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awesumsaus · 6 months

Text

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window.

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core.

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare.

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle.

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip.

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior.

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired.

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his.

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed.

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry.

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps.

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to.

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you.

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up.

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist.

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.”

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take.

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands.

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it.

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him.

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core.

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs.

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see.

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away.

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold.

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response.

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity.

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face.

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky.

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him.

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him.

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated.

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily.

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours.

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again.

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission.

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure.

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you.

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole.

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you.

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment.

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way.

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes.

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide.

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you.

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core.

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer.

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod.

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought.

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds.

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take.

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name.

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare.

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge.

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled.

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried.

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain.

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness.

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear.

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of.

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?”

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet.

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity.

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin.

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates.

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away.

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room.

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording.

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object.

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil.

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later.

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you.

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction

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beansprean · 3 months

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Idk what happened but I woke up last Monday wanting to draw a 10th kingdom au for no discernible reason and SUDDENLY LIKE 2 OTHER WWDITS FOLK HAD THE SAME IDEA?? Sometimes a hive mind is TOO strong

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Sketch dump in red of Nandor and Guillermo as Wolf and Virginia, respectively, from the 2000s NBC miniseries "The 10th Kingdom". 1. Guillermo dressed in his trenchcoat over a zip up hoodie over a dark collared shirt, laying on his back on a narrow box bed with his eyes closed. Nandor, wearing a long coat with a ruffled collar and sleeves over a loose linen top and with his hair half up and tucked behind his ears, is crouched beside him with both arms propped up on the edge of the box, smiling down at him with hooded eyes. Nandor says, "and then a really cool, handsome prince comes by and he says "wow, what a rascal!" Guillermo snorts, tamping down a smile as he tries to continue to look asleep. 2. Close up of Nandor taking Guillermo by the shoulders and bringing him close with a wide, besotted smile. He says, "Guillermo, you make me all hard and soft at the same time!" Guillermo is staring at him, wide-eyed and confused, blushing. 3. Knees-up of Guillermo and Nandor sitting side by side, Guillermo sans trenchcoat and Nandor with his hair down and a visible wolf's tail curled up between them. Guillermo is looking down at the tail with some interest, petting it with one hand. Nandor has both hands clasped in his lap and his shoulders up by his ears, looking away with a silly wobbly smile and flushed cheeks. 4a. Knees up of Nandor striking a princely pose, one hand pressing fingertips to his chest and the other extended upward, palm up, as he shouts with a grin, "Rapunzel, let down your lustrous locks!" 4b. Repeat, a thick wave of shiny dark hair flops down on him from above. 5. Hips up of Nandor from behind as he braces both hands on a wooden post, shoulders hunched. His nails have formed long claws that are gouging into the wood, and the full moon is visible beyond. He looks over his shoulder, hair loose and wild, eyes glowing as his face contorts into something feral and hungry. 6. Full body of Nandor, sans jacket, skipping happily along with his chin and blouse stained with blood, flowers dancing around his head and tail bobbing along behind him. 7. Chest up of Guillermo trapped in a medieval style chair, sans trenchcoat. Nandor is standing behind him, one arm draped along the back of the chair and the other propping him up as he leans, palm out placatingly as he asks with a grin, "Don't you trust me?" Guillermo looks over his shoulder and leans away as much as possible, nervous, baffled, and angry all at once. He spits back, "No!! You tried to eat my grandmother!" At this angle we can see Nandor has a hoop in his right ear. 8. Knees up of Nandor and Guillermo standing side by side, showing off some closer details of their outfits. Nandor is smiling with a fang poking out between his lips, hands twiddling together at his waistline as he peeks over at Guillermo from the corner of his eye. Guillermo glances back at him, wary and flushed, pulling his arm up towards his chest to avoid Nandor's tail, which is wagging hard and thumping against Guillermo's side. Text nearby points to Nandor and says "wolf", and points to Guillermo and says "virgin". 9. Nandor and Guillermo sitting side by side in the back of a wagon, reading self-help books. Nandor aims an excited glance at Guillermo, biting back a silly grin. His book is titled "How To Fall In Love Without Acting Like a Freak About It." Guillermo is hunched over, eyes on his book with a kind of weary and hopeless expression. His book is titled "Become UnGovernable without compromising your morals" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #the 10th kingdom #what we do in the 10th kingdom #wwdittk au #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #wolf nandor #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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kwanisms · 6 months

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Run Rabbit, Run — k.seungmin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ vampire!Seungmin × f!Reader wc: 20.5k (sorry. it happened again lmao) summary: Seungmin is a vampire and has lived a very long life and seen many ages pass him by. He’s grown weary of immortality until he meets someone one random night who really puts things into perspective for him. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and vampiric themes, gothic undertones, predator/prey dynamics, s2l; non idol au, vampire au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Seungmin is a vampire so drinking blood and feeding from humans is a given, alcohol consumption (Y/N has a couple drinks), Seungmin is still a predatory creature so he has some… thoughts about that, minor character death, attempted SA (but nothing happens), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @lvelicky , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4 Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this one was so much fun. Seungmin is such a wild card when it comes to writing. He fits innocent types but he also fits these savage/predatory roles really well! Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please reblog or comment your favorite part! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a vampire. This ain’t twilight. But you aren’t a vampire, so use protection), blood play, orgasm control, predator/prey play, dacryphilia, use of pet names (little rabbit, sweetheart, doe, pet, etc), Seungmin is kinda mean but he also leans a little heavy into the predator role but jokes on him cause Y/N is into it so who’s the real winner here? If I missed anything just let me know.

dialogue prompt: ❛ Why are you shaking? You’re not scared of me are you? ❜

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Eternity. Humans use the word so freely.

I promise to love you for eternity. I want to live for eternity. Death is eternal.

Seungmin knew that the last one was correct. Death is eternal and it will last forever. But love? Eternal love didn’t exist. Not in the literal definition of eternal. Mortals die and then that is eternal. The love they experienced before their demise is fleeting and perishes with them.

The only thing that was eternal other than death was the waking hell Seungmin had endured for centuries; life eternal. It was supposed to be a gift. He was told it was a gift and initially, he believed it. Getting to stay young and live a long life. All he wanted was to live for a long time.

But as the ones around him withered and died, Seungmin came to see this “gift” as a curse. Life eternal was part of a bigger scam. Creating an army of vampires to take over the world. Or at least that’s what he thought. He’d been changed upon his request and then left alone. No guidance, no mentor, nothing to help him navigate this new life he’d been unceremoniously dropped into.

Seungmin had to learn as he went, adapting and changing at a much quicker rate. He made mistakes along the way but eventually he found a path and stuck to it. It wasn’t until those around him started dying of old age, people he’d grown up with, that he started to see the error he’d made.

Each generation that passed, Seungmin grew more and more dissatisfied with life as an immortal. He stopped forming relationships and bonds with people because he’d lived this story so many times, he knew how it ended. It was better to not feel. Better to not get attached.

He moved from continent to continent, city to city. Perhaps that was the only good thing about living for so long. Being able to see more in his infinite lifetime than a mortal could see in their limited years. Decades turned into centuries and Seungmin had been to more cities and countries than he could count. He’d seen more and done more than anyone could ever hope to see or do.

So why was he still so [word]? He’d been given the gift of immortality, he’d been to so many places and seen so much and yet… none of it filled the void in his soul. None of it left him feeling fulfilled or satisfied with life. He still held so much disdain for his existence.

Even as he stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the vast forest below. It was a great fall, one that would surely kill a man before he even hit the ground but Seungmin was no mere man. Would a fall from this distance even leave a mark on him? Would his body break and finally free him from this cursed life? He had no way of knowing. It wasn’t exactly like he’d been given a manual on this.

How to Commit Suicide as a Vampire for Dummies wasn’t a title that would ever grace the shelves of Barnes & Noble. He’d have to just try. It was trial and error at this point. He’d tried so many different things. Poison didn’t even register. Knives and swords did nothing, not even a wooden stake through the heart had come close to killing him. Bullets did nothing either and they were annoying to remove.

He’d tried drowning himself in the ocean only to discover he didn’t need to breathe. He’d tried starvation only for his instincts to kick in at the last minute and force him to feed on whatever was nearby. He’d tried jumping from other heights but none this high.

If this didn’t work, he felt the only thing that might kill him was extreme pressures.

Seungmin was so absorbed in his own thoughts of death that he didn’t realize he was no longer alone.

You stared at the man, noticing how close he was to the edge of the clearing. A fall from this height would surely kill him. You glanced up at his face and could help but stare. You’d never seen such… sadness before.

He looked as if he was deep in thought. You glanced out over the forest below and then back at the man. ‘Surely he isn’t thinking about jumping,’ you sincerely hoped silently.

A simple hike in the mountains was what you had expected when you came to this national park. What you hadn’t expected was to find a man standing on the edge, possibly about to end his life. You glanced around the clearing to find it was just the two of you.

Looking back at the man, you were reminded of your own struggles with depression, thoughts of suicide, almost attempts but in the end, it got better and so did you. You wondered if it would make a difference in his life whether you stopped him now. Even if just to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, keeping your eyes fixated on the man. You stopped a few paces behind him but kept a good few feet between you. Turning your gaze from his profile, you looked over the trees below.

“What a view,” you said softly. Your voice must have startled him because his head snapped to look at you, alarm etched on his face. You kept your gaze over the trees, looking around and taking in the splendor of it all. The man kept his gaze focused on you. “It’s so beautiful,” you continued, still not looking at him.

Out of your periphery, you could see him turn his head back to look out over the forest. “It’s the same as all the others,” he said softly. “All the others?” you asked, finally turning your head to look at him. You allowed yourself to actually look at him this time, focusing on the details you couldn’t see before.

His smooth, flawless complexion, the reddish brown color of his hair blowing in the gentle breeze. He wore a simple white button down under a black blazer and black slacks. He looked like he just came from an office job. Not dressed for a hike in the mountains.

He had no supplies, no wilderness gear, no backpack or sleeping bag.

It hit you then and made your heart rate speed up as you hoped you were wrong.

‘He’s come here to die.’

You looked around, trying to think of anything you could to distract him.

“Have you been to a lot of forests then?” you blurted out. He turned his head to look at you, brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice a little louder this time. He looked and sounded genuinely confused by your question.

“You said it’s the same as all the others. So you must have been to a lot of forests to make that statement,” you replied. ‘Yes, this is good, Y/N. Keep him talking. Keep him distracted.’

“Do you travel a lot?”

The man stared at you, a look of perplexion on his face. Almost as if he was wondering why you were even talking to him in the first place. “I’ve heard the forests in the Carpathian Mountains are gorgeous this time of year,” you continued, looking away from him. “The changing of leaves, the cool autumn air, the influx of wildlife preparing for winter hibernation,” you said with a smile.

“I’ll bet it’s beautiful--”

“It is,” he said, cutting you off. You turned to look at him. His eyes were still on you. “A little colder than you’re probably imagining though,” he added. “Transylvania is also beautiful this time of year,” he continued. You took a cautious half step forward. “Have you been to Romania?” you asked.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter, amusement on his face for a brief moment. “I’ve been all over,” he replied. “Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia,” he listed off. “I’ve even spent time in the Antarctic.” Your eyes widened with wonder. “For work or…?” you trailed off as he shook his head. “Not exactly,” he answered.

“I’ve lived a very unique… life,” he added, forcing the last word out after some consideration. You tilted your head curiously. “Would you tell me about it?” you asked. He turned his head again, meeting your gaze and a shiver went up your spine. It was almost as if looking into his eyes flipped your flight or fight response and every nerve in your body was telling you to run but you couldn’t.

Not because you were frozen in fear but because this man, a man who was on the verge of possibly throwing himself off the edge of a cliff, thousands of feet off the ground below had lived a unique life and if getting him to talk about it meant he’d step away from the cliff and live his life a little bit longer, then you couldn’t run.

Not if it meant he lived.

He scoffed and turned back to the cliff. “What are you? Some kind of shrink?” he asked, a bitter sound to his voice. You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “You just look like you have a lot of stories to tell,” you continued. “And if you’d like. I’ll listen to you.”

Seungmin didn’t know why, but when he looked at you, he felt as if he could talk to you and that you might actually listen to him. Something deep in him was telling him to talk to you. To keep living a little while longer, even if just to share his stories with you because you were right.

He had a lot of stories.

He found himself spilling almost everything to you. His weariness with life, his solitude, and his exhaustion. He was exhausted with everything. He had grown almost sick of living, sick of being alone, and sick of being alone for so long.

The best thing about you, Seungmin noted, was that you didn’t interrupt or judge him. You listened with rapt attention but it didn’t feel forced or fake. Your genuine curiosity was refreshing and although he knew he shouldn’t get attached, Seungmin found himself craving your company.

Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long and you were the first person to show him any interest beyond flirtation or sexual desire. He was unaccustomed to such attention after centuries of not experiencing it and this was the first conversation he’d had with a mortal in ages.

Seungmin took a deep breath, having finished the story of his most recent trip to Europe. A trip that spanned months and took him to places most people never think to visit. The sun had long set since he started his stories and the sky was beginning to lighten, indicating he’d spent the whole night talking.

But more importantly, you’d spent an entire night listening to him. Mortals had such a short time on the planet and yet you’d chosen to spend an entire night listening to him tell you stories of his life and his travels.

And you had actually listened to him.

“Sorry for taking up your whole night,” Seungmin said, glancing back at the sky as it started to lighten into shades of blue and purple. You shook your head, lifting your head from its resting place against your hand. “Not at all,” you replied. “It was fascinating. Thank you for sharing with me,” you replied.

“I’m sure you need to get going,” Seungmin said as you stood up from the log you’d taken a seat on next to him. “What about you?” you asked, looking down at him. Seungmin stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I’ll walk with you,” he answered. “Are you heading back to your car?”

You nodded. “I was only supposed to hike up and spend the night,” you replied, starting to walk and he kept pace with you. “And I guess in a way I did that,” you added with a chuckle, one that Seungmin shared. The walk back was punctuated by more stories, not nearly as grand as the ones he’d shared before. Smaller stories about random events and chance encounters on his travels.

The sun was climbing above the trees as the two of you reached the bottom of the mountain, the small gravel parking lot coming into sight where your cat sat, waiting for your triumphant return. “This has probably been the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had,” you started as Seungmin stopped a few paces from your car and you turned to look at him.

“Thank you again,” Seungmin said. “For listening to me.” You offered him a dazzling smile, one that might have taken his breath away had he not already been dead. “Thank you for allowing me to listen,” you replied. You turned and opened the hatch on the back of your car, removing and placing your pack in the back before shutting the door and heading around to the driver’s side.

Seungmin realized at that moment that he’d never gotten your name nor had he shared his.

“Wait,” he called, stepping forward. You hesitated as you pulled open the door and looked up at him.

“What’s your name?” he asked. A smile spread over your face. “Y/N,” you answered.

Seungmin smiled the first genuine smile in years. “Y/N,” he repeated. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Seungmin.” Your smile widened slightly as you finished pulling open your door. “It’s good to meet you, too,” you replied. “See you around, yeah?” you asked before ducking your head and getting into the car.

Seungmin watched as you backed out of your spot and waved at him one last time before pulling out of the parking area and disappearing through the trees on the dirt road, leaving him alone in the clearing.

“Yeah,” he said softly to himself. “See you around.”

The funny thing about time when one has lived as long as Seungmin is that days, weeks, even months, go by in the blink of an eye. At least until Seungmin had met you. Suddenly, life seemed to drag on yet still, days went by, turning into weeks and yet all that occupied his mind was his meeting with you. The random hiker who had somehow managed to save his life.

He’d tried to find you but to no avail. He only had a single name to go off of. Several times, he’d gone back to the national forest, trying the same hiking trail he’d met you on and even trying others but he had no luck it would seem. Finding you was starting to seem impossible.

Despite being a mostly lonely creature, Seungmin did have one contact he’d kept over the years.

Wonpil.

Seungmin had met the man during a brief stint in the military, meeting the combat medic who turned out to be the same as him, an immortal. A friendship was formed and over the years, even if they hadn’t seen one another for decades, their bond remained intact.

In the modern age, Seungmin could rely on Wonpil for three things.

Loyalty

Perspective

And blood in the form of blood bags.

He never asked how Wonpil was able to acquire them without rousing suspicion but the how wasn’t exactly important. In a day where everyone carried a phone with cameras and facial recognition almost everywhere, Seungmin had to be careful not to feed from living people.

