system to make the floors shake. The color scheme was varying shades of red and black, and the matching lights added to the dramatic atmosphere. 

Josh tried not to let his nerves show when the two of you were escorted up to the VIP section, which was a roped off area by itself on a red carpeted platform that was in the corner of the Den, and had its own circular couch that wrapped all the way around it. The second you both walked in, hand in hand, eyes turned and stared. Some Vampires who were in the middle of feeding looked up and paused as you both passed. Josh would openly admit he loved being the center of attention but this was…different. 

His steps slowed, and you looked over your shoulder and saw the look on his face. You squeezed his hand as you led him through the crowd, following the security detail Dimitri had assigned to you for your stay in Chicago. At the gesture, he squared his shoulders and caught up to you. 

You could hear the whispering as you wove through the crowd. The music was loud enough that you couldn’t make out much, but the words hunter and Kiszka were crystal clear. Thankfully you were finally walking up the short flight of stairs to the VIP section, which was entirely vacant as Dimitri had explicit instructions that it was for you. Anyone else who would normally sit up there would have to get over it for the nights you were in attendance. 

As the both of you settled on the red couch, the security guard turned and took his post at the foot of the stairs. It felt surreal and almost fishbowl-like where you were sitting, but thankfully the crowd went back to what they were doing and for the moment the spotlight wasn’t literally on you both. 

You turned to Josh, “this is still…very weird.” 

“It’s definitely…a lot.” 

You searched his sweet face, trying to find every question he had swirling behind his eyes. 

“Hey,” you said as you reached up to turn his chin towards you. Your fingers lightly toying with the hair that grew from it, “what’s going on in that head of yours, Boy Scout?” 

He stared at you as if you were the only person in the room, his eyes softened at your touch. 

“This…this is the first time I’ve walked into one of these as…,” his voice trailed off.

“One of us?” You tilted your head slightly as you smiled at him and your thumb rubbed back and forth on his jaw.

It was only three words, but there was so much weight to them. 

“Yeah,” he all but whispered.

“Boy Scout, I saw them staring too. But just know that they’re not looking at you like you’re a hunter. Because you aren’t one anymore, and they know you gave that up. They’re probably confused as to why you did something so selfless. We’re not known for our generosity, as you know. What you did doesn’t happen very often, if at all.”

“I’d do it again.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to soften. 

“You would?”

His hand slid across the small space between you, taking your free hand.

“Wouldn’t even hesitate…” 

You started to lean in to kiss your Vampire, but someone clearing their throat in front of you made you freeze centimeters away from his lips. Annoyed, your eyes slid to the side to see the source of the noise. 

It was one of the Den servers, who had been awkwardly standing there for most of the exchange. 

Sitting back against the couch, you said, “...yes?” 

“I was sent to get your drink orders.”

You perked up a little at the question, automatically telling him you’d like your usual A-Negative Manhattan. He looked over at Josh, who seemed a bit lost at what to order. 

An idea struck you, “OH! Do you do Blood Flights here?”

The server gave you a slight, duh, look but he quickly smiled and said, “yes we do.” 

“Ok can we get one then? It’s been awhile since we’ve had some real variety.” You smirked at Josh, happy you smoothed over a potential awkward moment for him, and got him a treat in the process. You were about to have fun. 

“Do you want only Negatives, Positives, or-”

“Oh no give us the whole eight please, a full spread!” He gave you a slight grimace before nodding and turning to leave. 

Josh  turned to you as the server hurried off to the bar, “is a Blood Flight what I think it is?” 

“You haven’t figured out what you like yet, and this is a good and safe way to do so for someone as new as you.” Your finger reached up and lightly booped his cheek. 

He tried to fight a smile but failed miserably, and relaxed on the back of the couch with you. A few Vampires approached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you two curiously and speaking to the security guard. He shook his head at them and promptly shooed them off. 

You rested your arm behind Josh on the back of the couch, and lightly toyed with the curls at the base of his neck, “did you read the itinerary?” 

He shrugged, “I skimmed it before we went to sleep this morning.” 

“Well, apparently the first night we’re here, we aren’t going to have any visitors, but the next few nights we’ll slowly get more and more people up here with us. Dimitri has some friends that are regulars here that he felt needed to be seen with us.”

“Great.”

“Oh it’ll be fun. You need to make more Vampire friends anyway. They’ll love you, I’m sure of it.” 

“We’ll see, I guess,” he said, not fully convinced. 

“...and if anyone is rude to you, I’ll rip their fingers off,” your tone was so light and cheery it made Josh give you a look. “What? They’ll grow back.” 

“Have you ever done that before?” 

You smiled and gave him an innocent shrug, “maybe, maybe not…” 

“Sweet-”

“You see the trick is,” your fingers of one hand wrapped around the middle finger on your other hand and you pulled it back slightly, “you have to do it quick enough to shatter the knuck-”

“That's enough, I get the picture,” he took both of your hands in his to get you to stop. 

“Well, like I said, if anyone is rude to you, I’ll show you how to properly do it,” you smiled at him. 

Before he could properly reply, the Den server was back with your drink. He placed yours on the table in the middle of the platform that the couch wrapped around. Behind him was another server who was holding a long tray containing eight small glasses, all filled to the brim with dark red blood. After delivering the drinks the two of them scurried down the stairs to tend to the booths on the wall. 

Josh scooted forward to the edge of the couch to get a better look at the “Blood Flight” as it was called. The long wooden tray looked to be hand carved, each glass was labeled by the blood type etched into the wood in front of it. The smell wafted up into his nose and he could feel his gums itch, with pressure around his canines. It was getting easier to look at blood and actually want to drink it. He tried to equate the smell with the smell of his favorite food before he was turned, but each night that memory was getting more and more distant and faint, and the instinct to crave blood was getting stronger. He even tried to think about something as basic as pizza, but found that he had to concentrate really hard to remember the taste, and when he finally did it didn’t even sound appealing to him. 

You took a sip of your Manhattan before putting it down and scooted closer to him. 

“This is going to be fun, Boy Scout,” you encouraged as you draped your arm over his shoulders and leaned in even closer. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to the glasses on the table. “Now, they line them up from most to least common blood types, starting with O-Positive, the Ol’ Faithful of blood.”

He gave you a sideways glance, before reaching for the small glass and bringing it to his nose. The smell was a little unfamiliar but sweet. As he brought the glass to his lips, he felt more pressure around his fangs, and he looked at you curiously. You flashed him an encouraging smile as he brought the glass to his plush lips and took a sip. 

First impression? He liked it. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but there was something…hardy about it? It wasn’t overly remarkable, but it was pleasant. He took another sip for a second impression, and he wobbled his head back and forth before looking at you. 

“It's not terrible,” he concluded. 

You nodded in agreement, “yeah, it's not my favorite either. But it’s the most prevalent so you’ll get used to it eventually.” 

A-Positive was a step up, but it was definitely different from the O-Positive, and going in knowing they were two different blood types made the whole notion of different flavors start to make sense in Josh’s head. 

His first sip of B-Positive, however, was the game changer. His eyes went wide and he went in for a second helping immediately, loving the bright and fresh taste. 

You rested your chin on your hand, a serene and fond expression was all over your face. 

“You like that one?” 

He turned to you and smiled, “oh yeah this one is the best so far. There’s kind of a kick to it but in a good way?” 

You glanced at the type he had in his hand, “B-Positive, huh? Noted.” 

Josh made his way down the flight, stopping at A-Negative, remembering it was your favorite. He could see why you liked it so much, and your words that first night in the Den made sense to him now, and he made sure to tell you that. 

“Ok…I get it now,” he said as he sipped on the A-Negative. 

“I told you!” You laughed. 

It was when he got to the second to last glass, B-Negative, that his face scrunched up and he quickly put it back down. 

“No…definitely not that one.” 

“B-Negative is one of those either you love it or hate it, I’ve never really cared for it myself.” 

“So it's like the Merlot of blood?”

You had a very limited understanding of human wine, and you blankly stared at him.

“Is Merlot bad?” 

“It’s not great.” 

“Oh well then yes I could see that.” 

Finally he was at the last glass, AB-Negative, and as soon as he drank it he recognized it. The girl he fed from at Dimitri’s tasted the same, or at least very close to it. 

“I’ve…I’ve had this before,” he said softly. 

You remembered the girl from his first feed and it clicked for you too, “Dimitri did love the rare types. I think it's some sort of status thing.” 

Josh nodded before going back for the B-Positive glass and downing the rest in one gulp. Even with the loud music, he could still hear your soft laugh float towards him. 

“Ok ok, Boy Scout, we’ll get you some more,” you said before flagging down your server from earlier. 

~!~

Jake kept stealing glances at Lou, who was silently watching a baseball game on the TV mounted on the wall. He sat on the same barstool every time he came in, ordered the same drink (double whiskey with a splash of O Positive, or a double O Positive with a splash of whiskey, depending on the night), and minded his business. He had been a regular for at least two decades now, and even knew CiCi’s father before he died. He wasn’t the only Vampire to show up at the bar, but he was the most consistent. Jake wasn’t sure how “old” he truly was, just that he still looked to be in his early twenties. Regardless of his appearance, CiCi would warmly call him ‘Old Man’ in conversation with the same reverence one would give a grandparent. 

The first night Jake showed up at the bar, a little over a year ago, he didn’t make a good first impression with Lou. Mainly because he tried to kill him, but CiCi had put a cork in that quickly. Thankfully, Lou didn’t take it personally, and just went back to his drink. Ever since that night Jake hadn’t really gone out of his way to talk to him, but he was cordial to him when he needed to be. 

But Jake looked at him differently now. Different in the sense that when he looked at Lou drain a glass of O Positive, he saw his own brother.  He had been back in Tucson for about three days now, and he hadn’t spoken of Josh at all. They had exchanged a few texts here or there, but they were just letting the other know where they were in their travels. Josh had sent him a few regular texts, asking Jake how he was, and a few photos of Chicago, but Jake hadn’t answered them yet. He couldn’t pretend everything was normal. He couldn’t pretend that Josh was just on a roadtrip with his girlfriend and seeing different cities. No, the truth was that Josh and said girlfriend were both Vampires now, and were being paraded around different Blood Dens to draw in business. It was so fucking stupid. 

Neither Jake or Sam had said anything to their parents yet. Josh had texted both of them that he wanted to be the one to tell them, so they respected that. It helped that they were still busy with whatever they were up to in Canada, but Josh would have to rip the bandaid off soon. 

For now, Jake sat in his own girlfriend's bar, trying to make sense of it all. 

“You know I can see you looking at me, right,” Lou said after throwing a sideways glance at Jake. Jake’s eyes snapped back to his beer in front of him. 

“Sorry.” 

“Is there anything I can help you with, son?” 

The nerves got to Jake and he blurted out the first thought he had, “when did you get turned?” 

Lou’s eyebrows slowly raised in mild surprise, “hi Lou, how are ya, wasn’t on the menu I guess.” He sighed and turned on the barstool to face Jake, “1942.” 

Jake nodded, “and how old were you?” 

Lou could tell something was deeply bothering Jake, even if the hunter was trying his best not to show it. Jake typically had a haunted look on his face, but he looked even more tormented tonight. “What's this about, Jake?” 

“I can’t just try to get to know you?”

“Well I don’t know who taught you social skills, but asking a Vampire about how they were turned isn’t the first thing you bring up. We can be touchy about that subject, depending on who you’re talking to.” He continued to eye Jake curiously. 

Jake nodded, and internally argued with himself over what he should do next. Everything was eating away at him and for the first time in his life he didn’t know how to fix it. With a rough exhale, he picked up his beer and hopped off his barstool, moving to the one nearest to Lou. 

The Vampire was taken by surprise again as Jake found his new seat. For a few moments, the two sat in awkward silence. Lou only glanced back at the TV when he heard a ball get hit, and cursed to himself when it was caught by the other team. The Cubs had been trailing behind the last 3 innings, and it clearly wasn’t their night. 

“I was just…” Jake started, “my brother was, umm…” 

Lou knew that Jake wasn’t a bad kid, in spite of his ‘profession’. Over the past year he had seen a gradual change in the hunter, a good one, and he knew that CiCi deserved a lot of the credit. He still didn’t entirely trust him, but he had the CiCi stamp of approval, and that was enough for him. He perked up a little at the mention of Jake’s brother. He knew Jake came from one of those hunter families, but he didn’t know what his immediate family consisted of. 

“You have a brother?” He asked, deciding to play along with Jake’s impromptu Q&A. 

“Yeah, two actually...”

“Is one of them in trouble or something?” 

Jake took a long pull of his beer, stalling to answer, “he was…he still is, I don’t know.” 

The distress was all over Jake’s face, and Lou gave him a sympathetic look, “what happened?” 

The hunter gritted his teeth, not wanting to say the actual words. He had avoided truly verbalizing the situation since he left Josh’s apartment. 

“Hewasturnedintoavampire,” he mumbled his words together. 

“...Into a- oh,” Lou replied carefully. Now the sudden interaction made sense. 

Jake nodded, not able to meet his eyes. 

“I’m not going to ask you how it happened, as I said earlier, it can be a touchy subject,” Lou started, which made Jake’s shoulders relax significantly as he didn’t think he’d be able to tell the whole story.  “But I will ask you if he’s ok?”

“I guess…I didn’t see him much before we came back.” 

“It’s a lot to adjust to,” Lou took another sip of his drink, “the first few weeks can be rough, especially if you’re alone.” 

“He’s not alone, not really. The umm…the Vampire that turned him is kind of his girlfriend,” Jake added. 

“Oh? Is she nice?” Lou was even more curious now. 

“She’s alright…for a V-,” Jake caught himself before he finished the word. 

Lou sighed, “you know, Jake, some of us are actually nice and personable. Sure, there are plenty of murderous bastards among us, but name me a species that doesn’t have any of those.” 

Jake’s cheeks reddened, “I-I know, I just…I just never thought that Josh would ever be one of them.” 

Lou purposefully ignored the use of the word ‘them’, “I get that. Is he your older, or younger…?

“Older. Well, by five minutes. We’re twins.” 

Lou’s eyes softened again, “oh that's tough, son.” It was strange to Jake that someone who looked younger than him called him “son”, but he could tell that Lou wasn’t trying to be patronizing. “How is that going to work with your…family business…” 

“I have no fucking idea. Our parents still don’t know.” 

“Well, shit.” 

Jake nodded in agreement, “yeah.”

Lou looked up at Stacy, the other bartender besides CiCi, “another round for us please, Stace.” 

She looked up from the glass she was washing and nodded, making her ponytail bounce in the process. She quickly sat down two fresh glasses in front of them, with Lou’s drink having a darker hue from the added blood. She flashed a grin at Lou, who gave her a shy smile in return. 

As Stacy bounced away, Jake mumbled a thanks to Lou. “You looked like you needed it,” he replied softly. The Vampire took a substantial sip from his drink, before turning to the hunter and saying, “it happened when I was shipped out to France.”

“What-“

“When I was turned. It happened in France.”

“I thought it was rude to-“

“I said it’s rude to ask, it’s just a personal decision to share. And I’m sharing,” Lou took another sip of his drink, his eyes seeing all the usual questions forming behind Jake’s eyes. “I was 22, and my unit had stopped in this small village that hadn’t been taken over yet, miraculously. We were only staying for the night, and planned on leaving at dawn. But somehow a few bottles of wine from the village ended up being passed around and we got hammered. But honestly after walking for three straight days we needed it. After a while I needed to piss so I got up and went down the little path we were on, when this stunning, and I mean beautiful, woman appeared out of nowhere at the tree line. I was so drunk I thought she was a mirage or something, but she was real. She asked if I could walk her home, and who was I to say no to that? That’s when she says there was a shortcut through the woods, and I stupidly fell for it. We got maybe a hundred feet or so into the trees, where you couldn’t see the road and no one could see you either…” His voice trailed off as he stared at his drink, his thumb wiping at the condensation absently. 