Most immortals who lived in the modern age had switched to feeding from animals, going hunting in the forests instead of feeding from humans. It was safer but even so, one wrong move and an immortal could be caught on camera feeding from a deer or some other woodland critter.

Seungmin had tried the animal diet when he lived in areas closer to the wild but in the city, one was limited on options. So Wonpil, with his job in the hospital, was able to sneak around and steal blood bags without anyone finding out.

It had worked out so well for this life as they were in the same area for once, settled into false identities but Seungmin’s was about to expire. He needed to move on, start anew to avoid drawing attention. He could only pretend to be thirty for so long until suspicions arose.

During one of their meetups so Wonpil could deliver Seungmin’s monthly supply of blood, Seungmin had told his friend of his chance encounter in the woods and Wonpil found it both endearing and amusing. He’d told Seungmin to stop focusing and obsessing over one woman. “You need to go out there and get laid,” he chuckled. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to get laid,” he retorted, taking the messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Not in this day and age,” he added. Wonpil snorted, crossing his arms as he looked over his shoulder. “This day and age is perfect for that,” he replied.

“No one wants a relationship. They just want something casual,” he added. Seungmin shook his head. They’d had this conversation before but he was still reluctant. What if he ended up liking the person too much? He’d get attached and then just end up hurting them when he inevitably had to leave.

He was far too reluctant to get himself into that situation. Wonpil sighed and placed a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. “Suit yourself,” he said before patting him and walking away. Seungmin returned home after that and went about his usual routine of cleaning up and putting away his supply.

It was a few days later that things completely changed.

He’d gone by a coffee shop to meet Wonpil for something, he couldn’t even remember what. It’s not like he needed the coffee or any other item the shop offered. It just made them look normal. Made them blend in more.

Wonpil had left after his business and Seungmin had gotten up to leave when he bumped into someone as he reached the door. The sudden action caused him to spin away from the door as did the person who he bumped into, spinning to face him and Seungmin couldn’t believe his eyes.

There you were, looking back at him, shock on your face.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, seconds stretching into minutes as the two of you stared at one another unmoving, unblinking. Seungmin found it hard to hear anything happening around him. Like everything had been muffled the way the world sounded when one submerged themselves in water.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

As if that was the magic word to break the spell, just as quickly as the world stopped, it picked up again. The sounds of chatter, the sounds of the coffee and espresso machines, the ding of the cash register and the ringing of the bell at the door as new patrons flooded in.

“Seungmin,” you said softly, your lips spreading into another one of your dazzling smiles. “Hey,” Seungmin said, mirroring your smile. “How have you been?” you asked and he stepped aside as someone tried to squeeze past him.

“I’ve been okay,” Seungmin admitted. “A lot better than that day, actually,” he added. Your smile widened, a brief spell of relief washing over your face. “Good,” you said with a nod. “I’m glad to hear that.” Seungmin noted how a silence fell between you but he had no idea what to say.

He’d never experienced this. He’d never not been able to keep a conversation going before. He’d never felt like a school boy talking to his childhood crush before. It was foreign to him. Finally, a feeling he’d never experienced. Something new.

“I wondered if you were just passing through,” you admitted as you stepped aside, pulling the strap of your bag back up on your shoulder as patrons filed past the two of you. “If you weren’t living in the city but instead just on your way through.”

Seungmin shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I live here. Not in this neighborhood,” he added. “But a few blocks north.” Silence again. Why was he so bad at this? Had your first meeting been this awkward and he’d blocked it out because he’d been so focused on wanting to end things?

“Are you staying?” he asked suddenly. You tilted your head in confusion. “Here,” Seungmin added. ‘No. Stupid. You need to elaborate further.’ “What I meant,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Are you getting your order for here?” Your confusion melted away, a small smirk presenting itself.

“I’m on my way to work actually,” you answered. Seungmin felt his heart sink just a little before he had an idea. “Would it be alright if I walked you?” The words left his lips before he could even register them. Your smirk morphed into a bright smile and you nodded. “I just need to place my order,” you said, pointing at the counter.

Seungmin nodded and pointed towards the door. “I’ll just wait out here for you,” he answered. He could have waited inside with you but the cafe was starting to get crowded. Too many warm bodies and where there were warm bodies, there was blood. He needed to clear his head.

Thankfully you didn’t find this odd, only nodding before joining the queue.

Outside the cool autumn air helped Seungmin quell his thirst. Pushing back the beast that threatened to rear its ugly head and make him do something that he would regret. ‘You only have a couple weeks left before you have to leave,’ he reminded himself.

But for some reason, reminding himself of that made him sad.

Before he could dwell on that feeling for too long, the door opened and you joined him on the sidewalk. “Ready?” he asked and you nodded, carrying a hot cup of coffee and a small paper sack. Seungmin followed your lead, keeping pace with you as you walked.

He learned that you had lived in the city for a few months. Your move came with a transfer with your job.

“What do you do?” he asked as you took a sip of your coffee, sighing softly. You sniffled, the cold air no doubt nipping at your skin and making your nose run. Seungmin hadn’t experienced that in centuries. He didn’t remember what it was like to feel cold or warmth.

“I’m a pediatric nurse,” you replied. “I work at Seoul General,” you added as you continued walking. ‘Seoul General?’ Seungmin thought. “Oh,” he said, nodding. “I have a friend that works there, actually.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. Whether it was excitement or curiosity, Seungmin couldn’t tell.

“Oh really?” you asked. “I wonder if I’ve met them yet,” you added. Seungmin shrugged as the hospital started to come into view. “Perhaps you have,” he replied. “Who’s your friend?” you asked, looking at him. “Wonpil. Kim Wonpil,” Seungmin answered.

Your eyes lit up. “I know Dr. Kim!” you replied. ‘Excitement,’ Seungmin noted. ‘Definitely excitement.’ He smiled as you started to slow your pace. “I didn’t know you were friends with Dr. Kim!” Seungmin chuckled at your response as you neared the doors.

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” he replied. “We go way back.”

You glanced at the doors briefly before looking back at Seungmin. “I need to get clocked in but could I get your number? Maybe we can meet up for drinks or coffee sometime?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Seungmin’s heart sank. ‘Number? Oh no…’

Seungmin had managed to adapt to the times. Following trends, especially fashion. He understood email, he understood online ordering, he got all of it. The one thing Seungmin hadn’t seemed to keep up with were mobile phones.

He’d never had one, nor had he ever used one. Wonpil had one. Of course he did, but Seungmin hadn’t quite caught up to that part yet. Even if it was 2023. And now he had the misfortune of telling you that he didn’t have a mobile phone.

“Uh…” he hesitated, uncertain of how to even explain this. You stared at him expectantly. He wondered what was going through your head, rushing to explain before he lost the opportunity. “I don’t have one,” he finally managed to blurt out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times as you processed his words. ‘Great. Now she probably thinks you’re some kind of weirdo.’ After a moment of silence, you wordlessly opened your purse, fishing out a small pad of paper and a pen and quickly scratched something down. “Here,” you said, holding out the paper. “It’s my number,” you said, smiling at him.

He didn’t detect any sarcasm as you spoke. “If you end up getting one sometime, give me a call. Or a text,” you said as you dropped the pen and paper back into your bag. “And then we can get that coffee,” you added, giving him a wink. “I’ll see you around,” you called as you backed towards the hospital entrance.

Seungmin looked up as you waved. He waved back. “I’ll call you!” he called back and you sent him a thumbs up before entering the hospital and leaving him standing on the sidewalk in awe of what just happened. He looked back down at the small piece of paper in his hand. Your number looked back at him, the numbers silently judging him for not owning a phone.

Yet you didn’t. You didn’t even question it. Surely you thought it strange he didn’t have a mobile phone in such a technologically advanced age and city. Seoul was a hub of technology and of technological advancements but yet you said nothing on the subject, merely offering a solution.

Seungmin tucked the paper in his wallet carefully and started back down the sidewalk, a new confidence in his step. He knew exactly what he had to do. He needed to update, get with the times. His walk took him through the front door of a high rise building, catching the elevator up to the seventeenth floor.

He reached the apartment he’d been looking for, raising his fist and knocking heavily on the door three times. Then three more when no one answered. He knocked three more times before he heard the lock slide and the door opened, Wonpil appearing before him with a look of annoyance and confusion.

“What is your problem?” he asked, looking around. “I was sleeping,” he added. Seungmin stared back at him. “What?” Wonpil asked. “You look like you just murdered someone,” he joked. “Do you need help with the body?” he added under his breath. Seungmin shook his head. “That’s not what I need help with,” he replied.

“Then why are you pounding on my door? You know I sleep during the day because I work overnight shifts for the next two weeks,” Wonpil asked. “I do need your help,” Seungmin clarified. Wonpil nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “With what?” he asked as he let Seungmin into the apartment.

“It must be urgent if you’re coming in here, guns blazing,” he joked as he walked over to the kitchen island and looked back at Seungmin who nodded. “I got her number.”

Wonpil stared blankly at him. “Got whose number?” he asked. “Y/N’s,” Seungmin replied. Wonpil’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, really? When? How?” Seungmin explained how just after he left the cafe, Seungmin ran into Y/N and then walked her to work. “And she works at your hospital,” he continued.

Wonpil smirked as he hopped up onto the kitchen island to sit. “I can totally hook you two up,” he said as Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I don’t need you to hook me up,” he replied.

Wonpil held his hands up. “Then what do you need my help with?” he asked, looking confused. Seungmin cleared his throat before looking up at his friend. “I need a mobile phone. Now.”

Since acquiring the phone, Seungmin hadn’t been able to bring himself to make the call. Each time he picked up the device and tried to type out a message, it just didn’t feel right. Wonpil had sat down and shown him exactly how to use the device and even gave him some tips and pointers but it just felt… wrong.

After the tenth attempt at texting, Seungmin erased the message and set the phone down on the table in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t he just send a text? It wasn’t that hard, right?

He stared at the screen, hearing the ticking of the clock on the wall as he stared. He stared for a couple more minutes before grabbing it again and instead of typing he pressed the call button. This had to be easier, right? Talking was easier than trying to type.

Wonpil had been very precise that Seungmin did not write his texts like emails. It would make him look really weird and the last thing Seungmin wanted was for you to think he was weird.

He was certain if his heart had a beat that it would be pounding in his chest as he listened to the ringing through the receiver. If he could sweat, his palms would be clammy. Even if he was nervous, there was no way for him to express it except in his voice when you finally did answer.

“Hello?” Your voice sounded just as lovely as the last time he’d heard it. “Hello?” you said again. ‘Fuck. Answer her!’

“H-hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. Seungmin quickly recovered, crossing his arm over his chest and tucking his hand under his arm. “Uh, hi,” you replied, sounding unsure. “Who is this?” Seungmin started to pace from the kitchen to the living room.

“It-it’s Seungmin,” he clarified, clearing his throat, trying to push his nerves away and keep the conversation going. “Oh hey!” you said, instantly sounded much more excited to hear from him. ‘That’s a good sign,’ he told himself. “So you got a phone?” you asked.

Seungmin nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. Wonpil had warned him that almost no one said ‘yes’ over the phone except “boomers” and that Seungmin did not want to be lumped in with them.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” you said jokingly, making Seungmin chuckle nervously. “Am I your first call?” you asked and Seungmin hesitated. Should he say yes? Should he lie and say no? He decided against lying. “Yes,” he replied.

“I’m flattered,” you said and though Seungmin knew you were joking, he could tell it was just in good humor. He smiled to himself. “So,” you started and Seungmin heard the sound of rustling on the other side of the phone. Almost like the sound of sheets. Were you home in bed? He tried not to think about you in bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being your first mobile phone call?”

Seungmin straightened up, moving his free hand to slip into his pocket. “I’m not entirely sure,” he answered truthfully. “To be honest, I didn’t have a plan when I called you.” He heard you chuckle lightly on the other end. “So you’re just winging it?” you asked. Seungmin laughed, continuing to pace slowly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied. His nerves had calmed down and he found it easy to talk to you like this. “Well, how about I invite you out to dinner?” you asked, catching him off guard. ‘Dinner?’

“Like… a date?” Seungmin asked, waiting anxiously for your answer. “Or like two friends getting to know each other, if that makes you more comfortable. No expectations.” Seungmin paused, looking around his apartment slowly. The boxes in the corner that were half packed to the bare walls. He only had a few more weeks here in the city. ‘What the hell,’ he thought. ‘Why not?’

“Sure,” he replied. “Perfect. How about Saturday?” you asked. “I start a new rotation tomorrow so I’ll be free in the evenings.” You sounded excited about this and Seungmin tried not to get his hopes up. After all, he couldn’t get attached. He was moving soon. “Saturday works,” he replied.

“Great, I’ll text you the location of the restaurant,” you continued and Seungmin chuckled. “I don’t get a say in this?” he asked and you giggled. “I’m inviting you out, so no,” you replied. “I’ll see you Saturday, seven o’clock?” Seungmin’s smile widened.

“Seven o’clock,” he repeated. “It’s a date.”

Saturday came much too quickly for his liking and internally, Seungmin was panicking. He didn’t know how to do any of this. He was from a completely different time period. He had no idea how dating in the 21st century worked. He’d seen movies and television shows but none of it prepared him for what he was getting himself into.

You had sent a text with the location of the restaurant and Seungmin arrived at six-fifty, giving himself plenty of time to prepare to spend a few hours with you in a restaurant full of people. He’d chosen to walk, enjoying the scenery of the city as the sun slowly descended behind the buildings and the way the sky erupted into oranges and pinks as the celestial body sank further below the horizon.

The restaurant was a small upscale place nestled into the base of one of the many high rises near the heart of the city. Seungmin glanced through one of the large square windows on the front of the building, allowing him a glimpse inside the establishment.

Couple sat at small round white draped tables, eating their meals by candlelight and sipping their drinks. He noticed a familiar face sitting at the bar in a fitted black satin dress. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, thanking the attendant who opened the door and let him in.

Once inside, he was greeted by a host who promptly asked him for the name for his reservation but Seungmin didn’t look at him. His eyes were trained on you as you turned, catching his eye and smiling as you waved. Seungmin pointed in your direction.

“My date is at the bar,” he said to the host who turned to look back at you. “Ah yes,” he said, turning back to the book. “Your table is not quite ready but I will inform you when it is.” Seungmin nodded and squeezed past the host, making his way over to where you sat.

Inside, he had a better look at what you’d chosen to wear and he was glad he decided to dress up as everyone in the restaurant had the same idea. You smiled as he reached you, sliding into the seat beside you. “You’re early,” you noted, looking up from your drink.

He hadn’t noticed it before but you’d ordered a cocktail and it was half finished. He wondered how long you’d been waiting. “As are you,” Seungmin noted as he settled into the seat. You flashed him a sheepish smile and turned your attention to your drink.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked and you shook your head, taking a sip of your drink. “Only a few minutes,” you replied as the bartender approached. “Can I get you anything, sir?” he asked, directing his question at Seungmin. “Whiskey, neat please,” Seungmin said as he pulled his wallet out. The bartender nodded and turned to start pouring Seungmin’s order.

“Whiskey without any chaser? You sound like a simple man,” you said, toying with the stem of your glass. A moment later, Seungmin’s drink was set in front of him and he thanked the man, passing him a couple notes. “I try to be,” Seungmin said, lifting the glass to take a sip.

“So, how does it feel to have finally joined us in the twenty-first century,” you asked, leaning on your arm against the counter. Seungmin felt his lips twitch into a smirk. “You make me sound like I’m ancient and out of touch with reality,” he mused, taking another sip.

“Are you?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Out of touch with reality?” Seungmin asked, watching as you shrugged your shoulders. “Or ancient?” Seungmin could have sworn his dead heart tried to skip a beat but it lay still in his chest.

He scoffed, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass. “What makes you think that?” he asked before looking back up to meet your gaze. You studied his features carefully, eyes lingering on his for a moment longer than he liked.

Before you could respond, the two of you were interrupted.

“Excuse me,” the host from before said. Both you and Seungmin turned at the same time. “Your table is ready.”

Once you migrated from the bar with your drinks, Seungmin ordered another whiskey while you both looked over the menu, looking for something that he could ingest without arousing suspicion. “Do you eat a lot of Italian food?” Seungmin asked, looking up from his menu.

You shook your head. “No,” you admitted. “Unless you count pizza,” you joked. Seungmin smiled, returning to the black words before him. He settled on a steak with a simple side dish while you ordered some kind of seafood pasta.