“You don’t have to tell me the rest  if you don’t want to…”

As if Lou didn’t even hear Jake’s voice, he continued, “suddenly I was against a tree, this woman’s lips were on my neck, and I thought ‘holy shit how lucky was this?’ But then I felt her teeth, and then I really felt her teeth, and everything went dark soon after that.” He took another swig of his drink, “I kept blacking out, I don’t even remember her giving me her blood to complete the process. ‘Next thing I know is that I’m alone in the woods, extremely disoriented and hungry. But I didn’t know what exactly I wanted.” At this, Lou gave Jake a pointed look, the answer being obvious. He didn’t want to divulge anymore, at least for now.

Jake didn’t know what to say. Lou’s story was the first he had actually heard. Vampire’s backstories were never a priority to learn about growing up. They weren’t supposed to live long enough to even know their names. 

Lou broke the silence again, slightly pivoting the subject, “you said his girlfriend turned him?”

“Yeah.” 

He raised his eyebrows at Jake, “He’s lucky, you know, to have someone help him through the transition. Most of us don’t get that.” 

“I wouldn’t call being forced to be turned ‘lucky’,” Jake grumbled. 

“He was forced? By her?” Lou’s brows knitted together in a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

“No, not by her, but he, uh, pissed off the ‘Council’ and it was either get turned or…death,” Jake gripped his glass a little tighter as he spoke. 

Lou made a face at the mention of the Council. He knew enough about them, though he had never dealt with any of the members personally. 

“The fucking Council, of course,” he rolled his eyes and took another sip. 

As if a dam in his mind had broken, Jake started rambling, “the first time I saw him afterwards, he didn’t look different but he looked different, if that makes any sense. He walked differently? He always stomped around the house growing up with those flat feet of his, but that night I could barely hear his shoes on the floor. I hugged him, and for a few seconds…things felt normal…but I couldn’t just carry on as if nothing had happened. Everyone else in the room as if it was a regular Tuesday night. My other brother was sitting on the couch next to him, asking him question after question as if he had just come back from a stupid vacation. They were all Vampire questions, harmless ones, but even then no one was acknowledging the elephant in the fucking room. Like we weren’t going to talk about the fact that he’s dead now, but he’s not really dead, but he can’t go out into the sun anymore, and-” 

The grip Jake had on his glass was getting to the point where he was about to break it, and Lou wisely reached over and wrenched it out of his hand before that could happen. 

“Let's not break anything tonight…,” he said as he placed the glass out of Jake’s reach for the time being. 

Jake flexed his fingers before setting his hand back down on the bar, his gaze fixed on the wooden surface. His nose twitched, the heat rising in his face and he felt his eyes start to sting. His voice was much softer when he observed, “he has to live off blood now…and that’s it. I know Vampires don’t eat actual food, and he won’t either and…this sounds so stupid but I’ll never be able to share a meal with him again.” 

Lou’s face was riddled in sympathy, and his voice was equally as sympathetic, “yes you can, Jake. His plate will just look a little different is all.” 

“It’ll just be a glass,” he snarked as a defense mechanism,  trying to hide  any emotions bubbling up to the surface. 

“Then it’ll just be a glass. But he’ll still be there. Sitting with you just like I am right now.”

“What am I supposed to do, stock my fridge with blood bags now just in case he comes over?”

“That would be the courteous thing to do.” 

Jake finally looked up at Lou again, “how do you even get blood bags anyway?” 

“Would you believe, we Vampires have a delivery service?”

The hunter gave Lou a blank stare, “...what?”

Lou chuckled, “yeah, it's a whole network here in the states. There’s a number to call and they set you up with a schedule if you want it. Instead of the MilkMan showing up at dawn, it's the BloodMan showing up at dusk, leaving a cooler at your door.”

Jake didn’t find it as funny as Lou did, “that’s…different.” 

“It's not as popular as you think, most prefer their dinner a little more Rare, as you know. But it’s helpful for the introverts out there.”

“...do you use it?” 

“For the most part, but I mainly use it so CiCi can have her own stock on hand. BYOB, as the kids say.”

Jake blinked at him, trying to digest this information. 

The Vampire went back to the subject at hand, “But what I’m saying, Jake, is that he’s still your brother, differences and all. It’s a lot, I know, and it won’t be easy to get used to, but being ‘normal’ like you said everyone else was the other night, is exactly what he needs. Don’t treat him differently. It's pretty rare for newly turned Vampires to even see their family again, let alone stay in their lives. You have a gift on your hands and you don’t even know it.” 

Jake chewed his lip, he hadn’t thought about it that way. 

His voice was soft, nearly a whisper, “I…I want to do all of that, I really do it’s just…I’ve never looked at a Vampire with any other thought than to finish them off as soon as possible. Ever since I saw one for the first time when I was a kid, they’ve just been anonymous monsters that I needed to get rid of.” 

“Not to state the obvious, but maybe it’s time you reevaluated that.”

Jake was quiet, trying to absorb it all. But one truth was still lingering in his mind. 

“The thing is, even if I stop, I know that Josh is now going to be a target for other hunters out there. Even if he’s good, even if he doesn’t make a mess, keeps his head down, I know some personally that wouldn’t hesitate to-,” he bit his lip hard, not wanting to finish the sentence. “The fact that he was a hunter that was turned, and turned willingly, makes him an even bigger target than just a regular Vampire.”

“To me, it sounds like you’re the perfect person to use this knowledge and to protect him as much as you can. You know how they move, where they go, and whatever tells and patterns they have. Use it to your advantage, remind him to do the same.” 

Jake was emotionally drained at this point, but Lou made a great point there. 

He nodded, “that makes sense. Umm thanks for the talk, Lou.”

Lou shrugged, “you know where I’m at if you need to talk again.” 

Jake nodded again, and hopped off the stool. He wordlessly made his way to the corner of the room where the stairs to the rooms above the bar were. More specifically, where he and CiCi lived. He needed some quiet now, and he needed to think about what he was going to do next in his life, and what that meant for Josh. 

~!~

It was your fourth night at the Chicago Den, and true to the itinerary, each subsequent night led to more and more Vampire’s populating the VIP section. Both you and Josh were a little timid at first, but so far everyone had pleasant, even if they were overly curious about Josh. He fielded questions with ease, his natural charm coming out instantly. Everyone still had intact fingers, though every once and awhile you’d make eye contact with your Vampire across the VIP section and pull back one of your fingers just to make him laugh. 

His drink of choice now, a tequila and soda with a splash of B-Positive and a lime, was resting in his hand as he listened to a Vampire you couldn’t remember the name of droned on and on about his last trip to the south of France. He was holding his own very well, and you were comfortable enough to not have to be right beside him the whole night. Your own charm carried you around the VIP section, and after asking nicely and  batting  your eyes  at the security guard at the bottom of the steps, you were allowed to follow a few of your new friends out onto the dance floor. It felt so…normal to you. Being surrounded by other Vampires, the various Human Companions, being able to look up and catch your lover’s eye whenever you wanted, in a world that was entirely yours. While the circumstances that led you here were troubling, being able to exist and experience all of this with Josh had you focusing on them less and less. 

However, while you were enjoying yourself, the lover in question was getting more and more irritated by the minute. Josh is the last person you’d describe as clingy or even worse, needy. But ever since your night had begun, you had been distracted by nearly everything and everyone else besides him. Mingling with everyone you came into contact with, greeting anyone new and introducing yourself quickly. Swapping stories while you sipped your drink, occasionally making eye contact with him, but otherwise left him to his own devices. Which isn’t a problem, but if he had to hear one more Vampire reminisce over a time period over a hundred years ago he was going to try that finger trick you mentioned on someone. 

It was your last night in Chicago, and before dawn the two of you would be whisked away on Dimitri’s jet to your next destination: Seattle. He liked the Chicago Den well enough, but he was ready to see what else was out there. 

He looked down at the dance floor, and saw you with a few of your friends. A few of them were old friends from a few decades ago when you were in Chicago last, and some were brand new but you had no problem befriending anyone. A thought briefly ran through his mind, that this was probably how you normally were before you met him. The version of you that wasn’t preoccupied with hunters being in your business, or following you around. The side of you that only other Vampire’s saw, where you were completely relaxed and not worried about protecting a fragile human. It had been a welcomed sight for him, he just wished he wasn’t watching from the sidelines all night. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a very tall man weave his way into the crowd towards you. Josh was instantly on alert, even though he knew you could handle yourself. He mentally cursed that even with his newly heightened sense of hearing he still couldn’t make out what was being said when he saw the man dip his head down to say something in your ear. You turned around excitedly and mouthed the word ‘really’ to the mystery man. Your face lit up as you loosely took a hold of his arm, letting him lead you out of the crowd and back towards the VIP section. What the fuck was going on? 

The security guard at the bottom of the steps stopped the both of you, which Josh was grateful for, until you waved your hand at the guard and pointed back at Mystery Man as you said something that Josh still couldn’t make out over the music pumping through the speakers. He drained the last of his drink, and slammed it on the table a little too hard as he stood up, but he didn’t care. 

You practically bounced up the stairs, Mystery Man following right behind you. 

“Josh, guess what!”

Josh looked at you curiously, his eyes darting back and from between you and your ‘guest’.

“What, sweetheart?” 

“So…since it’s our last night in Chicago, Dimitri sent us a…treat…,” your eyes swiveled up to the tall man. 

At the risk of asking a stupid question, he said, “What kind of treat?”

You smirked at your Vampire, “…a B-Positive one…”

Josh used every muscle in his face to not show his surprise. He did not want you to pick up on any inkling that he thought there was anything else going on with B-Positive Mystery Man. Nope. He would never live that down with you. Instead he rolled his lower lip into his mouth and raised his eyebrows to play it off. 

“I’m Alex,” Mystery Man said while extending his hand out to Josh. 

“Josh…,” he replied while shaking his hand. “Dimitri sent you?” 

Alex smiled sheepishly and explained, “yeah. I’m kind of a regular around here but I’ve never gotten a call from the boss himself, you know? Couldn’t say no to his opportunity.” 

Josh was a little skeptical, but played along, “I get that…” 

You wasted no time to pull Alex over to an empty spot on the VIP couch and sat down on his left. Josh followed and sat on the other side of him, and ‘treat’ aside, it still felt too far from you. 

“Now Alex, do you have any bite preferences?” You asked brightly. 

He turned and smiled at you, “most of the time it's usually the wrists but, you can go for the neck if you want.” 

The flirty tone in his voice was so obvious to Josh he had to fight an eye roll, but he silently hoped you’d turn it down. He wasn’t possessive, but you hadn’t fed from anyone’s neck besides him in the last few weeks, and part of him wasn’t ready to share you in that way. 

He didn’t have time to unpack whether this was some kind of Vampire social norm he was getting used to, because when he looked up you were nodding and descending towards Alex’s neck while your fangs lowered down. 

Alex kept his attention on you while he offered his wrist to Josh, and while he didn’t want to be impolite, Josh also wanted to shove his hand out of the way and walk out of there. 

Instead, he let the spite take over. His own fangs popped down a lot faster and harsher than they had previously, and he swiftly brought Alex’s wrist to his lips and bit down with little care. The first thing he noticed about Alex’s blood was how it was almost…minty. He was definitely B-Positive but in the four days he had been in that Den, Josh had had better samples of that type from the bar instead of this human. He looked up to catch a glance at you, while you happily dined on Alex’s neck. Alex himself had his head thrown back against the couch, which only made Josh burn hotter.

 Being fed on as a human versus being fed on as a Vampire wasn’t entirely different, but there was something so raw about offering yourself to a Vampire when you’re human. He remembered the first time he feld your fangs bury themselves in his skin, how it stung and burned but you fed from him in such a way that pleasure had rolled through his body within seconds. 

Josh continued to feed on Alex for a few more minutes before wrenching his wrist away from his mouth sloppily pricking his finger on his own fangs and healing the wound. He frankly couldn’t give a shit at this point, especially with how you were still latched onto Alex’s neck. Rather petulantly, he sat back with his hands in his lap, waiting for you to finish your “treat.” 

After the slowest five minutes of his life, you finally popped off of Alex and quickly wiped away a stray trail of blood from your chin with your thumb. 

You looked up as you healed the bite wound with your own blood and saw the hard stare coming from your Vampire. His sudden shift in mood confused you.

“Is something wrong, Boy Sc-”

“Can I talk to you,” he gave a sideways glance at Alex, “alone.” 

“I- sure,” and with that he reached over and took your hand, quickly leading you down the stairs and around the security guard, not even glancing back to see how your “treat” reacted. 

In every Den there are private rooms, soundproof and lockable for even more privacy. Some Vampire’s were weird about feeding in front of others, or they simply wanted proper alone time with their Human Companions, but Josh wasn’t thinking of their intended purpose now. He quickly weaved through the crowd to get to the back corner, where the private rooms were. The universe was on his side when he saw the door on the far left open, leading to an unoccupied room. He beelined towards it, rushing the two of you inside. 

“Josh what the-”

He turned and pushed you against the door, smashing his lips against yours. You let out a squeak in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers went into his hair. His hands moved down to your hips, gripping them through the thin fabric of your dress. Before you knew it you were swept off your feet and your legs locked around his waist. 

Clothing was practically ripped off on the way to the lone L-shaped couch in the middle of the room. Your back hit the plush cushions as your Vampire pinned you against them, his lips leaving a hot trail of kisses from your mouth down to the base of your neck. You weren’t complaining by any means, but you were curious as to why he had this sudden change in mood. Nothing felt wrong, but it was decidedly different from the norm. 

“J-Josh…wait a second,” you let out an airy laugh as you pulled his head from the crook of your neck to be above you, cradling his square jaw. 

He looked down at you, eyes dark and unblinking, “what?” 

You didn’t want to seem clueless, but you were truly at a loss, “what’s gotten into you tonight?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he quipped before giving the other side of your neck attention. 

“Yes you do,” you whispered in his ear. 

He turned his head slightly and ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “I can’t just love on my girl?”

Your retort was cut off when you felt his hand snake between you and start gliding through your folds, his thumb circling your clit while his other fingers dipped into your entrance. A loud gasp escaped your lips at the sudden feeling, and you felt him chuckle against your neck. 

“You were saying, Sweetheart?” 

He curled his fingers inside you, teasing all the right spots, causing you to clench around him and dig your nails into his back. 

But as soon as you started to feel that delicious build up in your core his fingers left you. 

“JOSH!” you yelled out in frustration. 

“Turn around…,” he whispered as he lifted off of you. 

You stared at him for a second before doing what he told you. Slowly you rolled over on your stomach, your back to him now. His hands reached for your hips once again but this time pulled them roughly off the couch, the skin on your knees burning slightly from the sudden movement. You rested your weight on your hands as you looked over your shoulder at him. 

His eyes were even darker then they were before, and they were gazing down your back as he slowly pumped himself. Deciding to play along, you faced forward, and rested your elbows on the arm of the couch. You felt the head of his cock move through your folds, dipping down to your clit before traveling back up to your entrance. Josh was mumbling behind you, words you couldn’t even make out as he slowly started pushing inside you. 

You hissed at the stretch, and when he reared back and surged forward to bottom out you didn’t even try to muffle the strangled sound that flew from your mouth. His nails dug into the skin of your hips as he set a brutal pace. 