“I’ve heard the pizza in Italy is nothing like the rest of the world,” you said as you picked up your water glass. Seungmin nodded, setting his now empty whiskey glass down. “It is,” he replied. You looked up from your glass. “You’ve been to Italy, too? Why am I not surprised,” you mused with a smirk.

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders, smiling back. “I’ve been all over Europe,” he reminded you. You set your water glass down and leaned forward slightly. “And the States,” you added to his statement. He nodded. “And Asia,” he continued. “Hmm,” you hummed, looking down at his fingers drumming against the white tablecloth.

“What’s the best place you’ve visited? Your favorite,” you asked, clarifying what you meant at the end. Seungmin hesitated. That was a good question. One he doesn’t think he’s ever answered. Then again, he didn’t make a habit of conversing with people other than Wonpil. What was his favorite place to visit?

As he pondered, the server stopped by the table. “Would you like another drink, sir?” he asked, to which Seungmin shook his head. “No thank you,” he replied. “Two is my limit,” he added, looking up as the server nodded, taking the empty whiskey glass.

You fought the urge to smile, thanking the server as he took your empty cocktail glass as well. “Would you like another?” he asked softly. Seungmin saw your eyes flicker to him and then back and you nodded. “Just one more. Three is my limit,” you replied, turning to look at Seungmin with a smirk.

He returned the smile before looking away. “So, my favorite place?” he asked. You nodded again. “A place you couldn’t forget, even if you tried,” you replied. Seungmin’s eyes widened comically as he chortled. “Wow. Okay, no pressure then,” he said as he shifted in his seat.

“I think I’d have to pick Milan. Especially during autumn. It’s spectacular,” he replied. You rested your chin in your hand, watching as he explained. “In summer, it’s just so hot and humid. Especially in July and August. But in autumn? Perfect. Temperatures aren’t hot, it’s mild. Absolutely gorgeous,” he added.

You sat back as the server returned with not only your drink but also the food. Seungmin was surprised by the portions, especially of your pasta. He knew he’d only be able to eat part of his meal. He’d have to take the rest to go.

As the two of you ate, he asked you more questions. He learned you moved to Seoul for work. He asked about your hometown and your family. He was surprised to learn that your parents still lived in your hometown and that you went home almost every year during the holidays.

He also learned that you loved animals, cats were among your favorite and that you actually had a cat at home in your apartment. He learned that you had a studio apartment in a high rise a few blocks west of the coffee shop that had a view of the river.

You told him how you loved books. You loved to read and most of your free time was spent curled up on your couch with a blanket, a hot cup of tea, and a book in your hands. Sometimes your cat curled up in your lap and sometimes she would curl up next to you as you read.

Seungmin focused more on your words than his food and when the server came by he asked for the rest of it to go. Once the food was packed up and your drink finished, Seungmin fished his wallet out and you held up your hand. “I invited you out,” you started but Seungmin was much quicker, handing his wallet to the server.

You stared at him, looking up to find the confused look on the server’s face. Seungmin glanced up, realizing his mistake in an instant. “Sorry,” he muttered, snatching his wallet, opening it and handing the card over. The server walked away, still processing what just happened as you looked down at the table, biting your bottom lip to hold in the laugh Seungmin knew was trying to escape.

“I meant to do that, you know,” he addressed you. Nodding, he could tell you didn’t quite believe him. He looked down at the table, silence falling over you as he, too, processed what he’d just done. As it set in, he snorted, holding back a laugh. Never before had he done something so absentminded as hand his entire wallet to a server to pay for a meal before.

How weird did he look? Would the server take it as stupidity or pretentiousness? As the server returned with the slip, Seungmin thanked him, holding back his laughter. He signed the slip and left a generous tip. He quickly returned his card to its home in his wallet and looked up at you.

“We should probably go,” he said softly. Your shoulders were shaking from holding back your laughter. You cleared your throat and nodded, getting up and Seungmin followed, grabbing the bag of to-go food. You both hurried towards the entrance, thanking the staff as you exited the building.

Once outside, you took one look at Seungmin, meeting his eye and both of you burst into laughter, ignoring the looks of other pedestrians as they passed by you. “What the hell was that?” you asked, your laughter subsiding only for a moment.

“I have no idea,” Seungmin replied, laughing just as hard. “I’ve never done that before!”

As the two of you started down the sidewalk, you continued to laugh about the wallet situation.

“It was just the look on his face,” you said, giggling hysterically. “He was so confused!”

“I know! I wish I could have read his mind. I wonder if he thought I was some pretentious asshole,” Seungmin countered. “Or just dumb,” you snorted. “Not that you are,” you clarified quickly. Seungmin burst into another round of laughter.

“I mean, I did just try to pay for our meals by handing over my entire wallet like we were getting mugged in an alley,” he reminded you, another round of laughter emitting from both of you.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your building and Seungmin stopped as you did, looking up at your building. “This is me,” you noted, turning back to look at him. Seungmin nodded.

“It’s getting cold out here,” he replied, his eyes threatening to dip down to look over your body again. He’d avoided it back in the restaurant by looking at other things in the establishment but out here, alone, in front of your apartment building he found it much harder to resist.

“It is,” you nodded. Silence fell between you but it wasn’t awkward this time. There was a certain tension. Something Seungmin hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sexual tension. He cleared his throat softly, noticing how you drew your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you want to come up?” you asked softly and Seungmin froze. He had no expectations going into this, knowing he was going to be leaving the city and his current life behind in a couple weeks so your question caught him off guard. Could he? He could, he was capable of going up to your apartment and giving you what you were probably expecting. He had the ability to do so.

But could he do that, knowing that something more might come out of it when he knew he was leaving? Could he do that to you or to himself? Was he strong enough to give in for just a couple weeks and then leave, never to return? He knew the answer to that question before he even asked himself.

“No,” he said softly, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile. “I’m afraid I’m a bit more old fashioned,” he added. The brief hurt on your face was replaced by understanding. The classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ tactic. You returned his smile. “I understand,” you replied.

“That’s actually kind of refreshing,” you added. “Most guys can’t wait for the date to get to this part, hoping I’ll invite them up but to be honest,” you explained. “I almost never invite them in.”

Seungmin felt a small surge of pride. It felt good to know that you felt comfortable enough to invite him in although you should feel anything but comfortable in his presence. “Maybe another time,” you added. Seungmin nodded wordlessly, not wanting to give you any false hope.

The man in him was screaming at him, cursing at him for letting you walk away. You stepped forward, closing the distance and kissing him on the cheek. It happened so quickly, Seungmin couldn’t stop it without hurting you physically or emotionally. When you drew back, you uttered a soft goodnight and turned to head up the steps to your building’s door.

Seungmin stood rooted to the spot, watching you walk away. He finally allowed him the chance to look over your body, the man in him still screaming at the lost opportunity to have you beneath him. Once you were safely inside, Seungmin turned and started in the direction of his apartment, going over the events of the night in his mind.

It had been awkward for him at first but he was surprised by how easily you both seemed to get along. The conversation, the joking, the wallet situation that still made him chuckle. The chemistry was there, he couldn’t deny it. And so when you called him a couple days later, asking him on another date, he couldn’t find it in him to say no.

Nor when you asked him on another. He enjoyed every minute he spent with you. He enjoyed your company far more than he enjoyed Wonpil’s, though he’d never tell his friend that. He normally shied away from humans physically but with you, everything felt natural.

The way you grabbed his hand when you were walking, the way you leaned into him, even when you kissed his cheek goodnight after he turned your offer to come up again and again. Everything with you felt right. Each time spent with you only drew him closer and closer to when he’d have to say goodbye.

He had a week left and so he decided to invite you out for once, calling you up.

“Oh, sorry,” you said over the receiver. He could hear the sound of you moving around your apartment. “I actually have plans tonight.” Seungmin felt his stomach sink. ‘Plans?’ he wondered and briefly, he thought maybe he’d turned you down one too many times until you spoke again.

“Yeah, my friend Ami is in town and it’s her birthday so we’re going to the club tonight,” you explained. Seungmin felt the weight in his stomach dissipate and he felt better instantly. “Oh? Where at?” he asked. “At this new club down by the main strip in Gangnam,” you replied. He heard the clicking of heels. You must be getting ready to leave.

“Well, have fun and be safe,” Seungmin said as he heard your keys jingle through the phone. “Thanks,” you said, a smile in your voice. “I’ll be careful,” you added. “And tell your friend I said happy birthday.” Your chuckle rang out and it made Seungmin miss hearing it in person. “I will,” you replied.

“I gotta go,” you said as Seungmin heard you open your door. “I’ll let you know when I get there and when I get home,” you added. “If it’ll make you feel better.” Seungmin smiled to himself. “It would, actually,” he answered. “Thank you.”

After you hung up, Seungmin plugged his phone in, hurrying through the apartment and changed at inhuman speed before returning to his phone, snatching it up and dialing Wonpil’s number. After the second ring, Wonpil answered the phone.

“What’s up?” he asked and Seungmin looked at himself in the mirror above the dining room table. “Do you have plans right now?” he asked. Wonpil fell silent for a moment before answering. “No?” he said hesitantly. “Want to go do something?” Seungmin asked.

“Dude, are you finally enjoying life again?” Wonpil asked, sounding both shocked and excited. “Well,” Seungmin said, playing with his hair, trying to get some of it to lay a certain way. “I’ve been on like 4 dates with Y/N,” he answered.

He heard Wonpil whoop through the phone. “Finally! You got laid!” Seungmin’s smile fell. “Actually about that,” he started and he could hear Wonpil groan through the phone. “Dude!” Seungmin held up his finger, even if Wonpil couldn’t see him. “To be fair, I’m leaving the city in like a week,” he explained.

“You know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go out,” Wonpil said. “Where are we going?”

A smile spread across his face. “Have you been to the new club in Gangnam?”

Getting to the club was easy, and meeting Ami and Hae-eun was even easier. You hated turning Seungmin down but you’d had these plans for a couple weeks now. You could always see him another day. “Y/N!” Ami said excitedly as you joined her and Hae-eun in line.

“Hey,” you said, giving her a hug before you turned to hug Hae-eun. “Look at you,” Hae-eun said, looking at your dress. “I’ve been wanting to wear this for a while,” you admitted. “But I don’t have a chance to go to clubs anymore.”

“Is that hospital overworking?” Ami asked as the line moved closer to the door. “No,” you replied, waving your hand as you took a step forward with your friends. “I’ve actually started dating,” you admitted. Ami gasped dramatically. “No way,” she said and Hae-eun lightly slapped her arm.

“Stop teasing her,” Hae-eun chastised. “I think it’s great,” she added as the three of you took another step closer to the doors. “I like that you’re settled in enough to start dating again.” You smiled at her, thanking her silently.

It only took a few minutes more to get to the door, show your IDs to the bouncer and get inside after paying your cover charge.

Once inside, you maneuvered through the crowd towards the bar to order drinks. Hae-eun opened the first tab on her card and once you each had a drink or two in Ami’s case, the three of you tried to find an open table and were lucky enough to find three open places on one of the sofas.

Playing catch up over drinks and the loud music was difficult but you managed and after downing a drink, Hae-eun dragged both you and Ami onto the floor, even if you lost your spot. It had been a while since you’d been dancing with your friends but it was nice to let loose.

Seungmin had been a blessing, spending time with him helped you unwind but you couldn’t lie that you were left feeling a little frustrated each time he declined to come back up to your apartment at the end of each date. You understood his position completely. He wasn’t a casual sex kind of guy and you couldn’t fault him for that but you couldn’t deny that you were really hot for him.

Like really really hot.

You’d had more than one dream that left you even more frustrated than before.

“I need water!” you called over the heavy bass to your friends who nodded and continued to dance as you squeezed through the crowd of sweaty patrons and headed for the bar to get some water.

You were glad you chose a comfortable dress that was still form fitting and showed off your curves. As you approached the bar, you smiled at the bartender who stopped in front of you. “Water please,” you said, leaning in and grabbing a napkin or two, starting to dab at your forehead and neck.

As you waited, you managed to dab and wipe away some of the sweat, tossing the napkins away as the person beside you stepped away from the bar, leaving an open space that was quickly occupied by another body. “Here you go,” the bartender said, passing you an unopened bottle of water.

You thanked him, twisting the top off and taking a drink.

You were aware of the eyes on you and you glanced to the side, noticing how the man who had walked up was looking at you. His eyes looked up and down your body before looking up to meet your gaze. He gave you a smile which you did not return.

“Hey,” the man said and you turned back to look at him. You said nothing, forcing a polite smile before turning back away, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

“I saw you from across the room,” he started, leaning in to speak into your ear. You leaned away from him, the scent of his cologne overpowering your senses. “Your eyes work,” you noted. “Good for you.” He laughed heavily, the sound instantly putting you off.

You grabbed your bottle of water and excused yourself, turning and walking away from the bar. You spotted your friends in the crowd but before you could step off to weave through the crowd and join them, you felt a rough hand grab your arm. “I wasn’t done talking to you,” the man growled.

You quickly untwist the cap on your bottle of water and squeezed it, sending water into his face. “Yes you were,” you snapped and pulled from his grip. “No means no.”

Not giving him a chance to respond or react, you dumped the rest of your water on his shoes and tossed the bottle in the waste bin nearby, turning and heading into the crowd to find Ami and Hae-eun. They turned as you arrived and both their smiles fell upon seeing your annoyed expression.

You gave them a short explanation and commended you for how you handled the situation. They pulled you in to dance some more before the three of you headed back to the bar for more drinks. You were here celebrating with your friends and nothing, not even some creep, was going to ruin your fun.

As you sat back down at the sofa, Hae-eun rounded on you. “So,” she started, tapping your knee. “Tell us about this guy.” Ami’s eyes widened in excitement. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed. You shrugged your shoulders, stirring your drink with the small black straw.

“What do you want to know?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“How did you meet?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“Is he rich?”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Does he have a big-”

Hae-eun slapped Ami’s arm. “Stop with the superficial questions!” she hissed, making you snort and shake your head at their antics. ‘The same as ever,’ you noted.

“We met in the national park,” you started, looking at Hae-eun. “Yes, he’s hot,” you continued, looking at Ami. “I don’t know what he does for a living but he’s got enough money to pay for all our dates,” you added. The two stared at you, waiting for more. “And???” Ami asked.

“And what?” you asked, looking between them.

“I think what the birthday girl is asking,” Hae-eun said, throwing a glare at Ami. “Is ‘have you slept together?’” Ami nodded excitedly, looking at you expectantly. You averted your eyes from their questioning gazes, suddenly more interested in your drink.

“We haven’t,” you finally answered quietly. Ami groaned and Hae-eun shushed her. “This is why none of your dates go anywhere, Y/N,” Ami said pointedly, ignoring the glare Hae-eun gave her. You looked up at them, confusion written on your face.

“But I’ve invited him up!” you protested. “Numerous times actually.” Ami exchanged glances with Hae-eun. “And he says no?” Hae-eun asked, to which you nodded. “Every time; he declines, we say goodnight, I kiss him on the cheek, and then he waits for me to go inside before he leaves,” you explained.

“He’s gay,” Ami said suddenly, making Hae-eun choke on her drink.

“He’s not gay,” you retorted. “He even said he’s just old fashioned. He’s not into casual sex.” Ami rolled her eyes, settling back against the sofa. “Gaaaaaaay,” she shouted. Hae-eun covered her mouth with her hand, apologizing to the group sitting next to you.

You looked back down at your drink. “Maybe he’s a virgin!” Ami suddenly said and you shrugged. “And if he is?” you asked, looking up. “Is that so bad?” Ami hesitated but Hae-eun jumped in. “No,” she replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she replied.

“It’s boring!” Ami said loudly, earning another slap to the arm from Hae-eun.

“Well, I think it’s refreshing to have a guy not want to get into my pants and actually take an interest in building something first,” you retorted. “Not everything has to be about sex. Meaningful relationships are important, too,” you added. Hae-eun raised her glass. “Hear, hear,” she said.

You gently tapped your glass against hers before taking a sip while Ami shrugged.

“I still think he’s a boring, gay virgin.”

Seungmin had met Wonpil at the door, managing to get to the club at the same time Wonpil was ready to go in. They’d paid their cover charges, slipped inside and headed for the bar. Seungmin ordered a simple whiskey neat and spent most of the first few hours nursing the drink.

Wonpil was looking around, noticing a few ladies not far smiling his way but tonight wasn’t about that as Seungmin had explained as soon as they entered the establishment. “I can’t believe the first time ever of you inviting me out is about spying on your girlfriend,” he murmured, downing the rest of his second drink.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Seungmin retorted, keeping his eyes on you as you danced with your friends. You had finished one drink already that he saw and took to the floor immediately after, following your two friends. He had half a mind to slip onto the dance floor and join you.

He was vaguely listening to Wonpil talk about work when he noticed you were no longer on the dance floor. He saw your friends but there was no sign of you. Sitting up quickly, his eyes darted around until he finally found you, relief flooding him but it was short lived.

You had managed to ask the bartender for something when a man in a gray suit sidled up to the bar beside you. The way he was staring at your body made Seungmin’s stomach churn. He watched as the man spoke to you but due to all the other interference of the loud music and chatter around him, Seungmin couldn’t tell what was being said but based on your body language, you weren’t into it.

Seungmin watched as you walked away from the bar, feeling a bit better but when the man followed, grabbing you by the arm, he clenched his hand so hard, the glass in Seungmin’s hand shattered, sending whiskey all over the table.

“Whoa, dude, chill,” Wonpil hissed, starting to pick up the pieces, catching the attention of one of the servers who came over with a towel. “I’m so sorry,” Wonpil said as he helped her gather the glass in the towel. “My friend doesn’t know his own strength sometimes,” he added as he brushed Seungmin’s hand off and accepted a clean towel to clean up the alcohol.

“Thank you so much,” Wonpil said, offering another apology.

Seungmin’s eyes were still on you and the man. You’d managed to untwist the cap of your water bottle and squeeze the liquid in his face, prompting to let go before you dumped the remainder on his shoes and then left to join your friends.

Seungmin felt a surge of pride at watching the exchange but he didn’t miss the murderous look the man threw your way before he stormed off towards the bathrooms. Seungmin kept his eye on you but also kept an eye out for the man.

It was maybe about twenty or thirty minutes later that you got up from the couch after settling there with new drinks that you made your way towards the bathrooms. Seungmin had yet to see the man but when you passed the bar, a figure turned and Seungmin saw it was the man.

He felt his stomach churn again as the man got up and started after you, keeping his distance. “I’ll be back,” Seungmin announced to Wonpil and got up from his seat, turning and weaving through the crowd in the direction of the bathrooms.

You managed to make it through the crowd and into the bathroom. As you were shutting the door, a foot blocked it and you looked up to see the same man from before. He pushed the door open, forcing you back. “This is the women’s bathroom,” you remarked but he said nothing, instead, shutting the door and to your horror you heard the lock click.

“You need to get out,” you said as he advanced. Again he said nothing.

You backed away as he continued forward towards you.

“Get the fuck out. What is your problem?” you snapped, which finally got a response. “You think that was funny?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Splashing water in my face in front of everyone?” You narrowed your eyes. “If you hadn’t been such a creep and left me alone when I literally walked away from you, maybe I wouldn’t have had to splash water in your face,” you replied.

“If you didn’t want attention, you shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” he retorted. You rolled your eyes. “Seriously dude? Grow up. Get out before I call security,” you warned. He scoffed, almost laughing at you. “How’re you gonna do that when you can’t even scream?” he asked.

Your eyes widened and before you could move, he closed the distance, pushing you back against the sink, one hand going round your throat and pushing your head back against the mirror. You heard the glass crack and splinter as your head made contact, the impact dazing you for a moment.

You tried to claw at his hand. “L-let go!” you choked out. His free hand moved to the hem of your dress. “I’ll teach you a lesson, slut,” he growled. Before he could do anything else, the door was thrown open with such force you thought a bomb had gone off.

“Get your hands off her,” a familiar voice snapped. You heard the impact of a punch and the sound of a body falling into the wall before you felt a presence standing in front of you. “Y/N, holy shit, look at me,” the voice said. Gentle hands took hold of your face and through your swimming vision you saw Seungmin’s face.

“S-Seungmin?” you stammered. “Back off buddy,” the other guy said, advancing but Seungmin turned to look at him, a deep growl emitting from his chest. It rumbled so intensely that you felt it on your skin. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking fingers off, one by one,” he threatened.

Without another word, Seungmin easily lifted you off the sink, carrying you from the bathroom and through the crowd easily. He stopped at the door to inform the bouncers of the situation but you couldn’t pay attention. Soon the cool autumn air hit your skin and you opened your eyes.

You were outside.

“Where’s your phone?” Seungmin asked, carrying you to the end of the block and kneeling down, holding you up with one hand as he pulled his own phone from his pocket. “It’s here,” you murmured, gesturing at your chest where you had stuffed your phone earlier as your dress had no pockets.

“Can you get it out for me?” Seungmin asked softly as he dialed something on his phone and held his phone up to his ear. “Yeah, I got her,” Seungmin said softly into the receiver. “I’m gonna call an ambulance. Get her friends and I’ll text you the location of the hospital they take her,” he continued.

You shook your head. “No mmbulance,” you mumbled. Seungmin pulled his phone away from his ear and started typing again before holding it back up to his ear. “Y/N, you’ve hit your head,” Seungmin explained. “You’re bleeding so you might need stitches,” he continued. “And you might have a concussion.”

You looked up as he waited for whoever he was calling to answer. In the glow of the neon lights of the city he was exceptionally beautiful. You blinked slowly as you watched him. His hair was pushed back, like he’d intentionally styled it or had run his fingers through it so much it was holding.

His irises were red and you don’t know how you never noticed it before.

“You have pretty eyes,” you said, your speech slurring slightly. Seungmin looked down at you, his lips parting before he looked back up. “Hi, yes, I need an ambulance to the corner of Gangnam Boulevard and the 69th street. Address? Uh…” Seungmin looked up and around for an address to give what you assumed was a 1-1-9 dispatcher.

You tuned out the words, instead just watching him speak as the throbbing of your head started to set in.

“Thank you,” he replied, drawing you back to reality. “Ow,” you murmured as he put his phone away. “An ambulance is on the way,” he said, shifting so he was leaning against the wall of the building and keeping you on his lap. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“Ssseven,” you slurred. “Y/N oh my god! What happened!” a voice rang out. Seungmin looked up as did you. A smile spread across your face as Ami and Hae-eun hurried over with some guy you’d never seen. He looked a bit like Seungmin. You glanced at Seungmin again and then to the man and back at Seungmin.

“Are you two brothers?” you asked, pointing between them. Seungmin looked up at the man who stared back. “Uh, Y/N,” Seungmin replied. “That’s Wonpil.” You looked again and the realization dawned on you. “Dr. Kim!” you said suddenly, trying to sit up but Seungmin kept a firm grip on you.

“Whoa,” Wonpil said as he moved and knelt down. “No sudden movements, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle. “You know that. Let me see your head,” he said, gently taking your head and turning it so he could inspect the back. “It’s bleeding,” he noted.

“But it doesn’t seem too bad,” he added. “Might not even need stitches,” he continued with a smile and a wink. “But you could have a concussion,” he said, glancing at Seungmin. “Okay,” Hae-eun said, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Not to be rude, but who the fuck are you two?”

Wonpil chuckled at Hae-eun’s aggressiveness. “I’m Wonpil. I work with Y/N,” he introduced himself. “I’m a doctor at Seoul General. This is my friend Seungmin who also happens to be dating your friend Y/N,” he added, gesturing at Seungmin.

“Ami! Ami! Seungmin is the one you think is a gay virgin,” you blurted out, looking at Ami who looked positively horrified at your candor. You felt Seungmin freeze under you. “Y/N,” Hae-eun hissed. “You can’t say things like that.” You looked at her. “Oh, sorry, Hae-eun.”

Wonpil looked as if he might burst a seam, holding in his laughter.

“I am so sorry,” Ami said, looking at Seungmin. You looked up at him trying to decipher his expression but it was unreadable. “He’s just a gentleman,” you replied, still looking up at him. Seungmin looked down, meeting your gaze and you noticed the small smile he gave you.

“He’s just old fashioned and there’s nothing wrong with that,” you continued. You looked around as everyone was bathed in red and blue lights. “Is the wee woo wagon here?” you asked, making Wonpil snort as Seungmin carefully shifted as two paramedics got out of the ambulance.

“Yes,” he said, glancing down at you. “The wee woo wagon is here.” You closed your eyes, letting out a laugh. “Wee woo, wee woo,” you said, mimicking the siren as a new set of hands started to look you over and carefully placed you on a soft material.

“Wow,” you said as one person started to check your blood pressure. “The concrete sure is soft.”

Wonpil let out another laugh before covering his mouth. “Sorry,” he said softly. After starting an IV and checking your vitals and the wound on your head, you were loaded into the ambulance. “We only have space for one of you,” one of the paramedics said. “I’ll go,” Wonpil offered. “I’m a doctor and her colleague,” he added. “I’ll text you the location,” he said as he climbed in.

Seungmin nodded, keeping his eyes on you as the doors were shut and the ambulance took off, sirens blaring. “This is not how tonight was supposed to go,” Ami said tearfully, Hae-eun leaning into her looking every bit as worried as Seungmin felt.

“Where will they take her?” Ami asked, looking at Seungmin who shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Wonpil will let me know as soon as they get close,” he added.

Seungmin glanced behind him, back towards the club. His mind was full of thoughts to go back. To finish what he had in his mind but the buzzing of his phone pulled him from those dark thoughts. Seungmin glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting up with a notification from Wonpil.

Wonpil: they’re taking her to our hospital. Visiting hours will be ending soon. Get there fast

“I got a location,” Seungmin announced, Ami and Hae-eun turning to look at him. “Where” Ami asked as Seungmin hailed a cab, pocketing his phone. The driver pulled up to the curb and Seungmin turned to the two. “Seoul General,” he replied. “But we have to hurry.”

He got into the front while Ami and Hae-eun got into the back and he told the driver where to go.

He’d deal with the creep later.

The drive to the hospital didn’t take long and soon, the cab was pulling up to the emergency entrance. “Thank you so much,” Seungmin said, paying the driver as Ami and Hae-eun got out. He joined them on the sidewalk and headed into the hospital.

“Can I help you?” one of the triage nurses asked, smiling up at him. “Hi,” Seungmin said softly, leaning against the counter. “Our friend was brought in. A Dr. Kim was with her. She had a head injury and was picked up just off Gangnam Boulevard,” he explained.

“What’s your friend’s name?” she asked, typing on her computer. “Y/N,” Seungmin replied quickly.

“Last name?” she asked, looking up at him. Seungmin hesitated. He didn’t know your last name. “Y/L/N,” Hae-eun interjected, stepping forward. She rattled off the rest of your information as Seungmin fell silent. He hadn’t even known your last name.

How didn’t he know something as simple as that? It started to dawn on him just how little he truly knew about you. “She’s still being looked at,” the nurse said as she looked at her screen. “Dr. Kim ordered an MRI and CT scan. If you want to wait, you’re welcome to wait here and I’ll make sure someone comes and informs you of her condition as soon as there’s an update.”

Hae-eun thanked the nurse and returned to Ami, the two leading the way over to an empty corner, taking a seat on the small sofa while Seungmin sat in one of the armchairs. He didn’t look at either of your friends, instead trying to focus on keeping himself from going back to the club.

He wasn’t sure how much time went by but Hae-eun looked up and tapped Ami’s arm prompting Seungmin to also look up, seeing Wonpil walking over. Seungmin got up quickly as did Hae-eun. “How is she?” Ami asked, looking up from her seat.

“She’s okay,” Wonpil answered. “She didn’t need stitches,” he confirmed, looking at Seungmin who was relieved. “It was a lot of blood but the cut was very shallow and shouldn’t scar.” Seungmin let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “As for the trauma to her head,” he continued.

“Nothing on her scans indicate any serious trauma to her brain. Maybe a little bit of rattling, but there’s no bleeding in her brain which is a good sign,” he explained, addressing Ami and Hae-eun. “We will keep her overnight for observation. Nurses will wake her up every hour to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion,” he continued.

“Can we go see her?” Ami asked and Wonpil nodded, smiling. “Yes, of course,” he answered. “I’ll take you back there now,” he added. Seungmin brought up the rear as Wonpil walked your friends back into the ER. “Visiting hours end soon,” Wonpil said softly as he stopped by a door,

“But I’ll extend them just a bit for you,” he added, gesturing to the open door. Ami and Hae-eun entered, pushing the curtain aside as they entered. Wonpil stopped Seungmin before he could follow. “Tell me you didn’t do anything to him,” Wonpil said under his breath.

Seungmin looked up at this friend. “No,” he replied. “Well, I may have punched him.” Wonpil raised a brow. “Did his head stay on?” Seungmin snorted. “Unfortunately,” he replied. Wonpil held back a laugh. “I know he did something wrong but don’t go causing trouble,” Wonpil warned.

“Let the consequences of his actions catch up with him.”

Seungmin said nothing, nodding silently as Wonpil lowered his hand. “She’s a little more lucid,” he added. Seungmin thanked his friend and entered the room. Seeing you lying in the bed made his non-beating heart sink into his stomach.

He hated seeing you in such a state and it further fueled the fire in his being to go back to the club and deal with the man who had the audacity to put his hands on you. To say the things he did. To hurt you. Seungmin heard it all.

After the man had gotten up and followed you, Seungmin had gotten up, following both of you at a distance. He heard the entire exchange. The way you stood your ground, the way the man degraded you, calling you names before he acted.

It took every ounce of his strength to not tear the man apart, limb from limb when he entered that bathroom. Seeing his hands on you, how he had you pinned to the sink. The shatter mirror, the cracks spreading from the source of impact. Your head.

He should have killed the creep then and there but he was driven by a desire to make sure you were okay first. To get you to safety and assess your condition. He could always go back. And he would go back.

“Y/N, oh my god!” Ami said, rushing to your side as Hae-eun followed. Seungmin hung back as Wonpil entered the room, hands in his pockets. “She’s a very pretty woman,” Wonpil said under his breath. Seungmin nodded. “She’s more remarkable than she looks,” he replied.

Wonpil nodded, silence falling over the two.

“You can’t keep seeing her if you plan to leave,” Wonpil said finally and Seungmin nodded again. “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve thought about it over and over,” he added. “It’ll just hurt her and I can't do that to her.”

Wonpill nodded, turning his head towards Seungmin. “So don’t keep doing this. Don’t follow her to clubs,” he continued. Seungmin looked at him. “This was a one time thing,” he whispered. “I’ve never followed her before,” he clarified.

Wonpil nodded. “Good,” he said softly. Seungmin watched as Wonpil stepped forward. “I’m sorry ladies,” he said, addressing Ami and Hae-eun. “But Y/N needs rest. She’ll be released tomorrow so long as she’s cleared,” he added. Ami and Hae-eun nodded and looked back at you.

“Sorry I ruined your birthday,” you said to Ami who laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “It’s okay,” she replied. “You didn’t ruin it,” she added. “We’ll come see you tomorrow,” Hae-eun said, looking at Wonpil who nodded with a smile. “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards the door.

“Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Ami said as she and Hae-eun said goodbye and started to move towards the door, passing in front of Seungmin. When they were past him, Seungmin caught your eye and offered a smile before turning to head for the door.

“Actually, could I have a moment alone with Seungmin?” you asked Wonpil who glanced at his friend before looking back at you. “Of course,” he said. “Just a couple minutes,” he added before leaving the room. Seungmin turned back to face you.

“Could you come here please?” you asked, trying to push yourself up. Seungmin hurried to your side, grabbing the bed controls. “Use this,” he said, placing it in your hand. “Thanks,” you said, pressing the button to raise the head of the bed.

Seungmin sat carefully on the edge of your bed, keeping his eyes on your face. “I--” your voice cracked as you tried to say something. You tried again. Seungmin could see you fighting the urge to cry. “I wanted to thank you for saving me,” you said softly. Seungmin glanced down at your hand, wondering whether he should take hold of it or not.

He lost the fight with his inner self and took your hand gently and carefully. His ears picked up how the heart monitor beeped a little faster. It wasn’t much but it was enough for you to avoid his glaze for a moment. “Damn machine,” you said softly.

“Giving me away.”

Seungmin fought the urge to smile. He’d already known how he affected you. He could hear your heart without the monitor. He could hear the way the tempo danced whenever he got closer or whenever you held his hand or leaned into him.

He was sure his would be doing the same if it weren’t dead.

“Damn machine,” he repeated, making you chuckle.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I thanked you for saving me,” you started. “But how did you know where I was?” you asked. Seungmin smiled, looking down at your hand in his. “When you said you were going out with some friends, I decided to do the same and asked Wonpil to come out with me. I didn’t expect us to end up at the same club,” he admitted.