Josh stared down at where you were joined, not wanting to take his eyes off the sight. He quickly got lost in you, the sounds you were making, the way you were clenching around him, the sheer warmth of you, the fact that you were his. At a particularly hard thrust he threw his head back and noticed what was on the ceiling: a massive mirror. His eyes became fixed at the reflection, where he could see more of your face, down your spine, to where he was pounding into you. 

He started mumbling again, but this time you were able to make out at least a few words out: mine, all mine. That's when it clicked. His attitude for most of the night, his reaction to Alex that he tried to hide, and why he pulled out into this room as soon as he could. Your Boy Scout was jealous. This was a side of him that you hadn’t seen very often, if at all at this point, but it made you turn your head completely away from him once more to smirk at yourself where he couldn’t see. Now you could fully play along. 

Looking back over your shoulder again, you saw him slack jawed staring at the mirror on the ceiling, his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“...am I yours, Josh?” you baited. 

A harsh growl was made in the place of words, accompanied by another hard thrust. He was getting close, and both of you knew it. He pulled you backwards, gathering you toward him so that your back was flush with his front, his breath coming out in puffs against your neck. 

This time he made no mistake with his words, whispering them directly into your ear. 

“Mine…all mine…” 

You turned your head to capture his lips with yours, letting him know that he was absolutely correct. Your hand tangled in his hair to hold him in place as your tongue swirled in his mouth and ran along his teeth, his fangs clearly present. 

He continued his fast pace as one of his hands held your hip while the other snaked around your front and made its way to your clit. You cried out against his mouth, and he took this moment to bite down on your lower lip, relishing in the sounds you were making. Neither of you cared how loud you were being, or how the sound of skin slapping against skin rang throughout the room. Your end came hurtling towards you, quickly sending you over the edge and shaking in his arms. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer himself, and just as he teetered on the edge he drove his fangs into the flesh of your neck. Letting the welcomed taste of you be the final act he needed before spilling inside you. His hand continued to work you through yours as his thrusts became uneven and started to slow. All he could feel, see, and hear was you. Even the memory that was shown to him at the taste of your blood was you all by yourself, sitting at your vanity touching up your lipstick in the mirror. The decor and dress you were wearing suggested the twenties, but the memory went dark before he could take in more details. He lifted his fangs from your skin as you both came down from your highs. Slowly he withdrew from you, the loss of your warmth making him hiss slightly. 

You turned around to fully look at him, and his arms wrapped around your waste, not wanting to let you go just yet. The both of you rested there for a few moments, enjoying the sudden silence. 

Eventually you brought your hand to his face, rubbing your thumb into his cheek. 

“I’ll always be yours, Boy Scout,” you whispered. 

He still didn’t look you in the eyes quite yet, the realization he had acted out of pure jealousy causing his cheeks to redden. 

“I know…,” he said so softly you barely heard him. 

“I’m not even going to remember Alex after tonight anyway,” you reassured him. 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t just him.” 

“Oh?” 

“I…just missed you tonight,” he finally looked up and met your eyes, his dark brown irises full of sincerity. 

“I’m sorry if I get a little caught up out there, it’s been a while-”

He cut you off, “no you don’t have to apologize, you were having fun and you deserve to.” 

“Next time, just come get me, push people out of the way if you have to. People will get over it.” You gave him a sweet kiss against his lips for reassurance. “Now…my turn…,” you grinned wickedly as you took this moment to properly pounce on your Vampire, toppling him onto the couch. 

~!~

Many rounds and hours later, you were both back at the hotel. The sun was about to rise, and the black out curtains were preemptively shut. Sleep quickly overtook you, and while you began to snooze, Josh peered down at you, loving the way you cuddled up to him as you slept. 

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, alerting him of a text. He looked over at the screen and saw Jake’s name at the top. 

Jake: is this a good time?

Josh typed out a response: sure

He was expecting another text, but instead his twin called him directly. 

“Hello?”

“Josh? Are you about to go to sleep? I can call back later if you-”

“No no it's fine, what's up?”

“I just wanted…how’s Chicago?” The tone in his voice sounded tight, as if he was unsure what to say. 

“It’s been pretty great, man. Not a bad place to start at all.” 

“That's good, I’m glad. How is…how is she?” 

Josh was starting to get confused at the sudden small talk, “what’s this about, Jake?

“It’s not about anything, I promise, I just…wanted to see how you were.” 

Josh looked back down at your sleeping form, fully knocked out at this point and beginning to snore slightly on his chest. 

“She’s good, Jake, really good. How’s CiCi?” 

Now it was Jake’s turn to look down at his girl, who was also still fast asleep beside him. 

“She’s CiCi, incredible as always.” Jake paused before asking what was truly on his mind, “I just have a question…and I’m not trying to start anything I promise I just…what made you do it?” 

“Do what, Jake?” 

“Choose to be turned instead of-”

“Instead of death, Jake?” 

Jake quietly answered, “yeah.”

“They were going to have her Meet the Sun, Jake. In front of me. I couldn’t let that happen.” The emotion he felt while sitting in Dimitri’s study crept up on him, as did the vision he had had of her burning in front of him. 

“You must think a lot of her, then.” 

Josh could tell what Jake was trying to do, in his own way. 

“I love her, Jake.” 

There was silence on Jake’s end, but he cut it off by saying, “does she feel the same?”

Josh drew patterns on your bare shoulder as he answered, “she absolutely does.” 

Jake tried to angle his phone away from his face to hide the sniff he made as he took in this information, but Josh heard it anyway. 

“Can I ask you a question now, Jake?” 

“Yeah.”

“What was the first thing you noticed about CiCi?” 

Jake was caught off guard now, not expecting this turn in the conversation. However, he instantly knew the answer.

“Her laugh. I had only been in her bar for about 5 minutes before I heard the most beautiful sound coming from across the room. She was making small talk with some customers and the way she commanded attention without even trying…I was mesmerized.” 

Josh smiled, having not known this little fact before, “and did it sound almost familiar to you?” 

“I suppose so?”

“That’s how I felt the night I met my girl, Jake. The familiarity.” 

“Really?”

“She was supposed to be a target, just a target, just a job. But when I walked into that bar that night, and saw her sitting in the corner, there was something about her. I knew, even if I didn’t want to admit it at the time, that she wasn’t going to be just a job. I didn’t know how or why, but I knew she was going to be something to me. I’ve never looked at a Vampire and felt that way before, and you of all people know that.” 

Jake nodded, “I’m umm…I’m glad you found someone, Josh. I mean that.”

Josh smiled softly, “I appreciate that, and I’m glad you did too.” 

There was another silence between the brothers, but this was a comfortable one. 

“I don’t mean to keep you up, I know the sun should be rising about now…”

“No it's ok, it’s good to hear from you, man. Call whenever you want.” 

“I will…talk to you soon…”

“Talk to you soon, Jake.” 

Jake hung up the phone and put it down before settling back into bed next to CiCi.

“...so, my laugh, huh?” She mumbled as she turned over to look at him. 

“How much of that did you hear?” 

“Enough,” she said before tracing the outline of his nose with her finger. 

Jake playfully rolled his eyes before gathering her in his arms, “go back to sleep.”

“Gladly.” 

To be continued….

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze ,

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #i see hell in your eyes #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x oc #enemies to lovers #slow burn #josh gvf #jake gvf #greta van fleet #my fics #my writing #🩸🖤

[cain-speaks]

🍭 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃 🍭 || Macaque x Reader Oneshot

» sweet tooth (cavetown) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader uses she/her and is a cat demon, so she has cat-like features/behaviors! ➤ Described the clothes but tried to keep it simple/vague so ppl could add more details if they'd like! ➤ BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SORRY. I kinda lost the plot a few times I think,, and I got super into the shadow story,, hope this is good!! Also sorry if I switched tenses at some point, it happens rip. Also also if the kiss scene is bad I'm so sorry, I'm awkward asf LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, referenced toxicity, and referenced murder. ➤ Word count: 3,494

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ A sweet tooth for you, I'm wide awake .❞

Your tail vibrates excitedly as the timer goes off, alerting you that the mango pudding is done chilling. Grinning widely, you almost run to your fridge, throwing open the door and crouching to pull the cool dessert out. You take a deep whiff as you wander back to the counter, shutting the fridge door with a bump of your hip. It smells heavily, and an experimental shake of the pan leads you to believe the sweet treat has successfully set.

You set down the mango pudding and turn to the dishes, rinsing them in the sink and leaving them in the basin to be thoroughly cleaned later. As you scratch a particularly stubborn splash of dried pudding from the whisk, you look over at your oven, squinting to read the numbers displayed.

5:47.

"Oh, cow-milk," you hiss under your breath, finishing up with the whisk and nearly tossing it into the basin.

I'm going to be late! you fret as you pull off your apron, throwing it upon the counter as you rush to your bedroom to pull on your outfit: a simple white turtleneck under a soft long-sleeve and high-waisted plaid pants, complemented with long socks and short, buckled heels. Once you finish with your outfit and additional accessories, you grab a basket on your way out of your room and quickly fill it with cutlery, cubed mangoes, sugar, and of course, the pudding.

You pause for a second, ears flicking about as you try to make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Your time is cut short as another alarm sings on your phone, titled Get The Fudge to Mac's!

You squeak, shoving your phone into your pocket and spinning on your heel as you race out of your home, narrowly keeping the basket from slapping against your side.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You're fairly certain the only reason Macaque doesn't snap at you slamming the dojo doors is because he heard you coming.

He's curled up on his couch, a hefty book in his lap—probably about something medicinal or floral if you had to guess. Your eyes flicker to his face, scowling as you see his signature smirk, golden-brown eyes scanning your hunched-over figure in amusement.

"Look what the cat dragged in," purrs the demon.

"You—hah—think you're soooo funny," you grit out, shuffling to the couch with a glare.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Macaque asks.

The monkey slaps his tail across your face before you can recite the "a" portion of your alphabetized list.

"How come you're so late today?" he teases. "Normally you're here before I am."

You roll your eyes and give a half-hearted bite to the demon's tail, barely grazing the fur, but he pulls it away with a narrowed gaze anyway. You give him a dramatically sweet face, fluttering your lashes as you set your basket on the table.

You make a lazy gesture at it. "I made something for us."

"Oh?" Macaque asks, cocking an eyebrow. "How romantic, starlight."

For a split second, you consider letting your embarrassment at the implication get to you. But then you decide if Macaque wants to be a little evil, you may as well join him.

"Only the best for you, moonflower," you coo back, revelling in the way the black-furred monkey's face heats up around his spiked mask. You immediately laugh at his blush, far more elated at your ability to fluster the stoic demon than you think is normal, adoring the way his ears wiggle as though trying to hide his face.

"Laugh it up, kitty," he grumbles, reaching out for the basket.

You lunge forward and smack his hand before his claw tips so much as brush the handles. "Nu-uh! That's for after dinner, loser."

Macaque frowns and squints at you, shaking his hand and blowing on it in classic dramatic theater kid fashion. "What are you, five?"

"Out of five~!" You sing-song, scooping up the basket as you jump to your feet. "Now get cooking, Macaroni."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

When Macaque announces the food's almost done, you decide to raid his wardrobe for pajamas.

You zoom up the stairs before he can say a word, but to your surprise, he doesn't make so much as a sigh as your thundering footsteps fade into his room.

It's weird. Normally Macaque always whines about you snagging his clothes, complaining about the pastry stains or endless amounts of cat hair that ends up on them—which is a small price to pay when you're constantly making him yummy treats! But tonight he's oddly quiet.

Come to think of it... he's been acting off for a while.

You noticed it last month. Your time spent with the monkey had turned more physical—training, teaching you how to make certain foods, dancing, cuddling. And amongst his standard sarcasm and snark, he was complimenting you a lot more, too. You'd even started finding little trinkets around your house! So unless some other purple-coded weirdo was breaking into your house to leave you jewelry and pretty flowers, it had to be Macaque.

But on the other hand, Macaque seemed to be... distancing himself. A canceled plan here and there, an excuse to leave the room every now and then, a strange new sense of secrecy within the demon, as though he was guarding something from you. As if he was afraid of you coming too close all over again.

It was so confusing. If you allowed yourself to consider that the demon had fallen for you of all people, what were you supposed to make of his behavior? That he hated the idea of loving you so much that he was deciding between making a game of it or completely pushing you away?

The thought strikes you right in the chest, your bottom lip falling victim to your sharp teeth.

Just recently you'd come to terms with just how much you really like the monkey—how much you love the sound of his voice and the way he drags you into trouble and his devotedness to you as a friend. It'd been an earth-shattering realization, really, one that left you tossing and turning in bed and damn near ripping your fur out.

How could you be blamed? Macaque was hardened like stone in the aftermath of his past, resulting in a closed-off and apathetic creature, a lone wolf in spite of his nature. It'd taken so, so much time and patience to get to where you two were now, laughing and poking fun at each other in his dojo, his safespace.

The last thing you want is to lose everything because your silly heart loves tragedies.

"Starlight!" Macaque's sharp call comes from downstairs, making you jump. "The hell are you doing? I said dinner's done!"

"Ack—I'm coming, just a minute!"

You quickly throw on a loose shirt and shorts, struggling a bit with the hole for your tail before finally settling the limb and bounding out of the room. Immediately, an aroma of deliciousness hits your nose. You almost stumble down the stairs due to the distraction, righting yourself with an embarrassed flush (boy, are you glad Macaque didn't see that) and carefully making your way into the kitchen.

Your eyes widen at what you see. A large bowl of chǎofàn sits at the table, neighbored by a plate of tángcù lǐjǐ and another of xiǎolóngbāo. The scent is divine, and you would call the meal a gift from Buddha if it weren't for the smirking demon leaning against the counter.

"Like what you see?" he asks cockily, tail sweeping against the ground in a lazy sway.

"No way you just made all of this!" you exclaim, grinning.

"Maybe I'm just that good," replies the black-furred monkey with a wink, fetching two plates and some silverware out of various cupboards and drawers.

"Not that good," you snort, fetching your basket from the fridge. "Come on, what's the trick this time, moonflower?"

The demon falls strangely silent at your question. You raise an eyebrow at his back, waiting for a response. Finally, in an uncharacteristically small voice, Macaque says, "I've been preparing."

There's more to it. There's definitely more to it, but you won't push.

You set the basket down on the floor and take the plate held out to you, happily filling it up before moving to your seat. Macaque joins you on the opposite side, silent save for the short scraping sound of silverware against glass. The uncomfortable silence threatens to spoil your appetite, and you spend a few quiet minutes praying that the demon across from you will say something.

"Is it good?"

Thank Buddha, you think, immediately put at ease to hear his voice.

"Duh," you say, swallowing another forkful of delicious food. "Your cooking is some of the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?" Macaque leans forward on his elbows, hands laced under his chin, and you feel your face warm ever-so-slightly. "Then where do I rank, starlight?"

"Top ten at least," you tease, reaching for more chǎofàn. Macaque unlaces a hand to pick up the bowl and pass it to you.

"At least," he chuckles. "Well, eat up. I have a play to put on."

"A play?" You repeat, cheeks round with rice.

Macaque nods. "Yes." Quickly, he adds, "for you."

You very nearly make a quip about the romance of dinner and a show, but seeing his tail tense and thud against the floor makes you reconsider.

Instead, you smile. "I'll be there."

The monkey snorts. "Better be. If you stand me up for rice and chicken, I'll never make it again."

You fake an angry grumble. "Don't you have to go prepare, smart guy?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he says, simply at first. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, yes! I have to—there are things I have to—I'm going now." Macaque cuts his rambling short and just barely avoids sprinting out of the kitchen like his tail is on fire.

"Don't—" you cringe at the sound of something falling, followed by a quiet yelp. "—hurt yourself on the way out..."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You sit amongst soft blankets and pillows, tails curled around your knees as you wait for the play to start. The light of Macaque's lantern bathes the dojo in a violet hue, shadows dancing with the sway of the lantern as Macaque gets into position. The monkey's innate shadow powers and connection to the lantern make it easy to manipulate it and the dark for his purposes, so part of you is confused that Macaque settles himself so far away from you. You reason that maybe the demon's just feeling extra dramatic for this story.

Or maybe this is it, you think.

Even if you don't know what that means.

"Welcome viewer, to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen."

You smile at the signature opening line, a soft purr rumbling in your throat as you listen closely, ears perked in Macaque's direction.

"Here we follow another tale about the tragic Warrior." Macaque's voice reverberates around you, and you watch as a simplified silhouette of hi—ahem, "the warrior" manifests from the shadows. "Though this story is unlike the others—for instead of our Warrior bearing yet another arduous chapter of life, perhaps he has found his happy end.

"Everyone knows the tale of how the Sun came to betray the Moon. But what very few have to come to learn is that it was the moon that brought on such a tragedy. You see, many centuries ago, the Moon could only see their dark side—blemished, indecipherable, and lacking in light. So often the moon thought of their dark side and wept, believing that if it was all they saw, it was all anyone could see. And then the Moon realized something. They were the Sun's only companion, their only friend, so surely, surely, the Sun would give their light to them.

"And at first, the Sun did everything they could to show the Moon just how bright they could be. The Sun taught the Moon everything they knew, and the Moon took that knowledge and taught it to others, becoming a beloved warrior. And when the Moon became the Warrior, they changed the Sun into a Hero—a well-shaped, perfect vessel of holiness and goodness.

"The Sun allowed for this because they loved the Warrior, so they locked themselves within the Hero. And while the Warrior loved the Hero very much, they were so blinded by the love of their light that they didn't see what they were doing to their beloved Sun.

"Years passed and the Warrior had taken almost every bit of sunlight. Only their heart and a small sliver remained, which the Sun branded on to the Hero's golden cudgel and hid beneath stone so the Warrior could not find it. This angered the Warrior, who still could not see what they'd done to the Sun, for they were so hidden within the Hero. He said, "my hero! Why do you hide your light from me? Is it not mine, too? Have I not helped you shine?"

"The Hero replied, "I hide nothing from you, my Warrior, certainly not our light. I simply have no more to give you."

"The Warrior was displeased, and this displeasure, coupled with the dimming Sun, poisoned their light until nothing remained but a thin halo around the two of them.

"This terrified the Warrior—to see that they were so close to becoming the Moon again, so close to being consumed by their dark side, that they demanded the Hero give them their heart. Only this time, the Hero refused.

""You are not a hero," spat the Warrior. "And you are no longer a warrior," whispered the Hero. The Warrior was so angry, so enraged, that they attempted to swallow the Sun itself. They peeled away the Hero's stone body to reveal the blazing heart beneath, fully intent to rob them of every last bit of light they had, even if it meant they'd never shine again.

"The Sun broke free of the Hero's perfect body, and, using the light on the golden cudgel, banished the Warrior to a place of no light. No stars. No song. Only darkness.

"A place where the Warrior and the Moon would blend in perfectly."

While you've never heard the story portrayed this way, you find it heartbreakingly easy to tell he's talking about his death and descent into Diyu. You fiddle with your hands, pressing on the paw pads as you stare, watching the Warrior turn into wisps as a glowing mass of shadows (the Sun?) forms into a tendril and strikes them.

It's almost too much to watch, your brain caught up in what preceded Macaque's death. Is this why he's been so nervous? It would make sense—the version of the tale makes him vulnerable to say the least, and it's oozing with painful, regretful honesty. Macaque may not be a liar, but the truth has never been easy for him.

The scene changes, shifting in a quick montage.

"For centuries, the Warrior rotted in their anger and sorrow. So angry were they that they allowed themselves to be hung from strings like a simple puppet, used as a weapon to harm undeserving victims."

Flashes of burned and otherwise destroyed villages wrap around the dojo, all with a chained Macaque hovering above, eyes burning. The last image you recognize as the Monkie Kid and his group. A shadowy tendril wraps around the kid's limbs, attached to him in a similar way to Macaque's chains. Your stomach twists.

"Even when the Warrior finally forgoed their wrath and reconciled with the Sun, they still could not find it in them to shine. They'd ruined the Moon many years ago, and now the Warrior was ruined, too.

"...or so they thought. One day, the Warrior came across a maiden. She was gentle and wild, comforting and unapologetic, unwavering and bold. She was a river, a storm, a mountain who stood unblinking before the weight of the Warrior's darkness.

"The Warrior thought they were doomed to break her, as they so often did to strong things. But then the Maiden produced a mooncake from her robes, split it in half, and said, "Would you share this treat with me, O' weary Warrior?""

A feminine silhouette appears before the Warrior, dressed in a flowing hanfu and flowers. Most interestingly, the Maiden has tufted ears and a long, fluffy tail just like—

Your face erupts in a shocked blush as understanding dawns on you. The first time you met Macaque, you'd been out selling mooncakes. It'd been a good day, and by the end you had a single treat left, which you fully intended to scarf down while watching the sun set. But then you'd seen Macaque, leaning against a bridge and watching the reflection of the sun in the river, and he just looked so sad, you thought a mooncake would add a little brightness to his face.

A pity cake it might have been, but you think it was one of the best pity cakes you've ever had.

"The Warrior took the Maiden's gift. Together, the two ate at their cakes until they were naught but crumbs and the sun had long set. Before they parted, the Maiden smiled at the Warrior.

"And the Warrior glowed.

"The Warrior glowed so bright that moonlight shown through the cracks in their skin, that stars came down to twinkle in their fur and they could hear the sweetest dreams whispering in their ears, and all they said was "Mooncake Maiden" over and over again, for the Warrior had finally found someone to glow for, not because of."

You almost bust out laughing, a mix of adoration, shock, and amusement bubbling in your chest. "Mooncake Maiden", huh? Maybe you should start a business.

"For weeks, the Warrior and the Maiden continued to meet. The Warrior continued to glow, feeling more and more like the great warrior they once were. They even began to think of themselves as the moon again, not as an imperfect surface, but as a new vast and complicated world, one they wanted to explore by the side of the Maiden. All they had to do was ask her."

The shadows merge into a single ball, gliding towards you and settling before you. The ball reforms, revealing Macaque kneeling in front of you, your hands held gently in his. But what really catches your eye is his glamor—or lack thereof. His six ears, the reason for his namesake, unfurl from his head like flower petals, glowing shades of blue, pink, and purple that illuminate both of your faces. His fangs elongate past his bottom lip and a white halo of fur surrounds his face, shimmering in the gentle light.

His eye, blind though it may be, is milky and spotted like the bright side of the moon and you can't help but think it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"And now to discover how this story ends," he says softly.

"Macaque—" you begin, only to fall silent when he squeezes your hands.

"I know I'm not a hero," Macaque says. "I think I might always be a little evil—a trickster, a bit of a thief, a bully every now and then; a shadow of something good. But you make me feel... real. Like I can be something more, something people can love and adore without getting hurt, and I haven't felt that in a long, long time, starlight."

You blink, feeling something wet tease the corner of your eyes. Your heart thumps in your chest, tail unfurling from your knees and reaching out. Macaque meets it halfway and they curl around each other like ribbons.

"I love you," whispers the Six-Eared Macaque. Louder, he says it again, and you shiver when he says your name. "I love you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours for eternity."

Your mouth feels dry, your body nearly numb with—what, shock? Excitement? Happiness? Exhaustion because you're feeling all the things? Probably.

But still, your heart swells at the confession and your hands slip from his to cradle his face and you say, "I love you too, Macaque."

Macaque grins, eyes shining wetly. His hands go to your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. His ears flap against your hands for a second, and then he whispers, "can I kiss you?"

Your heart nearly explodes. But you give nothing away as you utter a soft, "yes."

You're not quite sure what to expect when his lips meet yours. Fireworks, or maybe like a puzzle piece is shifting into place. You think you can safely say you feel neither, but you do feel both of your growing smiles, until you're pulling away to laugh and Macaque follows suit.

When your giggles die down, you pet the demon's ears again. "You wanna have dessert now?"

The black-furred monkey huffs, leaning into your touch. "In a minute," he murmurs, and then he's bringing you back to his lips.

❝ I like you—say it back .❞

#cain speaks #[ 🧨 ] #cain writes #[ 🩸 ] #lmk liu er mihou #lmk six eared macaque #six eared macaque x reader #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n

[devilruin]

Invertito La Giustizia

Pairing — yandere capitano x gn reader

Summary — you've never been disloyal to the tsaritsa — you have never stepped out of line, caused trouble, or tarnished her ideals, because you know better than anyone else that the one time you do will be the last.

Warnings — general yandere warnings, mild violence, vague mentions of captivity

Post Type — full length work

Word Count — 1.7k

Author’s Comments — (capitano lovers come get your food!) who's a fatui fucker? yep that's right it's me. please hyv let him use the electro skirmisher model…

Within Zapolyarny Palace, there are many secret passageways. Some lead outside towards the night market, while others lead deeper into the ice, evermore closer to celestial blasphemy. Each corridor looks the same — tall icy walls, with the occasional hanging lamp for light — and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up walking in circles for hours on end. These uniform halls serve a dual purpose as a maze for those led astray (often with negative intentions), and as a trap for foolish trespassers. Which is why Her Royal Highness had all the written records of this frozen labyrinth destroyed long ago. 

“These stupidly complex passageways are going to be the death of me I swear…”, letting out a deep sigh, you press your back against one of the frozen walls, and slowly sink to the floor. Being a low-ranking member of the Fatui had its perks — a tidy place to stay with regular warm meals and hundreds of people to socialize with is hard to pass up as an orphan. Yet in all of your years here, the only friend you have is Alyona. 

Alyona, the absentee.

The chilly wind has your teeth clattering against each other, and you click your tongue in irritation. Anger fuels the strength in your legs, and you quickly stand, ready to move at a moment’s notice. You take two steps forwards before your left knee buckles under you, leaving you kneeling at the foot of a lamp. The candle’s flame sways languidly, almost as if it’s laughing at your predicament.

“I swear once I find her…!” , your gloved hands bundle into fists, stretching the thick leather till it cracks, yet you’re far too ticked off to care. Just the idea of wandering around these identical pathways for another two hours, looking for Alyona in a frozen maze, makes your blood boil with rage. Why do you have to be the one to find her again? She’s always ‘missing’ from her squadron anyway, so why do they care where she is now? Another deep sigh drags through your lips, as giving up was never an option — your legs follow your mind’s order to ‘get up and continue searching’. 

The deep passageways begin to merge and dissipate within the blink of an eye. 

“Tsaritsa, I wish I had a map. It’s so annoying to crawl around like a mindless cockroach. There’s nothing special about this place anyway, so I don’t see why — oof!” A sudden impact cuts off your stream of complaints. Whatever hit you was far too warm to be a wall, yet before you can turn to identify the object, it latches onto you with incredible force.

“There you are [First]!” It’s Alyona, her eyes brimming with excitement as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I was looking all over for you, you know?”, she bats her eyes and teasingly squeezes your upper arm, hoping to get a reaction.

Even though you’re exhausted and irked beyond belief, you gladly welcome her affection with a light chuckle. “That’s my line, you troublemaker! Honestly, do you even know how…” Half-heartedly, you ‌begin to give her a piece of your mind when a calm, deep voice beats you to it. 

“What are you two doing here?” 

Immediately Alyona and you stand as straight as a board. In front of you is one of the eleven harbingers — larger-than-life figures that run the Fatui like a well-oiled machine. There’s no telling what consequences might follow should you disrespect them.

“Lord Capitano, sir!”, even though your voice is still slightly hoarse from yelling, you salute first, and Alyona messily copies your action. Like a child mimicking their parent, the results are sloppy: she holds her elbow too high (it should have been level with her shoulders) and the cleanliness of her suit leaves much to be desired. Still, she hurriedly follows your actions. The two of you hold the salute like sculptures, and as your lungs burn from holding your breath, the primal urge to flee swims through your fear-induced mind. Out of all the people you could have run into, it just had to be him; ‘The Captain’ of the Fatui. As the main military leader within the Fatui, he’s well respected for his decisiveness in the field, and strategic planning off the field. To see his imposing figure standing before you, scanning your face for any traitorous signs, sends ripples of shame down your spine.

Capitano seems unimpressed by your demonstration of a proper Fatui salute, having seen an actual one at least a few dozen times per day, and moves closer instead.

“I’ll ask again.”, this time his voice is still, and the pressure he gives out is suffocating. The air around you feels thin, making you gasp for oxygen in the enclosed space. “What are the two of you doing here?”

His tone of voice clarifies that there’s no room for lies; there’s no way to worm the two of you out of this one. Your only choice is to confess, to tell him that the two of you were…

Alyona quickly lifts her head to respond, “[First] and I were heading towards the barracks, sir!” Willingly, she places the spotlight on herself — confidence oozing out of her every pore — choosing to burden herself with a major role. Like an actress on stage, she must recite her lines perfectly, as a single mistake would reveal her little performance. 

Capitano’s eyes seem to crinkle behind the darkness of his mask, and as he shifts his weight to one side, his head slowly rocks back and forth. At this moment, he has become a judge within this court of ice. One of his arms smoothly crosses itself over his torso, his large palm wrapping around his upper arm as he silently considers the validity of her statement.

“Were you now?”, his feet twitch with every syllable, almost as if the deadliest poison laces his words. He’s undoubtedly displeased with your behavior, and you’re positive that he is silently ruminating on your demise. The palpable tension in the air coils around your neck, threatening to squeeze out what little breath you still have. Yet before the depths of terror can swallow you whole, there’s a slight tug at the hem of your jacket. Alyona’s small, shaking hand had reached out and grabbed you, reminding you of the most important fact: you’re not alone. 

Courage bubbles up from deep with you, helping you find the resolve to look directly into his eyes and respond. “Yes, we were sir!”, your words come out clear, like a cleanly cut crystal. It’s a stark contrast to Alyona with her hidden right hand — still trembling from Capitano’s piercing gaze. His intense stare scrutinizes the both of you, skeptical of your true intentions.

He won’t fall for it. He knows better than to place his trust in the words of lowly grunts.

“Then…”, he pauses, visibly disappointed with your reactions, “Why are you in the Eastern Wing of the palace when the barracks are in the South Wing, Sergeant Alyona and Sergeant [First]?”, it’s only a single sentence, yet it rips away all forms of security. 

You had lied. 

To him.

Neither of you can formulate a response that will save you from the hole you’ve dug. The best that you can do is buy time with your stammering. “That is…”, you really wished you could come up with something, anything, to placate his anger. Yet, all excuses fell short on your tongue.

“Do you have no explanation for your actions, including answering a commanding officer dishonestly?” Capitano throws out one last line — morally thinner than a strand of spider silk — for either of you to hold on to. It’s a meager attempt at fishing out the truth, yet it’s painstakingly obvious that it does not matter.

“I see… very well, then.”, his baritone voice reverberates within the confined space. Mind evidently made up as he strides into your personal space. Before either of you can react, a wide, black gloved hand snaps upwards, harshly grabbing Alyona’s upper arm.

“I will tell Pantalone to transfer Sergeant Alyona to Sandrone immediately.” Alyona’s legs lock into place, while her eyes frantically shift around, looking for a way to escape from his clutches. 

“My Lord, you couldn’t possibly mean…!”

“You have tarnished the honor of the Fatui far too many times, Alyona Chepliev.” There’s no room for arguing with him, and instead of wasting her breath on excuses, she spins on her heel to face you.