You looked up at him as he spoke. “But I saw you while I was talking to Wonpil and I saw that guy,” he continued, his expression shifting to anger as he recalled the way the man had grabbed your arm. “And I saw the way you defended yourself. But then you went to the bathroom alone and then I saw him follow and I just felt like something was wrong,” he added.

“So I followed you to the bathrooms. I got close enough, and then I heard you pleading,” Seungmin said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “So you broke down the door?” you asked, watching his face. He nodded. “How?” you asked, and Seungmin looked down at you. “How what?”

“How did you break down the door?” you asked, looking genuinely curious. “I kicked it in,” he admitted. You stared at him for a few minutes before speaking. “But it’s a metal door,” you replied. Seungmin shrugged. “I probably had adrenaline pumping,” he replied. “You can do incredible things on adrenaline,” he added.

You stared at him, eyes searching his face. For the first time since meeting you, Seungmin couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or not. “That’s one hell of an adrenaline rush,” you finally said and Seungmin laughed, nodding. “Yeah,” he said softly. He placed your hand on your stomach.

“I should probably go so you can rest,” he said, standing up. The way you looked up at him had him feeling like he couldn’t just leave without a proper goodbye. Against his better judgment, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he met your gaze and before he could stop you, you grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him down and Seungmin felt on fire as your lips met for the first time. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone. It had been ages but yet he didn’t seem to be any worse for it.

Your lips parted and Seungmin could hear via both the heart monitor and the pounding of your heart as his tongue slipped into your mouth. It was embarrassing how easily a kiss riled him up but he could smell how it affected you as well. He pulled back even though the man inside him wanted more. He rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry our first kiss was while you were lying in a hospital bed,” he said, a hint of amusement to his voice. You giggled, looking up at him as he pulled back. “Thank you again,” you said softly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. Seungmin’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over and pulling your bottom lip free before he leaned in, kissing you again.

“Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll come see you tomorrow,” he added as he stood up. “You promise?” you called as he walked towards the door, he turned back and smiled, nodding. “But after you get out of the hospital,” he added as the door opened and Wonpil appeared.

“Goodnight Y/N,” Seungmin said before following Wonpil out of the room as he heard you call out.

“See you around!”

Seungmin chuckled to himself as Wonpil shut the door and rounded on him. “I told you to leave her alone,” he hissed as the pair headed for the exit. “The entire nurses station could hear her heart monitor!” Seungmin laughed a little louder as they reached the door.

“I’m serious,” Wonpil added, trying not to laugh as Seungmin came to a halt by the doors leading out to the lobby. “If you plan on leaving, don’t get involved with her.” Seungmin nodded, forcing his laughter down. “And go home,” he added.

It was clear what Wonpil was insinuating but there was no way Seungmin was going to let the creep get away with what he’d just done. Especially not to you. “The world won’t miss him,” he replied under his breath. “I’m simply taking out the trash.”

Wonpil glanced up at him before looking around. “Fine,” he said definitively. “Just make it look like an accident and be careful.” Seungmin didn’t need telling twice. He nodded once and said goodbye to his friend before exiting to the lobby. If he was going to do this, he needed to get back to the club.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the club and by the time he got there, the club had closed with the patrons spilling out into the street, calling for taxis and other transportation home. Seungmin hid amongst the crowd, keeping his eye out until he finally spotted him.

‘Found you.’

It had not been a good night for Darren. From having water splashed in his face and poured on his shoes, being assaulted in the bathroom and not managing to find anyone else to come home with him, he left the club dejectedly and started the walk home. He was fortunate that his apartment building was a few blocks away.

As he started to walk away from the crowd, he glanced around to get an idea of his surroundings and who might be walking the same direction as him. He continued on, one foot in front of the other as he walked further from the busy boulevard and down side streets and alleys.

He stopped in his tracks as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and turned, looking behind him, scanning the area. He saw nothing, indicating he was alone, but he didn’t feel alone. He shook the feeling off and turned back around to continue on.

He’d only gone a few more steps when he felt it again. The feeling of being watched. He turned back around, hands balling into fists as he stood his ground against his shadowy follower. He squinted, looking into the dark crevices. Inspecting the best he could from a distance.

Nothing moved. There were no sounds. No crickets, no rats or other critters squeaking or chittering. There was no sound of fans or air conditioning units. Nothing. It was as if someone hit mute on everything. There was no sound of vehicles passing on the larger streets nearby.

He shook the creeping feeling across his skin and continued on his way again. He wasn’t going to let some paranoid feeling get the best of him. Picking up the pace, he continued walking, hoping to get out of this neighborhood soon and into the one where he lived. Where he felt safe.

He heard the sound of footsteps and the scraping of metal against concrete, like a can had been kicked. He spun around but was met once again with an empty alleyway. The various steps and stoops up to the front doors were empty. Not even a cat waiting to be let in for the night.

There was nothing. Just him and the alley.

Darren quickened his pace yet again, practically jogging now as he tried to navigate his way out of this alley and back onto a major street. He could hear footsteps against pavement and broke into a run, noticing the end of the alley drawing closer and soon he was back on the main street with other people. He stopped, glancing back into the alley where he swore he saw a pair of glowing red eyes.

This spooked him enough to light a fire under him and he hurried back to his building, ignoring the looks from strangers around him as he pushed past them without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or apology. He reached his building, a high rise with a doorman who greeted him, opening the door for him.

Once in the elevator, Darren felt much better. Safer even. The ride up to the nineteenth floor didn’t take long and soon he was putting in the code for his apartment, letting himself in and shutting the door quickly behind him, locking it and taking a few deep breaths.

He’d managed to make it home and he felt infinitely better in his familiar surroundings. He started to settle, removing his shoes before stepping up onto the floor and going about his usual routine. He moved into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and drinking it slowly as he thought about the events of the night.

Namely the man who came into the bathroom to rescue the woman who had splashed water in his face.

He’d never seen anything like it. The way the door was kicked in, almost like it had been blown in by a battering ram and then the way he stormed in. He moved so fast, Darren had no chance to react before he felt the man’s fist collide with his jaw. “Bastard,” he said softly as he reached up to massage the sore spot on his face. He knew it was going to bruise.

Darren finished his water before setting the empty glass in the sink and heading to the back of his apartment, towards his bedroom and bathroom. Inside the bathroom, he turned on the water, making it as hot as he could stand. Something to relax his tense muscles before bed.

He stripped, dropping his clothes in the hamper and stepped under the stream, closing the glass door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, steaming up the glass surfaces and obscuring his vision of the rest of the bathroom.

A sudden gust of cold wind hit him and he froze, looking away from the shower and quickly wiped the glass, squinting out into the bathroom and trying to see beyond the open bathroom door to his bedroom. He saw nothing and quickly opened the door, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

He stepped out of the shower, and started into the bedroom, the cool breeze still hitting him. Once inside his room he noticed that one of his windows was open. ‘What the hell?’

He hurried over and pulled it shut, latching the lock and looking outside to the city below. ‘How in the hell could that have opened?’ he wondered. He took a good look around the room but found nothing amiss. Nothing had been moved, nor did he see any sign of intruders.

Deciding he needed to just sleep it off, he headed back into the bathroom to finish his shower so he could go to bed. He hung the towel back up, stepping back into the glass case and shutting the door. He heard a scraping behind him against the glass and spun around.

There was nothing there. He turned to the door but again saw nothing. He turned the water off and shook his head. ‘You’re seeing things,’ he told himself and chuckled. “Man, you really need sleep.”

He turned to open the door and froze. Out of his periphery on the left side he could see a dark shadow. A figure. He turned to look at it, terror filling his veins as the figure didn’t disappear when he looked at it. Standing firmly beyond the glass was a dark shape, it was vaguely human.

“W-who are you?” he stammered, frozen in place. Darren could hear a faint buzzing and the light overhead started to flicker. He looked up at it quickly and then back but the shadow was gone. He turned back to the door and then everything happened in slow motion.

He was confronted with a nightmarish creature. Black and red eyes, a grotesque pale face with a bat-like nose. The teeth. Each one was sharp and pointed and the creature's mouth was full of them.

It snarled and roared at him, causing him to jump and take a step back. Darren slipped, falling back in slow motion. His head collided with the tiled wall behind him, a sharp and intense pain spreading from the point of impact as he slid down the wall and onto the floor of the shower.

The creature, which had been hanging upside down, dropped to the floor, features shifting as it moved closer and knelt down, clicking its tongue as it did so.

“Tsk, tsk,” it said in the voice of a man. Darren looked up, his vision swimming in and out of focus. “You know, you really should have an anti slip mat in these things,” the creature turned man said and as his face came into focus, Darren’s eyes widened. “Y-you!” he stammered.

The man from before looked down at him coldly. His irises red as he glared. “I had told you I’d rip your fingers off one by one,” he said as he looked down at him. “But watching you hit your head and slowly succumb to the trauma is so much more satisfying,” he said, his voice full of malice.

“You can’t do this-” Darren choked out, fear taking over him as the man reached a hand down slowly. “Yes,” he replied. “I can and I will.” Darren felt the man’s fingers curl into his hair, picking his head up off the tiled floor before he gave him a cruel smile.

“I’ll teach you a lesson,” he hissed before slamming Darren’s head against the floor. As the man stood up, everything started to go black. “Wash this up,” the man said, turning on the shower, the water raining down on Darren’s body as his life ebbed away from him.

“Be glad I’ve given you this death. You deserve much worse.”

As his vision went black, the last thing Darren saw was the back of the man exiting his bathroom.

“In other news, authorities have said in a strange twist of events, a suspect in a serial rapist they’ve been trying to track down has died in an accident in his apartment. The suspect slipped and fell in the shower, hitting his head and dying from the trauma. Now let’s look at the weather.”

Seungmin looked up as Wonpil turned the television off. “I told you not to get involved,” Wonpil hissed as Seungmin sat perfectly still, staring back at him. “He slipped and fell,” Seungmin stated. “I didn’t touch him.” Wonpil narrowed his eyes.

“I guess his karma caught up to him,” Seungmin added, looking away from Wonpil.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It looks like an accident,” Seungmin added. Wonpil shook his head. “You don’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner,” he stated. “We’re not supposed to get involved in these things. Let them sort it out.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes at Wonpil. “Let them sort it out? So you’re saying I should have let him force himself on Y/N?” Seungmin asked incredulously. “No!” Wonpil, sounding exasperated. “I didn’t say that! I just meant that this is what happens when you get involved.”

Seungmin scoffed, getting up from the sofa. “So, it’s my fault?”

Wonpil gestured to the tv. “A man is dead!” he replied. “A man who had assaulted many. A serial rapist,” Seungmin argued. “Or did you just ignore that part?” Wonpil glared at him, huffing angrily as his pager started to beep. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

“I gotta go. Hospital needs me,” he said, getting up and grabbing his wallet. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” Wonpil said as he headed for the door. “Oh, and one more thing,” he continued, turning back to look at Seungmin. “Stay away from Y/N.”

Seungmin glared at the door as Wonpil disappeared. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished the device out, seeing he had a text from you.

Y/N: you said you’d come and see me after i got released but you haven’t come ):

Seungmin chuckled, quickly typing out a response. He’d finally gotten the hang of having a phone and had no problems sending texts anymore though he still occasionally signed them off before erasing them, remembering they weren’t emails.

Seungmin: sorry. It’s been kind of hectic on this end. I do want to see you (:

Your response was swift.

Y/N: how about dinner tonight? My place? I’ll cook for you (:

Seungmin stared at the screen. Dinner? At your place? Alone? He hesitated. Could he resist the urge? The urge to want to be with you? To want you in every possible way he could have you? He knew if he gave in to that urge, there was no way he could leave you. He’d be tied to you in some way.

Against his better judgment, Seungmin responded.

Seungmin: sounds good. Seven o’clock?

Y/N: seven o’clock sounds perfect. I’ll see you soon (;

Seungmin chuckled at the winking face you’d sent as he locked and placed his phone in his pocket, checking the time on his watch. He had about an hour to get ready and head to your place. He wrote a note for Wonpil, letting him know that he wasn’t going to listen and that he was going to give in for once before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

The walk back to his place took half an hour as he had to weave between busy pedestrians without drawing attention. He raced to his apartment as soon as the elevator doors opened and once he was inside, he changed at top speed, rushing through the apartment.

Once he was ready, he headed back down and had about twenty minutes to get to your place before seven. He stopped on the way, grabbing a bottle of wine and a small bouquet of flowers. Nothing overly fancy. More of an “I’m thinking of you and hope you’re well,” kind of thing.

He arrived at your building with five minutes to spare, taking the buttonless elevator up to your floor. He watched as the counter stopped on the twentieth floor and he got off, heading to the unit number you’d instructed. Standing outside 2091, he felt like an idiot but he knocked regardless.

It took only a few moments for you to answer the door, opening it with a smile on your face as you greeted him. “Hey, come on in,” you said softly and stood aside to let him in. Seungmin stepped over the threshold. The notion that a vampire could not enter unless invited was garbage but he liked that you still invited him in.

“These are for you,” he said, handing the flowers over. You smiled, taking them with a thank you. “They’re lovely,” you added as you headed into the kitchen. Seungmin slipped off his shoes and followed you, glancing around your studio apartment.

It was every bit uniquely you as you had described it to him. You had taken a singular space and turned it into three. The bedroom area was closed off by a hanging curtain and cubby shelves. The plants and string lights made it feel cozy and magical. Almost like a forest.

You’d turned the space near the door leading to the balcony into your living room, sectioning the space off but it didn’t feel cut off. Everything flowed nicely. The last space was against the wall on the other side of the living space. A small dining table and three chairs stood, all bar height.

Seungmin turned to you as you placed the flowers in an empty vase, setting the vase aside and turning to him. “Wine as well?” you asked, nodding at the bottle in his hand. He handed it over and you turned to your fridge, placing the bottle inside.

“I didn’t want to show up empty handed,” he answered. You turned back to him before moving to the kitchen counter. “So,” Seungmin said, moving to stand beside you. “What are you making?” he asked. “A stirfry,” you answered simply, cutting the vegetables.

“For me anyway,” you replied. Seungmin looked up at you, meeting your gaze.

“You don’t eat,” you said plainly. Seungmin was certain if his heart was alive, it would be pounding. Were you onto him? He broke into a smile, laughing. “What are you talking about?” he asked, chuckling. You moved to open the cabinet.

You pulled out a wine glass. “Do you want one?” you asked, looking at him. “For the sake of appearances?” Seungmin’s smile fell. “What are you talking about?” he asked as you moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of your own wine and pouring yourself a glass.

“Are you a vampire?”

Your question caught him completely off guard, knocking the wind out of him as he processed what you’d just asked. Had he imagined the whole thing? He didn’t even notice you pour another glass of wine and push it towards him.

You had asked him so nonchalantly. Like you were asking about his job or the weather.

‘Are you a vampire?’ Your voice echoed in his head. How was he supposed to answer? Did he lie and laugh it off? Did you already know for certain? Would denying it just make you mad and push you further away? That was the last thing he wanted.

“Well,” you said suddenly, pulling Seungmin from his thoughts. “Are you?”

He looked from your questioning gaze to the glass of wine sitting in front of him. He grabbed it, swirling the red liquid as he carefully thought about his answer. He wondered when you pieced it all together. Was it when he’d saved you from the creep in the club bathroom? Or perhaps it was before then. Had you known since the moment you met him when he was contemplating throwing himself from the cliff?

But if so, how could you have known? In all his years, he’s never met another person who deduced his true nature who wasn’t already a supernatural being themselves. Maybe he had you all wrong? Was there more to you than met even his eyes?

“Am I what?” he finally spoke, looking up from the crimson wine, through his lashes to meet your gaze.

“A vampire?”

Seungmin held his breath, staring you down. Normally when he made eye contact like this, everyone would shy away from his intense gaze, everyone except you it would seem. You held his gaze, staring back almost challengingly. “What makes you think that?” Seungmin asked softly, still staring back at you.

“Just a hunch, I guess,” you replied, looking away from his eyes momentarily to take a sip of your wine before glancing back up again. “I thought about it when I first saw you,” you explained. “You looked so… tormented and lonely.” Seungmin continued to hold his breath as you spoke.

“Not to mention those stories you told me when we first met on the cliff that day. So much history. So many tales,” you continued, a small smile appearing on your lips. “And then when you seemingly knew where I was at the club when that… man--”

“Monster,” Seungmin interrupted, catching you off guard as you looked back up in shock.

“That wasn’t a man,” Seungmin continued. “That was a monster.”

You tilted your head curiously. “If he’s a monster, what does that make you?” you asked softly, setting your glass on the granite counter. Seungmin let out a dark chuckle. “Never said I wasn’t one, too, sweetheart,” he countered, taking another sip of his wine, watching the line settle as he set the glass on the counter as well, looking up to meet your gaze.