“[First]! Help me, I don’t want to go to Lady Sandrone! She’s…” Yet before she can finish her pleading, an agile chop connects with the side of her neck, and knocks her unconscious. Capitano barely spares her a glance as he throws her inanimate body over his left shoulder.

“As for you…”, he silently trails off, obviously contemplating what horrible designation he should assign to you. He could leave you with Il Dottore, where he would subject you to a myriad of gruesome experiments. Or he may throw you into the hands of Pierro, who will exploit your every weakness in the name of ‘victory’. Either way, you’re doomed.

“From now on,” your teeth grind against each other in anticipation, “You will be under my command.” Your disbelief is in bold letters across your face, as you crane your head upwards with a matching pair of full-blown eyes and a slack jaw.

Capitano takes your silence as acknowledgement of his judgment, still walking a few feet ahead of you, when he continues his verdict on your transgressions.

"I will thoroughly embed the meaning of honor, to both oneself and one’s god, into you. Once you are free from the confines of your weaknesses, then I will acknowledge you as one of mine.”

“However, know this Sergeant [First]…”, swiftly, he turns on his heel, coming face-to-face with you in a blink of an eye. The encompassing air stills for a moment, sending a biting chill through your veins. One of his clawed fingers reaches out, quietly stroking the apple of your right cheek. He’s close enough to see and feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, yet it brings no comfort to your shaking figure as he gives you one final warning.

“There will be no second chances.”

© 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤(𝐬) 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤(𝐬) 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐈 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨) 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

#✒️— syl writes #🫀 — full-length #🩸 — capitano #gn reader #tw;captive #tw;darkcontent #tw;violence #tw;yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader #yandere genshin x reader

[lounaticm]

Do you have any headcanons for what pet names the egos like? Like, what do they like to call their S/O, and what do they like to be called? Specifically Damien, Dark, Engineer, Murdock, Illinois, and Yancy?

Oh, I love nicknames/pet names so damn much! Hell yeah, I've got some. Although, for the most part, I don't have much in the way of nicknames/pet names to call them. (Not for lack of trying to come up with some that are fitting and sound good. 😅)

Damien/Dark

Little Monster

Dear/my dear/dearest

Darling

sometimes uses 'my love' or 'my heart', if he's feeling particularly romantic and mushy

Adores any sort of diminutive derived from his given name, like Dames or Damie, but also loves being called by any of those same types of 'old fashioned' pet names that he likes using for his significant other.

Engineer

Captain/Cap (which might as well be their name at this point, lol)

due to the abundance of their title being used (both by him and others) will instead call them by given name when it's just them or when they're 'off duty'.

Call him 'my engineer' and you very well might make him combust. Not 'my Head Engineer', which is tied up in his station and duties on the ship. The Captain's Engineer.

Murdock

Angel

may occasionally use 'sweetheart'

Call this man by any sort of sweet nickname or pet name and you will make him so damn soft. Is exceptionally fond of being called Mur.

Illinois

Darlin'

Sweetheart

Partner (though it can be hard to tell if he means it in a platonic or romantic way)

Literally the only way to make this man blush is to be genuinely sweet and caring towards him. Call him something saccharine like 'hon/honey' or the like, and next thing you see will be him trying valiantly - and failing - to hide behind his hat.

Yancy

Doll/Dollface (regardless of gender, though he'll stop if it's not to his partner's comfort or liking)

Handsome and/or beautiful (one, the other, or both stated in that exact manner, depending on what you express your preference to be, lol)

Yance, Yancy-pants, or anything equally silly or cute to do with his name, or anything sweet and soft will turn this man into putty in your hands.

@kiwibubbles5

#lou's writing #voices from the abyss #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #mayor damien #engineer mark #iswm murdock #murderiplier #murdock kilbourne #ahwm illinois #illinois jones #ahwm yancy #wkm #ahwm #iswm #beloved void man 🖤 #beloved mayor 💙🖤 #engie 🚀 #murder man 🩸 #adventure man 🍋 #jailbird 🎼

[hell-hospital]

not having you right next to me, not having you within my sight, for over 30 minutes alone is pure torture. I need you here. Right now. I want to have you. I want to keep you. I'll take good care of you just let me KEEP YOU.

YOU'RE MINE.

#💉🩸;; my writing #💉🩸;; obsessive love #💉🩸;; cnc stalking #actually obsessive #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #obslove #cnc stalking #cnc kidnapping #autoassassinophilia #paraphiles please interact #pro paraphile #paraphile

[theangelcatalogue]

POOR LONELY GIRL (ISTL) || ★!

Prologue!

Romantic!

Gender Neutral!

First victim: Beth!

Welcome back to Island of the lovesickness, love.

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, BLOOD, SCARS, GHOSTS, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR! YOU DON'T NEED TO READ! (Tell me if i missed something)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Poor lonely girl

In a cruel world

Beth was a lonely girl, she dind't had many friends, maybe she dind't had one.

A real friend, a person that she could cry in the shoulder, that would say to her

" Everything will be alright...! "

Maybe because of her looks! Maybe because of her personality? Oh to have anyone by her side!

But, she found you! And to be honest you are the only good thing is this island!

In these few days with you, she felt she could count with you! You always help her and dont't judge her! And better: You didn't think she is annoying!

And when you found her body, you looked like the only one that really cared about her

And you really confroted Chris!

How she knows that? She is always watching.

Most of the time she is in the cave, but she likes to walk at the florest as well, she found her arm, and uses him to make some type of trap to anyone

Any curious that will investigate is unlucky, she won't kill them i think, but a little scare won't hurt!

But when she was walking around the island, like the lonely ghost she is, she found you...

Walking with Chris and other two persons she dind't knew

Happy! She thought she would never find you again! Oh the others have to know that! Oh yes!

She needs to talk with you!

She needs to have you.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

This island is giving me the chills, why we had to come at night!? It would hurt wait for the sun to shine?? I feel like in a horror movie

" Does Chris even know what is he doing!? We are lost? "

Sierra, me and Alejandro walked behind Chris, and no Sierra dear, he doesn't know what that fuck he is doing

" No i think, we are just walking around, i feel like we are walking makes years! "

" We are walking makes just one hour, where Chris is trying to go? "

Alejandro was just confused as me and Sierra, Chris i swear for god if we are lost i am going to kill you....

Wait, i know this path we are going to the cave where...

Chris what is your plan? I started to remember of Beth body, a axe close to her and a missing arm, now i remember of other details like her face was full of scars and her legs were hurt, i really don't want to remember that

Now we are in front of the cave, that's not good

" Okay! We just have to go inside this cave and find....what was her name? "

" Beth! "

" Oh yeah! Beth's body! Let's go! We have job to do! Can't be lazy now uh? "

When you say " We " you meant me, Sierra and Alejandro right? Because you? You would be the first one to run away! You already did this

" Are you really his Counsin? "

Alejandro asked to me, i don't know it's a real question, sarcasm or another thing

" Man, i have my doubts "

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Walking around the cave was something, i was getting nervous with any sound, and Beth's body wasn't there! I don't know what happend to it and i don't really want to know! But at same time i want to know!

God, kill me already

I heard something, steps

But not mine, Chris's , Alejandro's or Sierra's steps, no

Something or someone was here

I walked scared, i just want to go home, please get me out of here! I walked and walked and realised

I am alone, where is everyone? I got separated of them and dind't noticed!?

I looked around for them, missing a heart beat, i am alone, i am lost!? Oh no! No! No! No! NO!

" Y/N...? Is that really you? "

A voice, this voice... i know this voice! But...

It's really her?

I look behind me, there she is

Scars on her face and legs, missing glasses, and a lost arm

I wanted to say something, do something, but i was too surprised to do that, scared and maybe confused

" I KNEW IT WAS REALLY YOU! I told them that i saw you! But they dind't belived me! Oh i am so happy to see you! "

Beth said in a happy tone, she was happy to see me? Wow, i am shocked, i still totally quiet, really quiet, i can't say a word

" I was so lonely without you! I don't really interact with the others! I mean i try! But i don't think they are in the mood to talk, but that's doesn't matter! You here "

And she still talked, she was talking, and she was distracted

I don't know what happend but i started to run away, i feel like these stupid horror movies characters, but i was scared to act with calm

" Wait- Y/n? Y/N! WAIT! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE AGAIN! "

I don't know if she started to run too, i refused to look behind, please anyone help me

I started to run and run, i tried to be faster and faster, i was getting tired! Really tired

And then i saw, the exist! Thanks god!

I left the cave and i take a deep breath, i looked behind, yeah, i think she dind't tried to chase me

I think

" WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? "

" We got worried! "

I looked at them, Sierra and Alejandro were relieved and Chris...well i can't tell

Okay, should i tell the truth?

" Y/N! What happend? "

" I will explain later. "

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

✦ NOTES

✮ Damn that's bad ✮

✮ Wtf is that? Idk ✮

✮ Idk if i going to continue this, maybe make a remake? ✮

✮ Anyways ily you guys and ty for reading! <33

#hello :3 #yandere blog #yanderes #yandere total drama x reader #yandere total drama #yandere tdi x reader #yandere tdi #yandere iots #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #y/n x yandere #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere community #yandere #tw yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #total drama #tdi beth #idk tbh #idk what else to tag #✶⋆.˚ Island of the lovesickness 💌🩸 #✶⋆.˚ the angel catalogue 👼❔ #✶⋆.˚ sky 🪀

[ketsueki-writes]

for your COM event can i have bakugou whos yandere with a fem! reader fluff to like a open or confused but sad angst, im not sure how or exactly what i want but ik you will deliver

ᴀɴ: ʜɪ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ! ɪᴍ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ- ɪʟʟ ɢᴏ ꜰɪx ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ. (ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ!) ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ɴᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴠɪꜱɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ <33

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ꜱɪᴄᴋ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɢᴏᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴘꜱ: ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɪᴛ

You hated being here.

You hated spending your days stuck in this house. You didn't care for its luxury, you swore you'd never call it home. The windows were nailed shut. They taunted you. Teasing you as little peaks to the outside. The outside seemed so far and so hard to reach. It might as well not even have been there.

You were stuck inside, with him.

You didn't even really notice how lucky you were. Given free rein of the house, of course watched by numerous cameras and sensors, and had anything you could ever want to do indoors at your fingertips. "You don't know how good you've got it" Katsuki would always sneer, grimacing as you'd push away his touches, or fight his embraces. "Tons of people would kill to be where you are right now."

His words unlike his quirk were always like ice, frustration welling inside of him as he began to anger more and more day by day. He didn't want to wait, he couldn't wait. He wanted you to accept him. What more could he do? Your favorite food was there, you had anything you needed to supplement your hobbies, plenty of vitamins and-

vitamins of course that you weren't taking. He didn't know that.

He did now.

The lack of natural sunlight on your skin might have done it; it could've just been a common cold. It didn't matter. He looked over as you bundled up on the couch, hair in a messy bun as you sniffled. He chuckled, tissues littering the floor around you as water and ginger ale bottles and cans decorated the small living room coffee table in front of you. You could barely keep your eyes open enough to watch the show.

He was surprised when your eyes locked with his. They were teary, and slightly red as if they'd been rubbed too much. Your hands slunk out from the bundles of blankets, outreached towards him. Your throat was sore as you silently begged him to comfort you.

You needed someone.

He paused, looking at you for a second before he smirked. "Why should I come over there and help you? You're such an ungrateful brat. This seems like karma to me."

You felt a piercing pain sink through your chest, the same chest that heaved with heavy laborious breaths. "Please..." you said softly, "I can't- I-" you choked, coughs interrupting your speech. You put your head down, hands sinking back under the blankets as they wrapped around you.

You felt horrible. All you wanted was help- all you needed was him.

You felt the tears slip from your eyes as you began to silently weep. Your body trembled slightly, partly from the illness and partly from the hurt. You couldn't speak further. You could feel a shift in the room- as if Katsuki had left the room.

You could feel your head grow dizzy as you tried to console yourself. It wasn't long however before a strong muscled hand sank under your chin.

The blonde haired pro hero pulled your head up to face him, you felt the couch cushions soften around the back of your head. You sniffled, letting his thumb wipe away the tears.

"Stop all that now, I'm here," he said, sucking his teeth before he pressed a medicine bottle to your lips. It was unlabeled, like all the medicine in the house. Simply a safety precaution to keep you from hurting yourself. You drank a bit before he pulled it away, grabbing a can of ginger ale to help you wash down the slightly bitter taste.

He gently climbed onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his embrace. It was warm. You questioned why you'd ever denied it before. Stop, you're letting him win. You can't keep doing this. You snuggled into his chest, ignoring the thoughts in your mind. He's only getting what he wanted, you're giving him what he wants! You drowned out all your second thoughts, listening to his soothing voice.

"There's a good girl, relaxing right where you should, with me."

"My pretty baby is gonna be all right"

"There there my love."

You felt a kiss on your forehead as you began to drift off.

His baby, his. You're all his.

like this story? follow me for more!

come join my coming back party! (most events reopened!)

comission me here! (discount szn!)

join my current favorite discord!

#♡ketsueki writes #♡event #♡Crying Over Me? Event! #♡COM Event! #♡headcanons/drabbles #♡mail #♡sweeter #♡sweet #🩸 angst #💧 comfort #yandere #yandere my hero #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero #yandere bakugou angst #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugou x fem!reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou x you #yandere bakugou x y/n #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki x fem!reader #yandere katsuki x you #yandere katsuki x y/n #yandere katsuki x reader

[vmpiires]

gonna do an enemies to lovers story cuz why not

#𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐿𝑂𝑂𝐷 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ 🩸 ‧ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk x reader #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso x black!reader #jujutsu choso #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu itadori #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing

[howtobecomeadragon]

🚨 miwip wednesday 🚨 miwip wednesday 🚨

i heard that a local farmer boy was dragged into the woods by an animal. he wasn't found for a whole week and when he was brought back by one of the squires from the castle, the boy had a nasty bite.

watch out, folks. be careful if you're out alone at night. beware of wild animals.

#miwip wednesday #werewolf will fic #🐺🐺🐺 #my writing #byler #byler fic wip #byler fic moodboard #🏰🛡⚔️🩸

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: One shot should be enough. That's all there is to it, right?

TW/s: Yandere behavior, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, lowkey these two are terrifying to deal with, kazuha has no remorse in some of these, vaguely terrifying heizou, nsfw warnings also include drugging, blackmail, and arson.

NOTE FROM HR: Happy Valentine’s Day, 🩸 anon. It seems your boyfriends decided to do something very special for you. After all, they liked you, didn’t they? I hope you like sweets, because I know they prepared something special for you. Just… Try not to look into what they made too much.

Dealing with Kazuha and Heizou isn't all that bad. For you, the two of them had been nothing but kind and welcoming, although the first time you have decided to rent them in the app, the greeting was more or less a surprise.

You remembered what Heizou told you, since he would remind you so often. You were, in his words, 'a golden retriever'. Why did he call you that? You were answered with that you just looked like it, without any sort of explanation.

For Kazuha, though, he called you his 'maple'. An endearing nickname, considering you red through his profile that he was a poet and isn't fan of being too mean to whoever rents him.

The one thing that you knew from their terms was to not ask either of them about Wanderer or Kamisato Ayato and his clan. For Heizou, it's because he worked for the bigwig himself and didn't want word to spread about his comments, and for Kazuha, he had... 'History', as he puts it.

Going past the sudden surprise and the slight confusion between you and the two men, the three of you discussed some ground rules on what they should expect from you and vice versa.

For Kazuha, he wanted more than to treat you like a proper boyfriend, and he didn't have as much limitations other than prying into his past unless stated otherwise.

As for Heizou, he wanted to keep things light and casual, but he also wouldn't like it if you try to get into his connections with the higher up he's working for and for his job.

In your case, you knew it was to be expected. The rules clearly stated that renting a boyfriend in MixMatch is fair game for the boyfriend and the client, and the boyfriend can decide what rule the other party must follow.

It also works as a sort of 'out', just in case they felt as though they wouldn't be able to get along with the boyfriend they rented with a full refund.

With this in mind, you told the two that the same was to be expected: you don't want either of them to dig into your past, and you don't want them to force you to things you hate. After all, you had to scrounge up enough money to afford them as their prices are on the lower side than other guys.

And... Well, that's where you three are at right now. Granted, Kazuha enjoys going out, but he seems to adapt quite easily to your tastes. Heizou, though, enjoyed bantering with someone who can tolerate his little antics like the white haired musician.

Sometimes, you two would end up having a bit of friendly banter on who sucks at a specific game, while Kazuha will play as a 'referee' for the two of you.

One of those moments was now.

"Pfft, you suck at being a hunter, 'zou," you said, your fingers moving to have your little bony knight combat with Hornet. "I'm going to finish Greenpath if you don't come in here soon!"

"Oh, really?" you heard Heizou answer, laughing as he manages to join in the frey. "Well, you clearly aren't doing so good against miss Hornet, Finn."

You flinched as he began to attack you when Hornet wasn't nearby, making you slip and get hurt by the warrior as a result.

"Hey!"

Parrying both attacks, you hear Kazuha enter, the scent of coffee wafting in the air as he placed the mug beside Heizou. At your peripheral vision, he walked off from Heizou's side and went to your right, placing down a drink.

Ah, the scent of strawberry milkshake... You swore this man knows you like it extra sweet.

"It seems you two are at it again," said Kazuha, the albino watching as the two gamers clashed swords, dodging Hornet's attack when she got too close to hurting either of them.

"It's fun, Kazuha! Say, why don't you come in and join me and Finn?"

Kazuha laughed as you hear the cushions move before he sat down.

"No need. I'm more content in watching you two compete over who can beat the game than anything else."

"Aw, boo! You'll enjoy it, Kaz!"

It was you who protested this time, which made the latter hum. Although, you couldn't really look at him as you were busy trying to get Heizou down to his knees (metaphorically, of course).

"Seeing you two bond and play games is enough for me, maple."

... There it is again. The nickname he gives you is enough to make you sputter.

"I-- hmph, you're missing out," you grumbled, but the tone was playful. It was enough to have Heizou chuckle and land a particular hit when you were distracted.

"Whoops~ seems like you aren't looking, retriever," he quips, causing you to huff.

"Oh, shut up!"

For the three of you, the idea of renting a boyfriend to be able to do these things never crossed your minds. To those who are looking in, it just seem more like three friends, hanging out on a special day.

Three friends hanging out in one person's home on Valentine's, sharing laughs and banters as they played games.

Yes. That's how it should be.

After all, you wouldn't want to know what goes underneath that sense of naive fun, would you?

After having beaten Heizou through a 5 round lose streak (seriously, you sometimes wonder if the detective has a damn tracker on you), the three of you realized that you don't have food for the next few days.

In your case, well... You are the definition of a broke college student. Buying groceries outside is almost like some form of scam, considering the inflation on certain goods. But with the two of your boyfriends, budgeting was not an issue.

What was an issue, however, was what was essential to buy and what isn't.

"We may be able to live off with these for a while," you told the two men, your brows furrowed in thought at the list. "Still, I'm not sure if there's anything else we're missing. I don't even know if it adds to the additional fees aside from renting you guys..."

Kazuha shook his head, his hand moving to place it on your shoulder. A comforting gesture, considering you enjoyed touch and craved it from the two of them.

"We talked about this, ダーリン. We made sure that whatever expenses we spent on you wouldn't count to the cost you paid for us beforehand, remember?"

Your frown was still present. It was clear that you were struggling to remember, and it caused Heizou to pat your head with a chuckle.

"Look, if you're so worried that it could, why don't you see it as us treating you? It is Valentine's Day, so it'd be nice if you don't have to remind the two of us and your little head that we cost more than a month's rent."

Ah. Right.

"... Fine," you answered, sighing. "I guess I forgot that you two aren't actually my boyfriends. That, and spending for you two costs an arm, and I'd rather not pay for any additional expenses if I want to live for a year."

This caused them to chuckle.

"Oh, you don't have to."

After all, they have plans they want to spend with on Valentine's Day. Some that you weren't even aware of are already in motion.

Spending time with Heizou was easy, since Kazuha has a full day ahead to make this the most special for the three of you. After all, they've been deciding on how to spend it with the one they love most.

Now, sure, both have their... Differences, but the two loved Finn. To them, they were the best they've met so far, and the chemistry was already there. What more could either of them ask for?

Well, there was one thing they both wanted.

While the two are out buying groceries, Kazuha gets a phone call. Checking his phone, his eyes narrowed to see who was contacting him. Accepting it, he placed it on his shoulder as he got to work on setting up the house.

"Hello, █████."

"Hello, Kazuha," a familiar voice answers. 

"I wasn't expecting for you to contact me so soon," the albino stated, but the warmth in his voice was gone. It was the same thing that the latter could hear as he began to prepare for their final 'surprise'. "Is there another one you're letting us check to see if they pass?"

"... No, it's not that. I'm actually contacting you to inform you of what the Boss wants."

Kazuha stops for a moment, and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

He never liked their boss. No one does.

After all, that boss had ties to the underworld and what goes on. It's why they were able to host 'MixMatch', a dating app. Although, if you asked him, he didn't trust that it was a simple 'dating app'.

What dating app would have it's ties to trafficking, anyway?

"... What did he say?"

"He wants the clients that failed to get any matches gone."

...

The glass cup he was holding shatters from his grip.

He needs to clean it up. He does. But that information gave him chills.

"... Is that it?"

"Yes. I'm not sure who would get the short end of the stick, but he's planning on getting our clients involved on that. It's... Terrifying to think about."

Of course it would, he thinks. No one would be sane enough to propose THAT idea, right?

"I see. It... Truly is."

...

"You don't... Plan on hurting them, do you, Kazuha?"

"Why would I?"

He grabbed a broom, watching as he saw the clock move it's hands to strike 4.

"Like I'll let him touch what's ours to begin with."

"We're home! God, going out is such a headache..."

What greeted Finn was a curious sight.

"Welcome home, darling," Kazuha said, placing down the last plate of food he made. "Heizou didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

"Me? Giving our darling Finn a hard time? You wound me, Kazuha!" Heizou stated, placing a hand on his forehead almost dramatically. "It's almost like you forgot that I wouldn't have done anything to them."

"Well, you almost got away with buying more rope when Kazuha said we're on a tight budget—"

"Hey, hey, hey!" He shushed them, seeing Kazuha squint his eyes at the detective. "It's not like I'll spend it outside of our budget! Well... If it's not that expensive."

Finn and Kazuha sighed.

"Please tell me it's for the Crux, Heizou," the musician grumbled, giving him a glare. "For if it's anything else past that, I'll kick your shins in."

Scared of the outcome, Heizou yelped.

"It's for the Crux! Man alive, Kazuha, are you really about to do that just because I want to help miss Beidou?"

“Yes.”

“How terrifying! … And bold.”

Taking a seat, Finn watched the two men bicker lightly as they retrieved their food. They knew that it was Valentine’s, so it was quite pleasant to have a celebration with the people they cared for— rented or not.

Thus, that evening was spent with the trio speaking amongst themselves. Future plans, outings, and even some small in-betweens. Although, Finn didn’t recall when they had lost track of time… Or when they had simply nodded off.

All they knew was that day… It was one of the best celebrations they had.

…

When the two knew they were asleep, Kazuha grabbed his phone, his warm eyes gone cold.

It was time that they faced the truth of their side job: the one thing they needed to do, as much as they hated it. Even if it's only to ‘play’ the part, they’re both used to having their true intentions shielded for their own benefit.

“You know what to do,” he told Heizou, watching him sigh and prepare himself.

“Of course… It’s for our lives, after all.”

The two spared a glance at the slumbering client they had, feeling a sense of pity. They hated hurting these people, but that’s what the boss wanted. Their old one would have objected, but those who worked in Celestia Inc. are aware of the consequences should they be stopped.

And now, they had to swallow the bitter pill that was murder. Such a shame; Heizou was starting to like them, and so was Kazuha.

Raising the gun, he placed the barrel and put his finger on the tri—

Ring, ring.

Ring, ring.

…

Heizou stopped for a moment and grabbed the phone, answering it with his left hand.

“Hello? Who is this?”

…

“Hello, Shikanoin Heizou. Mind if you drop that gun you’re holding and speak to me outside?”

Kazuha scrutinized the look of apprehension as Heizou paused, turning his head to the gun. It was already aimed at their ex-client, but he knew that voice demanded business. Afterwards, he huffed and pulled it away, noticing the albino’s brows furrow.

He was confused, but that’s okay. It was normal to be confused in a situation such as this.

“Hide them somewhere safe,” he mouthed to Kazuha. “I’ll deal with this.”

Watching the musician carry Finn in his arms and leave, he sighed and adjusted the phone on his hands, his eyes remaining sharp as ever. “Alright,” he answered, turning his heel to leave the house. “Would you mind answering as to who I’m speaking to?”

“Oh, you should recognize who I am,” said the caller. “Look up.”

Reaching the porch, he turned his head up, noticing the familiar monochrome and red clashing and mixing into a unified sense of color. And for a mere moment, the ‘detective’ that people loved felt the dread that his past ‘clients’ had, should they be cleaned up with.

“Greetings, Shikanoin Heizou,” the caller greeted, their smile twisting itself when they saw the stiffness from him. “No need to panic. I wouldn’t dare hurt what’s tied to a shady business unless stated otherwise. Now, what brings you here?”

“... I’m here for my client with Kazuha,” answered Heizou, but he sounded curt. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Is it now? And how about those… ‘sweets’ you have? Is there anything in it?”

“Nothing of the sort, miss officer,” he retorted with a shrug, but he stopped moving when he felt the barrel of the gun on his head.

Loaded. Of course.

“I’ll ask again. Is there anything in those ‘sweets’?”

…

One shot and I’d drop dead. Not a good predicament.

“... Yes. Sleeping drugs.”

“I see.”

The barrel didn’t move. It left him even more apprehensive of the outcome. After all, it was clear that whoever they are, they excel a lot more in using guns, and they also have the upper hand against him.

Such a bother.

“One last question: do you mind if you do this favor for me?”

He could feel something cold. Metallic… And clearly not used. There’s a latch on the front, and a sticker that was ripped on its back. He didn’t know what it was, but he could smell the scent of charcoal on it— it was strong enough for him to have a whiff.

“Would you mind burning that house behind you? I’m aware you two have made up your mind that you’d get rid of Finn, but it seems you two got cold feet.”

Heizou seems to have felt his heart stop beating.

How did they know?

“Such a shame. I believe the boss knew you two would be excellent ‘boyfriends’, so to speak,” he heard them continue, sighing. “And here you are, hesitating to murder yet another lovesick ‘client’ who’s grown fond of you two. I’m quite surprised you haven’t seen how twisted this is.”

The barrel digs in deeper to his head.

“Then again, we are all sick in the head, aren’t we?”

…

Heizou had no rebuttal. After all, they all came with ulterior motives.

“Well, Heizou? Will you do the honors?”

“... Fine,” he answered. A bit too late, one may add, but he knew that he was not in a good position. He was being forced, and behind those words, the obvious and looming threat was present.

If you don’t, I’ll inform your boss that you failed the job.

“I’ll burn the place. Kazuha is responsible for taking care of anything else, should there be any more requirements we have to follow after getting rid of the ‘evidence’ here.”

“Splendid. I was wondering if you were truly having cold feet. As expected from a detective such as yourself.”

Satisfied with the response, the caller lowered the gun they had and tucked it away. With a satisfied hum, they turned their heels and walked down the steps, going to the entrance and to their motorcycle parked on the side of the fence.

“Be sure to do the job. You know what happens if you don’t..”

Heizou couldn’t help but stand as he watched them ride on top of a motorcycle and drive off in the night, the feeling of the lighter resting in his hands. He felt that weight grew heavier, knowing fully well that he was forced to do such a crime. His hands were already stained in red, but he felt pity. He didn’t want to kill Finn, and even Kazuha can tell.

He can even see that the once quick detective stopped when the topic of arson came up for his beloved ‘client’.

Alas…

… The die was cast, and the cast must die.

Raising his phone, he contacted Kazuha, texting that he will set the house ablaze— and that he needed Kazuha to take Finn back to their home. Kazuha sent him a text to inform him that he took everything that Finn valued when they were gone, so he should be fine burning it all down.

It was only when he finished texting did he look at the house, lamenting that he felt so… Attached to it, like it was his second home.

Heizou hated that part of himself. That part that wanted to keep things as is, just like the good days.

Those days where Kazuha and the others weren’t as twisted. Those who didn’t have to stain their hands for bloody cash. Those who didn’t want to be reminded of what goes down below. And yet, here he was… Standing over the house like it was him denying the call of adventure.

With one deep breath, he turned the lighter on and tossed it inside. Heizou watched as the flame traveled around the flooring and through the walls, going to various rooms and setting things ablaze quicker than he could catch. It wasn’t long until the house was engulfed in the fire he willingly made, those pops and sizzles haunting his memory.

It was done, he thought.

And yet his chest still felt as heavy as he remembered ever since he ‘got in’.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

#💌 ;; message delivery #💌 ;; from: kaedehara kazuha #💌 ;; from: shikanoin heizou #💌 ;; to: 🩸 anon #💌 ;; promising letter: one last call #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere gi #genshin impact #genshin #gi #yandere kaedehara kazuha #yandere #yandere writing #yandere text #male yandere #shikanoin heizou #genshin impact shikanoin heizou #genshin heizou #yandere kazuha #yandere shikanoin heizou #yandere heizou #genshin impact heizou #genshin shikanoin heizou #genshin kaedehara kazuha #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Eight

“I’m so heavy in your arms.”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: Helloooooooo! This has always been the chapter I’ve been wanting to write from the beginning, and I can’t wait to share it with y’all! Please give me your feedback after you’ve read it! I love hearing y’all’s thoughts. Also keep your eyes peeled because there are hints at Sam’s story and Danny’s story towards the end! (Ideally I want all four of them to get their own story in this universe ❤️) Onward!

Word Count: 6,714

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood. This one is SAD y’all so bring the tissues. No smut in this chapter.

The ride to Dimitri’s manor was a quiet one. Josh sat close to you in the back seat, never taking his eyes off the two men up front. One hand was resting on your thigh, the other was holding your other hand in his lap. It didn’t take a Vampire to feel how fast your pulse was racing, or how your anxiety was so high you were completely silent. His thumbs rubbed comforting circles wherever they could reach, trying to calm you down. Despite your hunter’s efforts, your mind would not stop circling the drain with every worst case scenario. You were dead. Truly dead. Josh will be too. Dimitri knows. He knows you committed high treason against your own kind. Monica was right, they’d have you Meet the Sun for this. 

You had seen first hand over the decades what Dimitri did to traitors. He wasn’t flashy about it, having an audience was never the point. But he always made sure to hit where hurt the most. Right now? That place was Josh himself, and you knew that Dimitri knew that. You were so fucking stupid, of course he would see through that entire sham at the Den. 