He tried to discern the emotion behind the look you were giving him now. He thought perhaps by now your flight or fight response would have kicked in but alas, you were looking at him more out of concern than fear. Were you concerned about what he could do to you? Or were you concerned for him?

“You know,” Seungmin said, chuckling as the notion crossed his mind. “I’m not a mind-reader,” he added. “I’d like to know what’s going on in your head.” He waited while you gathered your thoughts, waiting for you to say something. To say anything.

“Did you kill him?” you asked suddenly, catching him completely off guard. “What?” he whispered.

You tilted your head to the side, still maintaining eye contact with him, like you weren’t staring a predator in the face. “Did you kill him? The man from the club, the one you said is a monster.”

Seungmin hesitated. It seemed you’d already made up your mind about the nature of his being yet neither of you commented on it. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” he answered finally, lifting his glass but hesitating when you spoke, the glass barely touching his lips.

“Spare me the evasive act. I’m not an idiot, Seungmin. I know danger when I see it. Everything in my body is telling me you’re dangerous just like that man. The only difference is that the danger I felt with him is learned. The danger I feel from you is primal. It’s ingrained in my brain. Hardwired because you aren’t human. You’re something more.”

Seungmin looked past the glass at your slightly distorted figure before lowering the glass to peer at you over the rim. “Then why did you invite me here?” he asked before downing the rest of his wine, setting the glass aside and getting to his feet.

You watched as he slowly stalked around the kitchen island towards you. His eyes locked on you as he moved, you felt suddenly like prey caught in the gaze of a predator and for the first time since you met him, you felt like you were truly in danger.

You were certain Seungmin was a vampire. You knew he was more than a simple man. The way he carried himself and sometimes spoke was like he was pulled straight from one of Jane Austen’s novels. He was from a different time period and although his face didn’t show his age, his eyes certainly did.

He may look like a man in his mid twenties but his eyes were that of a being that had seen hundreds of years. You watched as he approached, closing in on you, backing you up against the wall behind you. Your back met the hard surface as he rested his hands against the wall on either side of your head, eyes inspecting your face as he leaned closer.

Your breathing had sped up, heart racing as he approached, eyes fixated on you as if he was about to pounce and deliver a killing blow. Your eyes flickered between his, noticing up close how red they were. Not the sclera. His irises were a deep blood red. From a distance, you’d assumed they were brown but now you saw the true color and your mind was made up for you.

Seungmin was a vampire, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind.

Seungmin’s eyes scanned your face, from your eyes, down to your lips before they dipped down to your neck and then back up to meet your gaze.

“I can hear your heart racing,” he said softly, his voice barely audible of the ticking of the clock hanging above your head. He tilted his head to the side, a smirk forming on his lips. “I’m fine,” you whispered. Seungmin chuckled. “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he replied.

One of his hands moved, fingers brushing against the skin of your neck, just over your pulse point. An involuntary shiver ran up your spine. “Why are you shaking?” he asked, leaning closer, his lips mere inches from yours as his eyes searched yours. “You’re not scared of me are you, little rabbit?”

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered, knowing your soft voice was giving you away. Seungmin’s hand slipped behind your head, fingers pulling at the hair at the base of your neck. “Don’t lie to me, pet,” he retorted, eyes scanning your face, dipping down to your throat and back up. Had you not been watching, you would have missed the way he licked his lips and swallowed.

“Does it bother you?” you asked softly, drawing his attention. “Hmm?” he hummed in response. “Being so close to a source,” you continued. Seungmin narrowed his eyes, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “A source? Of what?” he asked, knowing what you were about to say.

“Blood.”

Seungmin froze, staring at you. Before he had a chance to answer, to defend his secret, you spoke again.

“I told you I’m not an idiot, Seungmin,” you said.

He pulled back slowly to look in your eyes. You could see the color had shifted to red. Just like that night outside the club. That was when you truly knew what you were up against. What kind of danger you were in every time you saw him. Every time you leaned in to kiss him goodnight.

At any point, he could have snapped and killed you, drained you of your blood but you wanted to know why he didn’t. Why didn’t he eat people? ‘What a weird question to contemplate,’ you told yourself.

“But I do have a question,” you whispered. Seungmin hesitated, waiting for your query.

You licked your lips before speaking. “Why don’t you feed from humans?” you asked before realizing you had made an assumption. Perhaps he did feed from humans. “Sorry.” you said quickly. “I’m making assumptions.” Seungmin smiled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright,” he replied.

“Your assumption is right. I don’t feed from humans. I don’t even feed from animals. Not directly anyway,” he replied. “What do you feed from?” you asked softly. “Blood bags,” Seungmin admitted. “It’s a more lowkey way to feed,” he explained.

“Where do you get them?” you asked softly, watching as he tilted his head to the side, studying you. He was hoping you’d do the math and figure it out and as you wracked your brain it hit you.

His friend. “Wonpil,” you whispered. You met his gaze. “Is he a vampire, too?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated but eventually nodded his head. “Yes,” he replied. “He gets the blood bags for me. It really pays off, having a doctor friend,” he added. You shook your head in disbelief.

“How does he do what he does?” you asked. “With all the blood,” you continued. Seungmin smiled and nodded. “Sounds very Twilight of him,” he noted. “Doesn’t it?” Chuckling again when you nodded, Seungmin continued to explain.

“He used to be a doctor. In fact, he was a highly sought after royal doctor back in the day,” he continued. “And then in the army, he was a combat medic. That’s how we met,” he added. “On the battlefield. My squad took heavy fire and he was sent in to assess and do what he could but when he saw I was completely unharmed, he knew immediately what I was and I knew what he was.”

You stared back at him as he explained more of his background. “We’ve been friends ever since. He’s the only person I’ve ever leaned on or trusted,” he continued, before glancing down at you. “Until now at least,” he added, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“You trust me?” you asked softly. Seungmin nodded. “I do,” he replied, eyes dipping to your lips and back up. “Do you trust me?” he asked. You hesitated only for a moment before nodding. “Yes,” you answered, bringing your hand up to place over his. “I trust you.”

Seungmin closed the distance, kissing you passionately as he pinned you against the wall. You moaned into his mouth as he grinded against you, eagerly swallowing the sounds you made under his touch. “Tell me you want this,” he said softly, resting his forehead against yours as you panted heavily.

“Tell me you want me,” he continued. You moved one of your hands up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. “I want this,” you replied. “I want you.” Seungmin let out a small growl, grabbing your hips and pulling you away from the wall, guiding you over to the kitchen island.

You let out a squeak of surprise as Seungmin easily lifted you, turning and depositing you on the counter. “If I was more patient, I’d make you run,” he murmured, leaning in, his lips inches from yours, nose gently bumping yours. “If I was more patient, I’d take my time with you,” he continued, his hands moving down to the hem of your sweater, fingers gently toying with the material.

“Then why don’t you?” you asked, eyes searching his. He smiled in response, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his fangs. “Because I’m not a patient man,” he answered before pulling back and lifting your sweater, tossing it aside. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue slipping past your parted lips.

You let out a whine as you felt one of his fangs graze against your bottom lip. “Are you going to feed from me?” you whispered when he broke the kiss. Seungmin chuckled, hands moving down to your jeans, undoing the button and zipper. “No,” he replied. “Not unless you want me to,” he added, tugging your pants down past your hips. You lifted your butt to make it easier for him.

Your jeans joined your sweater on the floor, leaving you in your underwear. The granite countertop was cold against your skin as Seungmin peppered kisses along your collar. “Will that kill me?” you whispered, heart racing as he kissed down your sternum, pushing you onto your back as he continued kissing down your stomach. “No,” he said with another amused tone.

“I’m not going to puncture your jugular,” he added. “I don’t feed from that high,” he added. “Not unless I’m trying to kill you.” You swallowed thickly as he continued to kiss down, his lips meeting the hem of your panties. “May I?” he asked softly, raising his head to make eye contact. You nodded wordlessly, watching as he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, discarding them along with the rest of your clothes.

“Seungmin,” you breathed out as his lips trailed down the inside of your thigh. “Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his head slightly. “I want you to feed from me,” you murmured, cheeks burning as his gaze bore into yours. “Are you sure, doe?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded silently, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

You watched as he lowered his head, nipping at the skin of your inner thigh. You let out a gasp at the sensation. “Wait,” you said suddenly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “This isn’t gonna turn me into a vampire, right?” you asked. Seungmin chuckled again.

“No,” he answered. “You would have to feed from me to become like me,” he added. Your eyes widened at the thought. “Feed from you?” you asked, to which he nodded. Your head fell back as you felt his tongue against the skin of your thigh. “Just don’t kill me, please,” you mumbled.

Seungmin chuckled to himself before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

You let out a cry of pain, followed by a gasp as you felt his thumb brush over your clit. “Oh shit,” you groaned. You could feel blood leaving your body through the wound to your thigh. It was almost like having someone sucking a hickey but more intense.

“I knew you would taste so sweet,” you heard him groan. “Seungmin,” you started, lifting your head but letting out a moan, head falling back as you felt his tongue against your clit, his fingers toying with your slit. “Oh fucking hell,” you gasped as he teased the nub with the tip of his tongue.

“M’gonna cum,” you moaned, thighs shaking as your high approached only for Seungmin to pull away. “Not yet,” he purred, his breath hot against your sex. “You’ll cum when I let you,” he added. As your orgasm slipped away, you felt his fingers ease into your entrance slowly, two at a time.

He set a steady pace, watching the way his fingers disappeared into your tight heat. “I can’t wait to fill you up,” he said softly, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Please,” you moaned as he sped up slowly. Your orgasm was just out of your reach.

It was beginning to get frustrating. After weeks of nothing from him. Weeks of wanting this man, you finally had him and you were even more frustrated that your orgasm was evading you. Each time he toyed with your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but not enough for you to topple over it.

“Seungmin,” you begged. “Please fuck me.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he said as he pulled away, licking his fingers clean. You pushed yourself up as Seungmin shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. You pulled him into a kiss, his hands fumbling with his buckled and zipper, undoing his pants and pushing them down.

You moaned as he pushed into you easily, your walls stretching to accommodate the intrusion. “Shh,” he hushed you, smoothing your hair and cupping your cheek. “Look at me,” he said softly. You looked up at him, meeting his blood red gaze.

“That’s it,” he cooed, pulling back and giving you a shallow thrust. “F-fffuuuck,” you groaned as he set a steady pace, cock dragging against your walls with each push and pull. “Seungmin,” you whined as he held you up. “Feel’s so good,” you groaned, moving your hips to meet his.

“Shit,” you heard him hiss. “That,” he instructed. “Keep doing that, sweetheart,” he groaned, thrusting harder, the sound of skin hitting skin being the only thing to fill the space. “I need to cum,” you whined, unshed tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“And you will,” Seungmin replied. “But only when I say so.”

“How’s the bite?” you asked suddenly. Seungmin glanced down at your thigh. The bleed had stopped already. “It’s fine,” he huffed. “Don’t worry about it,” he added. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head towards your neck.

“Y/N,” he warned. “Please,” you breathed. “Please Seungmin.”

Something Seungmin prided himself on was his unfaltering and unwavering quality. His ability to put his foot down and say no but he was finding it harder and harder to say no to you. He sighed, groaning as your walls gripped him tightly.

“Fine,” he said softly, lips brushing against your skin. “But just a small one,” he replied before sinking his teeth into the base of your neck. You let out a moan, walls clenching around him, fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh shit,” you cursed. “Fuck me,” you groaned.

Seungmin pulled back, lips tainted red from your blood. “I already am,” he joked before rolling his tongue over the bite wound to your neck. The taste of you on his tongue he pulled back, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

You could taste iron on his tongue. Blood. Your blood.

You moaned into the kiss, nails scratching against his skin.

Seungmin pulled away, returning to your neck, licking at the wound. “I’m not gonna bleed out, right?” you asked weakly, your orgasm slipping away for the nth time as Seungmin slowed his movements. “You’ll be fine,” Seungmin murmured, still occasionally licking at the bite on your neck. “It’s almost done bleeding. It’s coagulating,” he added.

“F-fuck,” you hissed. Seungmin chuckled, giving you a sharp thrust. “And you p-promise I’m not gonna -hng- bleed out?” you asked, a moan slipping out between your words. Seungmin nodded, his free hand cupping the back of your neck. “I promise,” he replied. “You’ve already stopped bleeding,” he added.

You opened your mouth to respond, only moaning as his hips set a steady, even pace. M’so close,” you whined, head falling forward, your forehead resting against his. “Already?” he teased. “Before I’ve even properly fucked you?” You whined in response, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“My bad,” he joked. “I might have gone a little overboard earlier,” he added, placing his hand against the counter, his hips hitting yours with each thrust. Your vision blurred, tears filling as the tension in your body built up again. One hand tangled in his hair, the other reaching around to hold onto his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck. “M’ gonna-” your words failed as your orgasm crashed over you unexpectedly.

“That really was quick,” Seungmin chuckled as he helped you ride it out. As you fell limp in his hold, he pulled out of you, carefully guiding you down off the counter before turning you to face it, pushing you over as he guided himself back inside your tight heat.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said, taking both hips in his hands and setting a punishing pace, making you cry out, the tears in your eyes finally falling. “Are you crying?” he asked breathlessly. “Does it feel that good?” he mused.

You were unable to speak and respond to his question, instead answering only in jumbled words, moans, and chants of his name. Seungmin’s hand moved up to your shoulder, pulling your back up as he leaned over, lips next to your ear. “Crying only makes me want to ruin you more,” he said, his tone dark. “It’s not gonna make me go easy on you.”

You cried out as his thrusts increased, hips hitting your ass repeatedly with the same slapping sound.

The sounds of your cries only spurred him on, your sniffles and sobs fueling his desire to wreck you. “Almost,” he groaned, his own orgasm approaching. “Fuck, m’close,” he announced. “Where you want it?” he asked. You lifted your head weakly. “I-inside me,” you moaned.

Seungmin groaned, hips stuttering. “You sure?” he asked and you nodded. “Give it to me,” you whimpered. “Cum inside me, Seungmin, please.”

That was all he needed to hear, groaning into your ear as he released inside you, painting your insides with cum. “Oh shit,” he cursed, hips slowing as he fucked his release further into you. “Oh god,” you groaned, feeling his cum fill your cunt as he pulled your back against his chest.

“That’s it, little rabbit,” he grunted. “Take all of it.”

His hips stilled and you whined, falling limp in his hold. Seungmin leaned over, one arm around your chest, the other holding the both of you up over the countertop. “Shit,” you heard him hiss. “You’re going to need a shower,” he said softly.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you. “Or we both might need one,” he corrected. You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Are you staying?” you asked, looking at him with those expectant eyes. How could he ever think to leave.

He’d spent most of his immortal life jumping from identity to identity. He’d grown bored and weary of that life and now he had the chance to do something new and exciting. He smiled at you and nodded. Sure, you assumed he meant he was staying the night but deep down, he was agreeing to stay for the foreseeable future.

And who knows. Maybe, just maybe he’ll stay for eternity if that means he gets an eternity with you.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #seungmin scenarios #seungmin imagines #seungmin fanfic #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2023

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sidekick-hero · 5 months

Text

tangled with what I never said

(steddie | mature | 994 words | @steddiemas angsty sentence starters and @steddieholidaydrabbles modern au prompts)

NOW WITH A PART 2

"I don't know what you want from me!" Eddie yells, his face contorted in misery.

He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want to feel the way he does, confused and angry and miserable. He doesn't want to lose Steve.

"I want to know what's wrong. You can talk to me, man. You know you can, right?" Steve's voice wavers at the question, his hazel eyes imploring Eddie to tell him what's wrong so Steve can fix it.

The problem is, Steve can't fix it. Not this one.

Eddie lets out a deep sigh, feeling all his anger drain out of his body, leaving behind a weariness that feels too big for his body. He's just so tired of feeling like this.

"I don't know what to say, Steve. I told you, I'm just tired, okay? Go back to Sam and enjoy your date. I'm fine."

Steve doesn't move, just looks at him with that hurt look on his face and Eddie doesn't know why, but it reignites that seemingly ever-present flame of hot anger in his stomach.

"Stop. Stop looking at me like that." He snaps and sees Steve jump at the sharpness in his voice. They've been roommates for two years now, and friends for almost as long, and Eddie can count the times they've fought on one hand.

"Like what?"