The black SUV you were traveling in took a sharp left turn, swiftly taking you out of the city. Even though Dimitri was at the Den most nights, his actual residence was far out of town. He preferred to spend his nights off away from the hustle and bustle, in his sprawling estate that few had seen in person, and even fewer had lived to tell about it. 

Another turn, this time onto a side road that wound itself through the forest. The trees swallowed any lingering light from the city, leaving the SUV in its own bubble. The road narrowed the further you went, and started to incline. It wasn’t very mountainous outside of the city, but there were plenty of hills. Steep ones, with plenty of cliffs tall enough to get the job done. Your body didn’t produce bile the way humans did, but you swallowed whatever you had in your throat that threatened to bubble up into your mouth. 

Josh, in the way he knew best, tried whispering comforts in your ear, which you faintly heard through the roaring in your ears. You felt his lips caress your ear as he spoke, those plush, perfect lips that mere hours ago were claiming you as his. You tried to remember the last kiss you had shared with him in your bed. A soft but secure kiss before you slumbered in  his arms. You closed your eyes and melted into him, tempted to take off the seatbelt and crawl in his lap for the remainder of the drive. He peppered kisses into your hair and on your cheek, trying to find something that calmed your fears. 

The narrow road suddenly opened up into a sprawling driveway, a semi-circle pavement monstrosity complete with an obnoxious fountain in the center that the SUV peeled around. Of course Dimitri would be the only address on this road. The literal end of the line. The vehicle lurched to a halt before the driver shut it off and calmly exited. The door to the right of Josh was yanked open, and both of the men were standing on either side, waiting for you to exit. Josh laced his fingers in yours before getting out first and helping you out. He refused to let go of your hand for a second. 

The chilly night air nipped at your legs as you gazed upon the impressive manor. It consisted of  three floors above ground, but you recalled rumors of an extensive basement system down below. 

The Gothic architecture was almost too on the nose, something that Josh whispered in your ear, “the only thing he’s missing is a giant neon sign that says ‘a vampire lives here’ with a massive arrow pointing to the house.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, “he really leans into the stereotypes…” 

The feeling of normalcy between you two was short lived, as the two henchmen ushered you up the stone steps leading into the manor. You weren’t a runner, but the fight or flight response was nearly impossible to ignore at this point. A simple squeeze of your hand by Josh brought you back to reality. The heavy wooden door was pulled open by one of the men, his hand gesturing for you two to enter. Because a Vampire owned this house, formal invitations weren’t necessary. Josh entered just a step ahead of you, preparing to get in the way of anything that could potentially attack. 

However, the two of you were met to an empty foyer that opened up to a grand entrance hall. The hall was flanked by two massive identical staircases that mirrored each other and met at a shared landing high above you. The room was lit with flickering lights that mimicked candlelight, another way Dimitri stayed on theme. 

The front door closed loudly behind you, leaving you alone and in complete silence. You heard familiar classical music being played down one of the halls, but you didn’t have much time to figure out exactly where when you heard the tapping of footsteps marching towards you. Within seconds, a Vampire in his fifties appeared at the bottom of the stairs, staring at you both with an unreadable expression. You could feel Josh jump a little at his sudden appearance, as most humans weren’t used to the fact that sometimes Vampires just…appeared at times. This habit along with the super speed was what started the false rumor that Vampires could teleport within shadow. 

It took you a second to recognize him but it dawned on you, “it's been a long time, Phillip.” 

The Vampire grimaced at your words, as he had never been very fond of you, “Dimitris would like to see you both in his study.” 

You kept your gaze steady, not wanting Phillip of all Vampires to see you nervous, “lead the way.” 

With a slight huff Phillip turned on his heel and led the two of you down the main hall to the right. As you walked, the sound of classical music met your ears, letting you know you were close. With Phillips walking in front, you took your chance and slid your hand into Josh’s with a firm grip. He squeezed back, and ran his thumb up and down the side of your hand. Phillip took a sharp left turn down a dimly lit corridor and the music grew louder. Ahead of him you could see flickering light pouring out of an open doorway. This was it. 

He stopped in front of the door and ushered the two of you inside, where you found Dimitri lounging on a Victorian couch. He was staring into the roaring fire, his expression unreadable. 

Dimitri briefly looked up to acknowledge your presence before sitting up straighter and squaring his shoulders, “ Leave us, Phillip. I wish to speak with them alone.” Phillip gave a curt nod before disappearing down the dark corridor. Dimitri gestured to the identical couch across from his, offering you and Josh a seat. His eyes were fixed on your joined hands as you sat down. 

“Always a pleasure, darling.” You nodded, words failing you. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here. I apologize for the short notice but…the matter could not wait.” He smiled softly at you, continuing to study you both. “I feel we shouldn’t beat around the bush and get directly to the matter at hand.”

You gulped and didn’t care if he saw it or not.

“How long have you known, Mr. Kiszka here?” You knew it was coming, but him saying Josh’s name made your blood run cold. Before you could answer he said, “you almost had me with that fake name at the Den…but when I tasted his blood I knew right away who he was. Well, what family he came from, at least.”

“How-,” Josh interjected. 

“Oh my dear Joshua, your great-grandfather’s blood tasted very similar,” he said matter-of-fact. Josh glared at the Vampire as his hand tensed in yours and you felt his whole body become rigid. “I’ve come across your family many times, but I’ve always eluded them of course,” a cool smile spread across his face. “Which is why it was so…interesting of you, darling, to bring one of them into my Blood Den under a false identity. I would even venture to say it was out of character.” 

“Dimitri I-”

The older Vampire wasn’t finished, “however, it might surprise you to know I had no intention of doing anything about your little…indiscretion…for the time being. In fact I fully planned to merely observe how many times you’d bring your little hunter friend amongst us Vampires. Now, the real plot twist was you feeding on him the other night. That I did not expect at all. But the best part was that little Joshua here was enjoying it…” He smirked at Josh, who continued to glare at him.

You tried to keep your voice steady, “but if you weren’t going to do anything about it, then why are we here?”

Dimitri nodded and leaned forward, “yes the wrinkle in all of this was that someone went behind my back to the Council and told them everything.”

“Who the fuck-,” you started.

“You’ve probably noticed that Yvonne isn’t here tonight? Well, it seems someone got a little impatient in my promise to eventually turn her and she tried using this delicious piece of information to hopefully convince a member of,” he stopped to chuckle lightly and pinch the bridge of his nose, “the Council of all groups to turn her instead.” 

Your eyes widened at the stupidity, there was no way the Council would turn a human for this. They were even more selective than Dimitri when it came to creating new Vampires. Yvonne had to be extremely desperate, stupid, or both to pull this move. 

“I mean maybe it's my fault for keeping her around for nearly a decade on the promise of turning her? Humans are such impatient creatures,” he flicked his eyes back at Josh, “no offense.” 

“What did the Council say to all of this?”

“You’re both in luck that I have a few friends on the Council that came directly to me with Yvonne’s betrayal, and thus a warning as to what they said to do about it.”

It was a good thing you were already sitting down, but Dimitri’s habit of drawing things out was making your anxiety so much worse. 

“The first thing they did was tell me who the informant was. Yvonne was…quickly dealt with,” his voice trailed off, but you knew better than to ask the how and what about that situation, “and after that, they gave us a few options going forward.” 

You could feel your hunter's hand going clammy, and his heartbeat could be heard over the crackling fire. 

“The first option, and the one they wanted the most, was for you to Meet the Sun, darling,” for the first time in decades, you saw sadness creep into his eyes, “the second option of course, was just to flat out kill our dear Joshua. Both options had the obvious caveat of having you watch each other’s death. Which would then lead to the death of the one watching. So essentially it was more of a ‘who first’ matter.”

“Oh…,” it was all you could say. It was what you were fearing, but finally hearing Dimitri say it out loud made your vision blur and your knees shake. 

“But,” Dimitri sat back against the couch, a satisfied grin replaced the sadness, “I had an even more poetic idea.”

“What could be more ‘poetic’ than that?” The sarcasm dripped from Josh’s voice. 

Dimitri held his hands out, palms facing the two of you, as if he was telling you to brace yourselves, “why, stripping the Vampire Hunter’s humanity away, of course!” 

“What,” you squeaked out. 

“...and as a cherry on top, having you be the one to turn him!”

Your ears started ringing, “excuse me?”

“Oh think about it, darling. Turning not just any human, but a Kiszka? Do you know how many Vampire’s have tried to do that very thing and failed?”

“I can think of a few,” Josh deadpanned.

Dimitri gave Josh a look but continued, “you see, the worst way to insult a hunter, especially one from a family line,  isn’t to kill them. Hunters love dying for the cause. No no, it's turning one. Why? Well darling I don’t know if your little friend here has told you, but they view being turned as a fate worse than death. In fact, they even view the mere suggestion of allowing a hunter-turned-vampire to exist as a walking advert of their failures. Isn’t that right, dear Joshua?” 

Josh stilled next to you. It was true.

“Nothing worse than the hunter becoming the hunted, eh,” the older Vampire said with raised eyebrows. 

You had to be hallucinating. This was all some wild nightmare you were having. Any second now you’d wake up in Josh’s arms, safely shielded by the sun in your bed. You dropped your face into your hands, rubbing your eyes but when you opened them you were still sitting in Dimitri’s cliched study. 

“And if we don’t take that option,” you asked, still not believing what you were hearing.

Dimitri’s expression grew serious, “then as I said before, it would only be a matter of…who goes first.” 

Josh stared at the ornate rug under his feet. The thought of you burning from the sun again made him nauseous. He could still hear how your skin sizzled and cracked open, the gasps of pain and the whimpers you tried to hide. The thought of you being held out in the open, more than likely in front of an audience, while you slowly burned to death, especially because of him, made the bile rise in his throat. The dream that he had had the first time he slept next to you invaded his mind, and he visibly shuddered. But on the other hand…if he agreed to this, to being turned, how would he tell Jake? Or Sam? What would he say to them? 

“...and there’s really no other way?” Josh asked the obvious, but he needed to express it out loud. 

Dimitri shook his head, “if I don’t give the Council a decision they’ll make one themselves, and I can promise that you don’t want it to get to that.” 

Josh nodded his head, the skin on the back of his neck prickled hot, and he swallowed hard, “fine.” 

You snapped your head to your left to look at him, “what do you mean, ‘fine’?”

“Turn me,” he slowly swiveled his gaze, meeting your eyes for a second before looking back at Dimitri, “I want her to do it, no one else.” 

Dimitri sat back with a satisfied smile, “I knew you were smart, dear Joshua. She must mean a lot to you in order to give up your humanity like this.” 

You stared at your hunter, tears filling your eyes, “no…” Painfully, a memory surfaced in your mind, from that first night in the Den. The brief banter you exchanged while you were explaining your favorite cocktail to him.

“A-Negative pairs really well with whiskey. Robust but not overpowering, gives you a great buzz. It's a shame you can’t find that out for yourself with your…humanity and all.” 

Josh gave you a flat look, “I like my humanity just fine.”

“Suit yourself…though a hunter turned Vampire would be hilariously ironic.”

It was just a joke on your end, something silly to loosen him up, but now the words burned in your throat. 

“You’re not dying because of me,” his words shook you from your thoughts. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for…”

“Out of our options…this is our only option, sweetheart.” 

“I’ve never…I’ve never turned someone…” 

“But you know how, darling, you know the procedure,” Dimitri offered from his couch.

You turned to look at the older Vampire, “and you’re ok with this? Turning someone new?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it to the Council if I wasn’t. Plus, imagine the business it would bring to the Dens I have? You two making an appearance? Think about it, the hunter who was willing to be turned to save a Vampire? And you, darling, the Vampire who tempted a hunter to want to be turned? You, turned a Kiszka? Vampires and their Human Companions would be flocking to get a glimpse of you. It would…add to the fantasy of theirs,” Dimitri couldn’t contain his excitement at the possibilities. 

“Fantasy,” you questioned. 

“Well, the human fantasy of one day…following in your footsteps…,” Dimitri countered. 

Having heard enough, you turned back to Josh, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” he made sure to look you in the eyes as he said it. He reached out, collecting your hands into his, driving home the fact he was serious. You instantly tangled your fingers around his, gripping him nearly too tight, but you needed to ground yourself. 

“Wonderful,” you vaguely registered the excitement emanating from Dimitri as he sprang to his feet, “now, I had a feeling this would be the decision and I already had a room upstairs ready for you both. Anything you need, darling, and it's yours.” 

You nodded numbly, not wanting to take your eyes off of Josh. Your chest didn’t know whether to heave or to cave in on itself. It was too much, it was all too much at one time. You tried to travel back in your mind to this morning, with Josh hovering above you in your bed. The last time things felt normal with him. The way the wall sconces scattered light through his curly hair, the heat of his skin against yours, the kisses he left all over your nose and cheeks, he was your gentle daylight. Your gentle daylight that you were cursing into never seeing the sun again. 

Before you knew it, Dimitri stood before you both with a warm smile not seen by many people. 

“Come on, I’ll show you to the room myself,” he offered, hand stretched out to the door. 

Josh was the first to stand up, his hands still clinging to yours as you left your seat. The both of you silently followed Dimitri out of the study, barely paying attention to where you were going. He led you down the corridor and up one flight of stairs and then another. Why he chose the third floor for this bewildered you, but knowing Dimitri there was a reason. The thick mahogany door was already open, and inside there was a large bed in the corner, flanked by two night stands. A chaise lounge was across the room, accompanied by an antique coffee table in front of it. On both the coffee table and the night stands were stacks of towels and rags, presumably for any spilled blood. But in the far corner of the room, was a bay window that let you know you were in one of the turret rooms. Underneath the windows were bench seats built into the wall. 

Dimitri held up a small remote before placing it on the nightstand, “the sun will be up soon, so when you need the shutters you’ll have them.” Of course Dimitri would put sun-blocking shields on his windows. You don’t live as long as he had without crossing all your t’s and dotting all your i’s. 

“I umm…I have to call my brothers…,” Josh nearly stuttered out, looking at Dimitri. 

He looked skeptical at first but his expression softened, “very well, but if you attempt to bring the calvary here to save you, I can assure you it won’t end well for anyone involved.” 

With a deep inhale through his nose, Josh nodded, “understood.” 

Dimitri turned to you, “as I said in the study, anything you need, darling, and I’ll get it here. I have staff just outside the door, waiting for you.” 

“Th-thank you, Dimitri…,” you were still overwhelmed, the situation slowly sinking in.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I trust you know what to do,” his hand extended to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. You nodded in response, and he quickly left the room, shutting the heavy door behind him. The loud click of the lock nearly echoed, reminding you this was your only path forward. 

“I ruined your life…,” you whispered as you sat on the couch. 

Josh was still standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space deep in thought, but your words snapped him out of it and he turned his head to you, “no you didn’t.” 

“It was my idea to bring you to the Den, it was my idea to ‘team up’ it was-”

In three strides he was beside you on that couch, cupping your face in his hands, “and I agreed every single time, and made the choice to go with you.”

 

You couldn’t stop the tears spilling down your cheeks, and his thumbs dutifully wiped each one away, “if we do this, you won’t be able to go back to your family. At least, I don’t know how they’d react-”

Josh sniffed, “I’m going to call Jake and Sam before anything happens…I don’t…I don’t know what I’m going to say but I have to let them know it’ll be awhile before I come back home.” He was trying so hard to be strong in your presence, to not let the situation get to him, but his hands shook against your cheeks, and he struggled to get his words out. 

“There’s something else, Josh,” he looked at you in confusion, “not every- not everyone who gets turned takes to their new existence well. It's not something one can predict beforehand, it's almost random in how new Vampire’s navigate the world.”

“You turned out fine,” he countered.

“Barely. Remember when I told you that the first decade was rough? I meant that. I wasn’t taught skills or control because my Maker-”

“Then I will be lucky to have a Maker as thoughtful as you to teach me how to correctly survive.” His eyes never left yours and his thumbs never stopped rubbing your cheeks. 

You wanted to smile at his confidence, but you needed to voice the elephant in the room, “Vampires like Ethan aren’t exactly…rare either…”

He understood what you were trying to say, “if I end up like Ethan…I’ll need you and Jake to do the right thing…” 

This made you crumble even more, “I’m not strong enough to do that…” 

His face got even more serious, “yes you are, and don’t forget that. I’m going to go call my brothers…and then we can get started, ok?”

With a shaky breath, you nodded. His hands left your face, and you deflated a little from the loss. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed as he stood up, making his way to the bay window and looking out into the night. The moon was full, but low in the sky, indicating that the sunrise was closer than he thought. 

After three rings, Jake picked up, “do you know what time it is? Some of us like sleeping at night.” The watery breath Josh exhaled into the speaker made every alarm bell go off in Jake’s head, “what's wrong? Did something happen?”

“No…but, well yes, but not what you think.”

“Josh, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“We got caught, Jake. They umm…they figured out who I was and we were both brought in-”

“Brought in where?” Josh could hear rustling on the other end of the phone, indicating Jake was sitting up on the air mattress. 

“Just…some high level Vamps gave us an ultimatum and I took it.”

“Not their stupid fucking Council? Those fucking ghouls. What was the ultimatum?”

This was it, he had to tell him, “...that if I don’t want to be killed…I have to be turned…”

There was a deafening silence on the other end of the line, with only a gruff, “are you fucking kidding me,” to cut through it. 

“Turn your location on, I'll come get you.”

Josh looked up at the ceiling, eyes watery, “you can’t do that, man.” 

“The fuck you mean I can’t? I’ve gotten you out of worse.”

“They’ll kill you on the spot, and trust me the place I’m at has the muscle to even take you down.”

Another long silence, “...so you’re just going to roll over and let them turn you into one of those things? ‘Cause from how I see it, you’re getting killed either way.”

“Jake-”

“You’ll have to watch me get older than you and eventually-” his tone was becoming frantic. 

“We’re not going to think about that right now. This is my only chance. I’ll be…different but I’ll still be here.” 

“Who's doing it?” Now it was Josh’s turn to not speak, “oh how fucking poetic. They’re having her do it?! I knew it. I fucking knew it. You don’t think this was her plan all along?” 

Josh looked at you over his shoulder, you were still sitting on the couch with your hands in your lap. Because of your hearing, you were able to hear everything Jake said, and that last accusation made a fresh batch of tears roll down your face. 

He turned back around, beginning to get pissed off, “I can promise you it wasn’t.” 

After a few heavy breaths into the phone, Jake said, “...when is it happening?”

“Tonight.”

“I just…I don’t know what to say.”

“Me either, honestly.” 

“Mom and dad…wait, have you called Sammy?”

“No not yet, I was about to.”

“Please make sure you do, I don’t want him hearing about this second hand from anyone. You know how he gets....”

Josh nodded, “I know…”

“After you…afterwards…then what?”

Josh shrugged, “they made it sound like I was basically free to go afterwards…that my ‘new existence’ would be punishment enough.”

Jake revisited the same thoughts Josh had had downstairs in the study. Hunters viewed being turned as the ultimate failure, a spit in the face of their life's work. Turning Josh would definitely make a statement, and a warning, to the entire hunter community. 

Jake turned the phone to hide the sniff he made, but Josh heard it anyway, “I need you to come back as soon as you can, got it?”

“I will, I just…can’t promise you when that’ll be.” 

“Just promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

“I’m not saying ‘goodbye’ either, I can’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Josh sniffed again.

“Call Sammy,” was all Jake said before he hung up. Josh knew he didn’t hang up to be rude, but he knew his twin couldn’t handle this information. He instantly dialed Sam’s number, but it kept going to voicemail. He called him five more times, before sighing in defeat and settling for a voicemail. He felt horrible that he had to leave it at that, but it didn’t seem like Sam was anywhere near his phone. He glanced at the sky, noting the full moon again. This also meant that Sam’s best friend, Danny, wasn’t able to be reached tonight either. Fuck. The phone beeped and he began his little speech, mumbling his way through it but trying his best to sound strong for his younger brother. Eventually he hung up and turned back to you.

“So…how does this happen?”

You gulped and stood up, walking over to him, “I umm…I have to d-drain you…completely, and when you’re at the brink of d-death, you drink my blood.”

Josh nodded, “and then?”

“You’ll fall asleep, and you’ll stay asleep for at least a few days. It differs from person to person. I was out for at least two nights. And even after that it's common to sleep a lot those first few weeks as your body changes and adjusts.” You reached up and cradled his jaw, “but don’t worry, I won’t go anywhere. You’re not leaving my sight the entire time.” 

Overwhelmed by it all, Josh crashed his lips into yours, needing something to ground himself. You kissed him back, pouring every bit of emotion you could into it. 

Eventually he pulled back just enough to say, “how do you want to do it?” 

“Any way you want, honestly,” you looked over at the bed, “the bed would be the most comfortable.”

He nodded, “ok then, the bed it is.” He walked over and stripped off his shirt and shorts, leaving himself in his underwear as he started turning down the thick covers. He wasn’t sure how much blood there would be, but if the amount of towels on the nightstand and coffee table were any indication, it wasn’t going to be a ‘clean’ process. 

Following his lead, you took your own shirt off and shimmied off your leggings, leaving yourself in your underwear and a random sports bra you found in your drawer. As you stood next to him, you realized both of you were a little stumped as to what to do next. Obviously knew what to do, but going about it was the question. 

While you pondered you glanced up at your hunter, and noted all of his earrings, “are those silver?” 

He nodded and then it dawned on him, “oh…I’ll have to take them out won’t I?”

“Yeah…but I can get you new ones. The holes won’t close up during…it all.”

Josh was a bit surprised, “really?” 

“Its weird I know but for some reason most piercings stay-”

“No I meant…you don’t have to get me new ones.” 

“Oh but I want to, they look so good on you,” finally, a genuine smile slid across your face. 

Josh started taking them out one by one and placing them on the nightstand. The second you smiled he relaxed a lot more. He needed normalcy. 

Wanting to keep the mood light, you reached up and gently touched the shaved sides of his head, “you’re also lucky I really like this haircut on you.” 

His eyes went wide as he dropped the last ear cuff on the wooden surface, “will it not grow back at all?”

“It will, just very slowly. Your fingernails will still grow too,” you reached out and threaded your fingers with his, another thought occurring to you, “you know…we never even really defined whatever this,” you gestured between you two, “is.” 

Josh stood there for a second, looking at you, before bringing both hands to your face and securing his lips to yours, he pulled away less than an inch from your face and said, “I think…you’re mine, and that's all that matters. Don’t you think so?”

Another real smile, this time closer to the smirk he loved so much, “mine?”

“Mine,” he whispered that word all over your face, planting soft kisses to any skin he could reach. Your arms wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer. His lips found home against yours, and for a few moments you lazily made out next to the bed. With your eyes closed, you were able to pretend for a moment you were back in his attic apartment, standing on those cold wooden floors about to be utterly taken by your lover on those god-awful plaid sheets. But as he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open, and the reality of where you were, and what you were about to do hit you again. A wave of emotion swept over you again, but you refused to let any tears fall. If you were going to be a Maker, you had to be strong for him. He needed you to be his rock right now. 

“I’m assuming the neck is the best place to umm…get it done?” 

Your eyes softened even more at him, “typically yes. The wrist is too slow and the thigh is too fast, the neck gives you the best control.” This was explained to you many times over the years by different Vampires. “I think…what would be the most comfortable, if you want, would be if I sat up against the headboard and you leaned against me?” 

“That makes sense,” he said quietly. 

You grabbed some of the towels and spread them out over the bed and pillows, just in case. When you were finished you turned back to Josh, only to find him walking towards the bay window. The sky was a soft pink, indicating the sun was rising. Carefully, you walked towards him, sticking to the shadows in the room. 

“I just…I needed to see it…” 

He didn’t need to explain himself to you, you understood. It was quite possibly the last time he’d be able to look at the sun without pain. His eyes were trained to the horizon, and as the sun greeted the new day, you finally got to see what those beautiful eyes of his looked in the sunlight. The wish you had made the night you met him in that bar. Those big brown eyes were illuminated into a molten honey color, and for once you were actually grateful for the sun to give this to you. 

He turned to you, giving you an even better view, “what?”

You shook your head from the still-shaded part of the room and smiled, “just looking at you, Boy Scout.” 

Josh gave one final look out the window, before turning away from it completely and walking over to join you in the shadow. He took your hand and led you back to the bed. You looked down at the little remote that Dimitri had left behind, and plucked it off the surface and studied it. There were only a few buttons on it, making it easy to decipher, and after hitting a few of them thick shades descended from the top of the windows, sealing them shut from the outside world. 

“Fancy…,” Josh mused as you turned on the nearest lamp. 

“He spares no expense,” you agreed as you crawled in the bed. You fluffed a few pillows behind you before fully sitting up against the headboard. Your hunter’s heartbeat sped up, you didn’t even have to try too hard to hear it. It made your own heart twinge, but you sat up a little bit more and held your hand out to him. He gladly took it as he got into the bed, turning around and leaning back against your chest. You softly brought your arms around his chest, giving him as good of a hug as you could in that position. He slowly tilted his head to the side, giving you full access to the left side of his neck. 

Your fingertips caressed his jawline while you stared down at him, “are you ready?”

“Is anyone?”

“If you need a few more minutes that's perfectly fine, Josh.”

“No no, I’m…I’m ready.” 

“Just remember, I’m not going anywhere.” He brought one of your hands to his lips and gave the back an open mouthed kiss before craning his neck and giving you one last kiss. Pulling away, he slipped back into position, and closed his eyes. 

Your fangs descended from your gums, and before you could hesitate even more, you drove them into the soft flesh of his neck. Josh flinched slightly, and you quickly gathered his hands in your free hand, letting him squeeze and cling as hard as he needed to. Your other hand continued to gently rub his jaw and cheek, comforting him as best you could. Draining someone was different from your typical feeding bite. You had to be more deliberate, with deeper pulls and less finesse. You couldn’t even enjoy the citrusy accents in his blood, or that fresh vanilla, no, you just had to get it all. 

Josh relaxed more in your arms as the draining progressed. You still paid close attention to his slowing heart rate, listening for the time you instinctively would know to give him your blood. It felt like it was taking too long and also flying by at the same time. As a Vampire, the whole process felt bizarre, but you were determined to get everything right. Your hunter deserved nothing but the best. 

~!~

Across the country, through a few different time zones, a young scholar was sitting across an icy blonde. Mounds of papers and stacks of books were scattered around the room, the only light coming from the various table lamps around the basement office. The scholar stood up to go to his other desk, and after shuffling around the stacks of documents he had been translating, he found his phone that had gone missing some hours before. The screen lit up with six missed calls from Josh, and a slew of texts from Jake telling him to pick up his phone. At the top of his notifications was a voicemail from his oldest brother. Confused, he unlocked his phone to listen to it. 

“Sam…Sammy it's Josh. I umm, I got into some trouble with this job, and I probably won’t be home for a while. I don’t need you to freak out, I’ve already talked to Jake. Call him after you get this, he’ll explain further. But umm….but basically I was given a choice. You know how Vampire’s can be…I’m sorry I’m being vague. But…I was going to be killed if I didn’t agree to…to be turned…and that's what's going to happen now. I wanted to tell you this myself, but you’re probably busy with your work. Which, sorry for always calling your college Hogwarts. You’re only one of us with any sort of degree, and I’ll always be proud of you for that. Sorry for stealing those files from you a few months ago, I’ll get them back to you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere, Sammy, but I’ll be…different from now on. But I’ll be back, it might not seem like it, I can promise you I’m in safe hands. This isn’t a goodbye, Sam, but I needed you to hear this from me before anyone else. I’m rambling now but…I love you-” 

The voicemail cut off, and Sam’s hands were shaking so bad the phone dropped onto the desk with a loud clatter, startling the blonde. 

“Sam, what is it,” she asked as she adjusted her cat eye glasses. 

He turned to her, knees suddenly weak, “I umm…I need to call Danny…I need Danny.”

She checked the time on her own phone and her heart sank, “Sam the moon is still out…”

The realization caused him to lean against the desk, and the sudden collapse had the blonde on her feet and over to him instantly. In the years she had known him she had never seen him like this, and she wondered what the hell he had heard on his phone. 

“Sam…come on Sam tell me what’s wrong,” he leaned down on her, burying his face into her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what to do…” he all but whimpered as his world as he knew it shattered. 

~!~

Josh’s heart rate was slow, so slow now, you knew it was time. Reluctantly you drew your hand out of his as you removed your fangs from his neck. Quickly you bit into your wrist, drawing blood and using your other hand to open his mouth. Your wrist rested against his lips as you made sure to drip as much of your blood as you could into his system. You began to worry when he didn’t react to the blood, but within seconds you felt his lips seal against your wrist, and you felt him pull from you. Relief flooded through you and you whispered praises into his ear. You weren’t sure if he could hear you, but for both of your sakes you hoped he did. 

He started to relax again, and you knew he was about to fall into that deep slumber between being alive and…one of the undead. 

Before he slipped under completely, you whispered one last time, “now come back to me, Boy Scout..”

To be continued…

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet ,

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #i see hell in your eyes #my writing #my fics #enemies to lovers #slow burn #🩸🖤 #greta van fleet #josh gvf

[cain-speaks]

❣ 𝘾𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙃 ❣ || Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ One day I'll decide how I wanna format shit lmao. ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt!! I originally had it here but decided to delete it incase you'd like to go into this kinda blind lol. ➤ If this is dumb I'm sorry I haven't had a genuine crush since like 2nd grade /gen. Also romance is NOT my strongsuit despite how much I read LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,300

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King even if they've a snowball's chance in hell at actually gaining his affections—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a heart when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flowers, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. An insistent crush and a hopeful heart and a two-timing brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how serious. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming (and daydreaming... goddamnit, brain!), you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, hoping Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone, but with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe it'd be easier to avoid him the hard way—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons ridiculously, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to form a silent scream before returning. "It's—cough—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies softly, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved huff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?" Seeming to sense a coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" He cooes with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice softens, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical mumbo jumbo you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—it was stuff you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of priceless items...), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal items. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies, that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and with the way your heart shrieked, you decided to listen. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, neither did burying them (yeah... you were thinking of everything)... but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: give it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

You expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine without so much a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" bullshit). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a, well, mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, as you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper, you can't help but feel like a sole survivor among a ruined city.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into cold-turkeying Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you! Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. You were a mortal, temporary and simple. And adaptable and well-aged as he was, Wukong was still a several-millennium old god. Rules, unspoken or otherwise, were bound to look different for various relationships, and as far as you were concerned, falling head-over-heels, squealing-into-your-pillows and feet-kicking in love with one you called your best friend was written in big red letters right under no.

So you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and blonde, orange dipped wavy hair, they make you think of summer, of singing birds and beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of growing out of this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let them down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer isn't earth-shattering (it's a public establishment, after all), but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to his growing emotion in the situation. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These feelings are temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just, please, Wukong, don't leav—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he cooes softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against your's and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

#cain speaks #[ 🧨 ] #cain writes #[ 🩸 ] #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x y/n #monkey king x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #rahh kiss scenes/romance #i haven't done them before besties be gentle BGFDBFD #august note: it's nothing new i'm just moving stuff onto blogs to organize