"Like I killed your puppy or something. Like I hurt you when you're the one -" Eddie snaps his mouth shut, but it's too late. Fuck his traitorous mouth that keeps running off and ruining his life.

Steve takes a step forward, then another, inching closer like he's approaching a wild, cornered animal. "When I'm the one hurting you? Is that what's going on, Eddie, have I hurt you?" His hand reaches for Eddie and Eddie wants to take it so badly. That's the problem, isn't it? He wants and wants and wants.

He wants to be happy for Steve, he really does. He wants to smile and congratulate him for finally finding someone he likes enough to take out on dates and kiss good night and hold his hand with that happy smile on his face. Someone to hold him and fuck him so good that Eddie can hear it through the wall separating their bedrooms.

But most of all, Eddie wants to be that person for Steve.

"Eddie?" Steve's voice jolts him from his thoughts as a warm hand settles on his upper arm. "What did I do? Please, tell me."

"You didn't do anything..."

"Bullshit!" Steve shouts, and Eddie swears he can hear that one word echoing through his mind. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

"Steve," he tries, but is cut off by Steve's shaking voice, a stark contrast to the tight grip on his arm.

"No, Eddie. You can't... I can't do this anymore, watching you pull away. It's like. I don't know. Like you're disappearing before my eyes. And I... fuck." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was after the heavy make-out session Eddie had come home to earlier than planned. His eyes find Eddie's and Eddie's stomach drops when he sees the tears glistening in them. "I miss you, okay? I fucking miss you."

"I'm right here," Eddie whispers. There are so many things he wants to say, needs to say, but they're all stuck in his throat, slowly choking him.

Steve moves even closer so that their faces are only inches apart, his eyes never leaving Eddie's, and whispers back, "No, you're not. Not really. You're like a ghost story." Eddie can feel Steve's breath against his own lips and thinks Steve must be trembling before he realizes that no, that's him.

"Steve, please." He doesn't know what he's pleading for. Maybe to take back those stupid words he said to Steve fourteen months ago.

It was a mistake.

We were drunk and high and I didn't mean it.

We can still be friends.

Maybe he's begging Steve to take the thoughts out of his head so he doesn't have to say them.

I'm sorry.

I was scared because I didn't want to lose you.

I'm so in love with you that some days it feels like it's killing me and I want to let it.

Steve's big, warm hand cradles his face and Eddie leans into it like a flower starving for the nurturing touch of the sun. They are so close that Eddie can feel Steve's body shaking as well, and Eddie doesn't know what it means, but he wants to take Steve and hold him until it stops. Until they can both be put back together again.

"Eddie, I -"

A knock interrupts what Steve is about to say. "Babe, is everything okay?"

Eddie feels his heart crumple in his chest at the sound of Steve's boyfriend's voice.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Steve calls over his shoulder, but when he turns around, Eddie steps away from him.

"Go to your boyfriend, Steve." Eddie tells him before grabbing his jacket and walking out of his bedroom and towards the door. He doesn't know where he's going, just that he hopes they're both gone when he gets back.

He walks aimlessly through the night, replaying their fight over and over again. The way he reacted when he saw Steve and Sam making out on the couch, how Steve followed him, confronted him. Steve telling him he missed him with tears in his eyes and holding his face so gently afterwards.

Maybe it's his Hail Mary, but he has to tell Steve how he feels, if only to make him understand that it's not Steve who's the problem, but Eddie.

Letting himself into their apartment, he finds it dark and quiet as he tiptoes to his room, and he's glad for the delay.

What he isn't prepared for is the sight of Steve lying on Eddie's bed, fast asleep, clutching Eddie's favorite hoodie to his chest.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddiemas #my writing #angst with happy ending

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

bounty - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 1.4k, poly!au, wild west!au even tho it's hard to tell in a fic this short lol, bounty hunters, this is an equilateral triangle of a relationship, fluff but suggestive, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, i may expand on this but rly who's to say

BOUND - poly!au masterlist

the mattress dips beside you, rousing you from sleep.

you don’t open your eyes, nor do you feel any panic. instead, you find yourself reaching out towards the form that’s curled up into your side; familiar and warm to the touch.

“welcome home,” you whisper quietly, slumber still clinging to your throat and making your words rasp a little more than usual. “good morning.”

“it’s not morning yet,” vash whispers in reply with a laugh creeping into his voice. he presses a kiss against your temple, nosing into your hair. “you should go back to sleep.”

he sounds tired as he clings to you tightly, and you open your eyes to meet his sleepy gaze. he smiles, even through his exhaustion, and you watch fondly as his eyes crinkle at the corners in the dim light of the oil lamp at your bedside.

you shift a little closer to him in your bed, craning up to press a kiss to the little mark below his eye. he sighs contently as your lips brush against his skin, his body slackening into yours as though he's finally allowing his weariness to catch up to him. finally allowing himself to rest.

you pull away, brushing a few strands of blonde hair back from his face.

he has a bruise at the edge of his jaw, and dark rings of shadow that are deepest at the inner corner of his eyes. his skin looks sallow, and his lips dry.

you wonder how rough these past few weeks have been.

“where’s nico?” you ask gently, cradling his face in your hands. the question has been at the back of your mind since your bed dipped only on one side.

vash averts his eyes from yours guiltily.

“vash?” you press, a sudden knot of anxiety winding in the pit of your stomach. you sit up in bed, your quilt pooling in your lap as it slips from your body and reveals the cotton of your gauzy nightdress.

“he’s outside,” the man beside you murmurs, pink blooming high across his cheeks as his head rests against his pillow. he pouts a little, finally peeking back up at you through his lashes with a wounded gaze. “he’s mad at me.”

“oh?” you ask, fighting back a laugh at how sheepish and petulant the man below you looks. “and why is that?”

vash purses his lips even further.

“the guy we were after…”

“the wanted man whose bounty you were hunting,” you correct vash lightly, a lilt of playfulness in your tone.

“yeah, him,” vash nods, and then grimaces, “he sort of… got away.”

you let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“vash, that’s…”

“the third one in a row, i know. i know.” vash wraps his arms around your waist and pulls his head into your lap. you card your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you for comfort.

“did you let this one get away again?” you ask quietly, but not in an accusatory way.

vash says nothing, but that’s an admission in and of itself.

you sigh, your fingers stilling as they trace through the strands of blonde, the locks curling around your knuckles. you shift towards the edge of the bed, and vash tries to keep you where you are by tightening his hold around your waist.

“i’m just gonna go check on him,” you assure him when he looks up at you with wide eyes. you dip down and press a kiss to his lips—the ones you’ve been missing so much for the fortnight he and nicholas had been away. he whines as you pull away, and you smile against his mouth. you kiss him again, more chaste this time. “i’ll be back.”

nicholas is on the front porch, staring out into the sea of sand that surrounds the little ranch you call home. his beloved boots have been kicked off beside the door, and his shirt is unbuttoned to reveal the undershirt he wears beneath. the tails of the shirt are still tucked into his trousers but he’s unfastened their button at his waist too, and his suspenders are the only thing keeping them on as he reclines back onto his elbows against the wooden slats of the porch deck.

you know he hears the screen door open to let you out, and you're even more certain that he hears the sound of it shutting behind you once you've stepped outside. the smell of tobacco clings to the edge of the night wind. it’s familiar, comforting. reminds you that he’s home. you draw in a long breath to savour it.

“you should be in bed, kid,” nicholas rasps, tapping the ash off the end of his sad, vaguely mangled cigarette.

“i’m not allowed to come and welcome you home?” you kneel behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. it feels nice to have him in your arms again. feels right.

“not when you’ve got a crybaby to coddle in there,” he grunts, but you still feel him lean back into your embrace. you hide your pleased smile against the crown of his head.

“he’s probably already asleep,” you murmur into the top nicholas’s hair, swaying him gently. “he feels bad. he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“i am mad at him,” nicholas snaps, but you see through the sharpness of his tone. he’s tired, probably hungry, but not sincerely angry. “he fucked up another job for us.”

“guess that’s what you get taking in a fugitive as a partner, mister bounty hunter,” you tease him, pressing a kiss to his throat. his skin tastes of salt and desert sand, like days spent in the sun and labour. you feel how he shivers at the gentle brush of your mouth against his pulse. "and a bleeding hearted one at that."

“you’re the one who took him in like a stray,” nicholas complains, “i’m only putting up with him for your sake.”

it’s a lie, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s just as attached to the blonde presently curled up in your bed, the one too big for just him, as you are. it's the reason nicholas wears a thin gold band that he takes impossibly good care of, just like the two of you do, on his left ring finger.

nicholas tips his head back so he can finally look at you, his cigarette still dangling from his lips. the corner of his mouth quirks slightly as he draws a breath in, the cherry burning red in the night. you pluck the cigarette from his lips as he lets the smoke slip out on his exhale, his dark eyes still fixed to your face as he appraises you.

you observe him similarly, scanning over him as though taking inventory of the state he's fallen into since he's been away. he’s in the same shape as vash, from what you can tell. you spot some bruises mottling his skin, some rough stubble coming in at the edge of his jaw. there’s a blood stain on the collar of his shirt, and you aren’t sure if it’s his own or someone else’s, but you know it will be a pain to wash out.

but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

“if he’s a stray, what does that make you?” you ask him with a little laugh, his cigarette still pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

he quirks a brow. “if i say ‘the luckiest guy in the world’ are you gonna think i’m just trying to take you to bed?”

you snort, stamping the stub of the cigarette out onto the wooden porch and then flicking the butt away into the sand. you dip down until you’re nose to nose with him.

“of course I am,” you reply to him, your lips brushing against his as you speak the words. you can taste the tobacco that clings to his mouth from this close, but you don't mind it when it tastes like home. “and it’s our bed, nicholas. so take me to it whenever you’d like.”

(read part 2 here!)

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun stampede fic #trigun fic #writing #poly vashwood

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

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don't know if you're doing it for him but au request for country club!steve and comfort! like reader has to calm or soothe him

Only five seconds seemed to pass between the front door closing and Steve throwing himself down into the armchair across from you with a heavy sigh.

He looked weary, tired, but no less handsome, his suit jacket thrown over the back of the seat and his tie loosened, top three shirt buttons undone. He swiped a hand over his face, rubbed at the corner of his eyes and then met your gaze, his smile tired and soft.

“Hey, honey,” he murmured, looking over at your lounging on the sofa.

“I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” You were gentle in how you spoke, sympathetic.

Steve scoffed, a breath of humourless laughter leaving his lips and he tugged on the ends of his hair, making a mess of it. “That’s an understatement. Mr Laing is tryin’ to play hardball as if this share is worth be chasing it. He’s got Harvey and Paulson talking to me like they’re Wall Street big dogs and I’m just—“ Steve broke off, sighing. “And my dad’s on my ass getting me to close and he won’t fuckin’ listen when I tell him it’s not worth it.”

You pouted, brows knitted together with concern because your boyfriend always lost his cool when his father was involved. So you kicked off the cashmere blanket you’d been using to stay warm and offered a hand to Steve instead. “C’mere, baby,” you cooed. “Lemme help, huh?”

You didn’t know shit about stocks and shares or the inside workings of Mr Laing’s scotch distillery, but you knew how to make Steve feel better.

It didn’t take much coaxing and Steve rose from his slump, crossing the living room to nudge himself between your legs, his shoes kicked off on the rug. He groaned as he lay over your, head resting on your tummy, a pretty, humming noise leaving his lips when your fingers delved into his hair. He rubbed his nose along the cotton of your shirt, just above your belly button and he sighed, much more satisfied than the last one.

It was soft, so incredibly fond, the way you skimmed your fingertips over the planes of his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, alone his jaw. You watched his eyes slip shut, lashes fanning over flushed cheeks and you grinned, smoothing his wild hair back from his forehead.

“Have you had dinner?” He asked into the soft of your stomach, his wide hands coming up to coast along your waist.

“Not yet,” you told him. “Was waitin’ on you.”

Another groan, luxurious and loving, a kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re too fuckin’ cute,” Steve whispered. “Wanna order in?”

“We can do that,” you agreed and you knew then rhat there wouldn’t be any plans for either of you to leave the couch that night - not that you minded. “Someone’s gotta call though.”

Steve shuffled closer, eyes still closed, pouting. “No, no, no.” He found your wrist blind, guided your hand back to his head. “Not yet, keep playin’ with my hair, m’almost cured.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington blurb #Steve harrington oneshot #countryclub!steve #Steve baby blurb

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violetsiren90 · 2 months

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Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others. You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer.

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like.

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again.

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks. 

~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place.

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name.

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit. 

~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen. 

-Fin-

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naffeclipse · 6 months

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Have you considered writing a cowboy DCA au? Or a vampire AU?

I have ideas for both! I mention my Vampire AU in my Laundry List of AUs Post, but I haven't talked about a Cowboy AU yet!

For my cowboy AU, Y/N owns a prairie house and a small patch of land out in the wild west. You work hard and make do even though you're falling behind on payments and falling deeper into debt and danger of the bank taking your property back. It's a tough life. You know that.

Nothing exciting happens around here until one day you see a figure riding in from the distance. An animatronic on a horse. You're a bit weary of strangers, especially out here, where cattle rustlers and outlaws are aplenty, so you greet the rider with a shotgun. He's all smiles and hand waves, his sun rays partly hidden underneath his hat. There's a shiny pistol in the holster on his belt and a rifle hanging off his back. A large bag is strapped to the saddle. He's careful to not reach for something he shouldn't, and you let him dismount to talk to you, lowering your weapon.

He reassures you he means no trouble and that he just needs shelter for the night, if you don't mind. He's more than willing to offer a helping hand in exchange. He's a talker, sweet and charming, and you're not in a position to refuse extra farm help. You put him to work. He does it all without complaint which you appreciate.

There's a moment when you take a break from the back-breaking work to lie down in the field, staring up at the sky. Your eyes end up closing. You feel a gentle shadow over you. When you look up, Sun is there, casting blissfully cool shade and asking if it's alright for him to stand here. You tell him it's just fine. You ask him if there's any worry of him overheating. He says no, but thank you kindly for the concern.

Later, when you check in the barn, you notice that the large bag that was on his horse is now gone.

You don't want any trouble.

At sundown, when you call for him to come inside, you're greeted with a different animatronic, still smiling and soothing and promising that it's the same cowboy, please put the shotgun down. You've never met an animatronic like him. Sun. Moon. You let him come inside.

You spend a quiet night with the cowboy. He helps you clean up your dishes even though he had no part in the mess-making. There's little talk of where he came from or where he's going, but he mentions lying low for a while. You don't want to know. You don't ask. He asks if he might touch the guitar you have there in the corner. You tell him that's fine. You haven't played it in a long time. He serenades the night with plucked chords and twaining strings, and somehow, you fall asleep listening to the gentle strums and wake up the next morning in your bed.

Sun greets you all cheerful. You don't know what to feel about having another around to talk to... but you're adjusting. He asks for another day's work for another night's lodging. You agree. He smiles so big you're afraid he'll burst.

You get a visit from a fellow farmer (Sun makes himself scarce on the rare chance a visitor comes) who talks about the news, the gangs rolling through the valley, the cattle missing, and a distant bank just recently robbed. You shake your head.

Later, in the barn, you're shifting hay on the hayloft when you step back and expect to find solid flooring but there's nothing but air and you're falling—then caught in solid arms. Sun exclaims how you have to be careful! You would have gotten hurt. You wish he would put you down already, holding you like this turns you all red and embarrassed. Even when he sets you on your feet, Sun insists he finishes with the hay up top. Your pride is awfully stung but the ghost of his arms around you chases you outside and it's only there that you can finally think clearly after all the excitement.

When night falls, Moon helps you deal with a fox in the chicken pen but in chasing off the fiend, something snaps along his arm when he hops a fence and you know that ugly sound means something's broken. Wires spark in the dark. You rush to his side faster than you've ever run. You gingerly hold his arm and guide him back home to fix the damage done even though you're only a support to his injury, and he, thankfully, can tend to himself. He says he's learned how to take care of little problems like these since he's been running by himself for a while. You almost ask what he did before he came here but you don't dare. You told yourself you didn't want trouble. Getting attached will do nothing but stir up your feelings. There will be no one else to blame if your heart gets broken.

He picks at the guitar strings to test his repair and sings a little song that you swear you won't fall asleep to but, again, you wake up in your bed when you know you didn't tuck yourself in. Sun is already outside, getting a jumpstart on the day's chores.

The cowboy stays another night, then another, and then a few weeks have flown by. You get a visitor from the bank asking for payment or else they're taking your land and everything on it. You chase off the man, spitting mad, but you're still in troubled waters. You're going to lose all you have. Sun witnesses the encounter from a distance but you don't speak of it all day. Then, Sun finds you when the sun burns red across the sky.

He talks softly to you and before you know it, he's leading you by the hand and spinning you in a little dance you've never danced before. Sun leads, and you follow because he's the last light you have, and when he dips you low, you rise with the Moon in the near darkness, dancing and dancing on dirt. You've never held a hand that felt so right with his arms twirling you around and around—you almost forget you're going to lose it all.

Besides the crackle of the fire in your hearth that night, Moon coaxes you to talk about the money you owe and your pride almost bites your tongue off but you do it anyway. Moon asks when the bank man is going to come again. You tell him in the morning but you don't want charity. You don't need it. You owe enough debts as it is. He gives you a grin that is too mischievous for his own good.

That night, you lean against his shoulder when he plays a gentle song, a ballad about lovers falling and magnolias blooming. You wake up in your bed but it's still dark out and Moon is gone. You get up to find him but he's already at the door, holding a large bag—the one that was missing from his saddle. He tells you to pay the bank when they come and get a receipt. You ask him what in blue blazes he's doing with a bag full of money but he shoves it in your hands. Morning spills across the land. Then it's Sun winking at you. The bank is coming. He tells you he needs to go now, but he promises to come back for you.

You tell him you can't owe him like this—you'll never be able to repay it. Sun promises that you won't owe him anything, he'll get the money back.

You can hardly be angry before he's on his horse and taking off into the distance. You curse yourself out for being a fool and having a heart that wants to stick roots into anything that lingers longer for a day and for having this bag of money that isn't yours and for letting that cowboy dance and serenade you, but when the bank sends another man to collect, you pay it all. You get that receipt. The man accepts the payment and goes on his merry way, back to the bank that can no longer hound you. All of your debts are erased, thanks to the cowboy.

You don't know where he was hiding the money. You remember the news of a distant bank that was robbed.

It's only a few days later that you learn from a fellow farmer that the man carrying back your money to the bank was ambushed. An animatronic outlaw caught him alone. He stole the entire bag of cash. The farmer laughs when he says the bank man was madder than a wet hen. He also remarks that he's surprised they didn't come after you for more money, but you had a receipt. They can't touch you.

After the farmer leaves, you sit in a daze and then curse the cowboy out again. You still owe him.

You didn't want trouble, yet here you are, all twitterpated and waiting for when he comes down from the horizon.

#okay that's like the beginning but there's a very dangerous gang and sun/moon weren't always running on his own #and of course he comes back #but he accidentally brings the very thing he was running from back to you oops #turns out he's a slippery fellow and well someone wants him #and you're the sweetest honey to use to catch their fly #cowboy au #cowboy!sun #cowboy!moon #magnolias blooming #i didn't mean to write this much but uhhh here we are

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darth-sonny · 1 year

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they're both bitchless for two completly different reasons

Odd Man Out © @cherrytraveller

#omo leonardo is bitchless due to not trying and/or potential no rizz #wnw lee is bitchless due to aroace-ism #omo leonardo gives me the vibes of a person who thinks that talking to someone means that theyre friends now #and lee is gonna leave if this idiot doesnt change the topic soon #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #my art #sonny draws #odd man out #weary and wild au #peepaw multiverse

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

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CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district.

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy.

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside.

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice.

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before.

The search process for Japanese property could range anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles.

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh.

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell.

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax.

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch.

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out.

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again.

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside.

It’s a beautiful house.

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again.

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought.

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder.

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in.

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here.

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window.

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you.

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.”

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you.

There’s something about him.

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh.

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.”

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.”

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city.

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him.

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance.

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything.

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it.

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens.

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?”

You nod.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.”

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?”

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.”

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house.

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?”

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does.

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.”

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask.

“Rough childhood, then?”

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight.

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real.

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles.

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.”

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything. He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at.

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?”

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.”

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course,”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it.

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely comfortable in overstaying his welcome.

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink.

“Cheers to our hard work,”

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.”

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label.

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him.

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.”

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again.

“Is that so?”

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,”

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him.

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.”

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer.

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.”

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city.

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition.

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet.

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life.

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water.

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it.

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?)

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe.

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners.

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt.

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.)

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him.

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability.

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for.

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock.

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his.

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression.

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling.

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Hi neighbor,”

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,”

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,”

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere.

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.”

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying.

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?”

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can.

“I do, actually. Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.”

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes.

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble them.”

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,”

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset.

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,”

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship.

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that.

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat.

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach.

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,”

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.”

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises.

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize.

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best.

But in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate.

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you.

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu.

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you.

The first is the way they describe Hawks.

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted.

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity.

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea.

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased.

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be.

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand.

Then there is the other thing.

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here.

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them.

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity.

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions?

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself.

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark.

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you. You have to know or it'll swallow you up.

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it.

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know.

You need to know for sure.

It rains.

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early.

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down.

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready.

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat.

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always.

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go. Both of these you believe with full conviction.

But you go. You go.

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk.

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line.

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive.

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours.

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat.

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer.

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does.

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you.

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head.

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.”

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,”

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,”

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,”

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came.

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests.

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house.

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,”

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,”

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.”

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.”

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall.

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.”

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?”

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,”

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.”

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,”

You frown at him.

“...Thanks for the offer,”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile.

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.”

They’re not what you expect.

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do.

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system.

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction.

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him.

The last person you meet is Touya.

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once.

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites.

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless.

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed.

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions.

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would.

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone.

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides.

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate.

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you.

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,”

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,”

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks.

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?”

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.”

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,”

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,”

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?”

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,”

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,”

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike.

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight.

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately.

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat.

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,”

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom.

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it.

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that.

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm.

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself.

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.”

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you.

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats.

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully.

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,”

You clear your throat.

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?”

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.”

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything.

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated.

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke.

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion.

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act.

You don’t know which things he wants more.

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you.

You nearly scream.

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run.

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running.

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?”

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,”

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you.

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening.

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.”

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows.

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.”

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it.

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?”

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.”

He pulls his hand away from you.

“What do you want from me?”

Hawks looks surprised then laughs.

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding.

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound.

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up.

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no way I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.”

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is. “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.”

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can.

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive.

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy.

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe.

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”

#cannibalism cw #noncon cw #yandere cw #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #sorry if there are . still errors

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aristoltekitsune · 1 year

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Some sketches from various rottmnt aus and my own take on Sophie Campbell tmnt character Artemisia

Mikey: celestial au @ashwii

Leo:separated Leo au @dianagj-art

Four/Leo:weary and wild au @darth-sonny

Artemisia: my own take on Sophie Campbell character from her secret of the ooze comic @mooncalfe-art

(she is a chinese golden thread turtle, she uses a bow and arrow, is a shy and kind and loves reading and writing poetry)

#art #sketch #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #tmnt fanart #leonardo #rottmnt fanart #tmnt #tmnt idw #rottmnt mikey #weary and wild au #separated leo au #rottmnt celestial au #tmnt secret of the ooze #artemisia #rottmnt artemisia #Tmnt artemisia #secret of the ooze artemisia #celestial au mikey

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dearestspirit · 5 months

Text

a note heard in heaven - 01

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,388 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | previous part | next part

“Fuck!” Mizu grunts, knocking her head into the ceiling of her little room after hearing your scream.

Hissing, she hurriedly flails up and out of bed, Madame Kaji’s words on her mind. The older woman had told Mizu about your nightmares– she was no stranger to them herself. If she were back in that dingy village she called home right now, she would’ve gone right back to sleep. It’d be a lie if she said she wasn’t thinking about ignoring you, even now. Taigen would have her head if she didn’t follow through with the plan, though… The thought of losing out on the money is enough to make her quicken her pace through your door, nearly tripping over herself.

Your voice is torn between muttering and full-blown shrieking– crying for your mother. Your mother, who, as far as Mizu knew, was long gone. Once she reaches your bed, she’s out of breath and already has her arms at, what she assumes is, your shoulders to hold you in place. Buried under your blanket and absolutely thrashing around, Mizu can barely get a word out to calm you down. Eventually, she can tell you’ve become more conscious when you start calling out for the name of your old handmaiden.

“No, no, I’m the new one,” Mizu hushes you, your wild movements slowly ceasing. “You had a bad dream, go back to sleep.” Her tone is rough, hoping you’re through the worst of it.

Finally, you take hold of the blanket, easing the hem of it down to your midsection. Mizu, for a moment, gulps as you’re revealed to her. In the glint of the moonlight, your eyes were almost crystalline. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, complexion ruddy with grief. Her eyes trail down to your lips, trembling. Grasped tightly in your arms was a doll. You looked… fragile. Fragile in an all too familiar way. Fragile in the way that she knew she once was too– a child, having a bad dream, calling for their mother. No mother would come for either of you.

She watches you raise your arm, finger pointing out into the gardens your room faces. “Do you see the cherry tree? My aunt… she passed. There’s nights where I see her out there.” Your rasping barely breaks through the quiet, hoarse and shaky.

Mizu’s attention is turned towards the large window, squinting out of it. Watching you from the corner of her eye, she can’t shake the thought of how eerie you are. Neither Taigen nor Madame Kaji had even hinted at the notion of you seeing ghosts to her. She wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but she felt the weight of her responsibility for you become heavier. Melancholy like yours was easy to sense, deeply buried as it may be. This job was going to be the end of her. She sighed, hoping to turn around and find you peacefully sleeping.

“For fuck’s sake!” Mizu grits her teeth, finding you not even in the room at all once she turns back.

She’s quick to chase after you, finding you huddled in a swathe of your own blankets at the top of the stairs. You’re sniffling into them, knees pressed tightly to your chest. When you peer up at her, a zing of guilt courses up her spine. Maybe you didn’t just look fragile.

“Come to your senses yet?” She asks, tilting her head with her arms crossed. Reaching a foot out, she nudges at your legs.

You give her a sluggish nod in response, having exerted all your energy. Between the scrambling in bed and the mad dashing to the staircase, you felt well and truly exhausted. Part of you felt remorse; for looking at Mizu, even in the dim light, you could see the weariness under her eyes. In the gauntness of her cheekbones, too. Despite feeling despair holding you down, you reach your arms out, gesturing for her help. Mizu drags a hand over her face, grumbling. Squatting down, she’s somehow able to enclose her arms around the mass of blankets covering you, lifting you easily. It barely takes her any time to lug you back into bed.

Her awkward nature is obvious as she stands once more at your side. “Okay, well… goodnight?”

Sitting up, you don’t hesitate to take Mizu’s sleeve into your hand and pull. In response, she tugs herself away from you, scoffing.

“Don’t grab me like that,” Mizu seethes. “Ever. Just call for me.”

Your mouth runs dry. Whether that’s due to the harshness of her tone or the fact you upset her, you aren’t entirely sure. “I apologize… Could you stay with me until I fall asleep again?”

Her face scrunches. “Don’t you have a husband? Call him in here.”

You squirm, clearly uncomfortable. “We aren’t actually married yet. Calling each other husband and wife… it’s for appearances,” Your head lolls back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. That doll you had– it’s returned to its position of being clutched tightly in your arms. “Men like him are only gentle with women when others are watching.”

Mizu’s chest heaves, a strong exhale leaving her as she contemplates her next move. “Fine, just for tonight.”

Your eyes light up almost instantaneously. The sight makes her swallow, stiffly. Had… anyone ever looked at her like that? Those sparks of joy, finally overtaking that shadowy gloom in your irises; it captivated her. Briefly, at least.

“Ugh,” she shook her head, taking little care to climb into the spot next to you. “Look, if I’m staying here until you fall asleep, you’re facing the other way.”

“Your eyes are blue. I couldn’t see them that well before.”

“Yes, they are. Just another good reason for you to turn around, right?” she sneers. “Or better yet, go ahead and fire me.”

You frown, holding her gaze. “I wouldn’t fire you for something like that,” you’re mumbling as you bring a hand up to her cheek, caressing it with the back of your knuckle. “For what it’s worth, I think they’re beautiful. Someone would’ve been very happy to have you as a wife someday, I’m sure.”

Mizu snorts at that, carefully edging her face away from your touch. “I’ll pass, but… thanks. Even if it’s empty flattery.”

She can see your lips form into a pout. “It’s not!”

You’re playful, all of a sudden. She figures that this is it. Your loneliness bubbling to the surface. An undrownable creature made of desires and aches. Mizu knew your old handmaidens were mostly a lot older than you– elderly women vastly more experienced than the other youthful servant girls. It’s been very, very long since you’ve had a friend, if you’ve ever had one to begin with. It was only slightly unfortunate to her that she’d have to be the one to prey upon your vulnerabilities.

“Do brats like you whine all the time?” She huffs, taking your arms within her hands and turning you around herself. “You must be worn out by now, so go to bed. I’ll… be here.”

You chuckle at her, the grimace she must be sporting is obvious even though you’re not looking anymore. You can’t help but think that your mattress felt a bit softer tonight.

It was a long few minutes that passed by, Mizu’s eyes trained on the motions of your breathing. When your body rose, fell. The slight shivers that would run through you when your blanket slipped lower than wanted. Clearing her throat, she eased herself off of your bed. With her first night as your handmaiden over, she questioned just how sane she’d be after the end of all this. At least she’d be rich, she supposed, slipping back into her bedroll with a smirk.

Mizu awoke to a bleary morning and the sound of Madame Kaji’s grating nags in her ear. Something about even the handmaiden eating in the servant’s quarters– she didn’t care all that much, barely half conscious to hear it. It took her a few groggy minutes to make her way outside and get her hands on a bowl of rice and some sort of… porridge, she assumed.

The hall was filled with the gossip of the other young girls serving here. Together they squealed about The Count; he was due to make an appearance today. Supposedly they saw a light ghosting through the hallway, speculating it was him meeting you in your bedroom. She almost laughed at that, knowing the reality is that it was her going after you during your nightmare. Fiddling with her chopsticks, she felt little appetite knowing Taigen would be here today. Everything in this plan had to go perfectly, there was no room for her to be suspicious or lack confidence in her abilities. Perhaps the seemingly endless downpour of rain was also putting a damper on her? Taking only a few more bites, she pushed her bowls away from her. Padding over to where she left her shoes, she felt a bristle of anger. One of her shoes was gone, with a crowd of other servant girls giggling. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for them, Madame Kaji was approaching her with a parasol held over her head.

“Is that how you intend on going to meet with the Lady?” Her eyebrow raises, gesturing to Mizu’s feet.

“I didn’t exactly plan on having my shoe taken.” Mizu fumes.

Madame Kaji sighs, massaging her temple. “Ah… Very well.”

A sense of unease settled in Mizu’s chest. This would be her first official meeting with you. It’d be up to you whether you’d take her on as handmaiden or not… and it was looking grim for her, right now. As if she isn’t on enough people’s hit list, she’d have to go and be added to Taigen’s for screwing up. She follows closely behind Madame Kaji as she leads her to your room, trying her best to ignore the sogginess of her footwear. It takes everything in her to not grumble with every step, keeping up a polite disposition. Even if you were willing to put up with her irritable nature, Madame Kaji certainly wasn’t.

Before long, she stood in front of you in a deep bow, hands folded at her waist.

“This is Mizu.” Madame Kaji spoke.

You felt a prickle of heat trail up your neck, a twinge of embarrassment at realizing that through the entire night, you hadn’t asked for her name once.

“I’m at your service, my Lady.” She straightens herself out, eyes now set on you.

You’re much more put together today. That hair of yours is pinned up neatly, off your shoulders. And your eyes, today, aren’t sullied by the red tint of sorrow. Your choice of dress guides the eyes– from nose to lips to neck to the faint hint of exposed collarbones. Delicate; the word that comes to mind when Mizu collects her thoughts. Madame Kaji leaves a less than pleasant swat on her back.

“Right, a letter from my last mistress.” Mizu stands before you, holding out the paper.

You don’t open it yet, instead choosing to focus your sight on Mizu. “Did you enjoy your first night here? It’s rare for the sun to come out. My husband prefers it that way, otherwise his extensive library would be at risk. To take joy in a place like this… it’s difficult, no?”

Mizu’s eyesight flickers between you and Madame Kaji, wondering how to answer. “I don’t mind it.”

“Hm,” You hum inquisitively. “You don’t have to lie when I question you. I want your honesty. Do you have parents?”

“What?” Mizu asks, somewhere between anger and surprise.

“I’ll be going now.” Madame Kaji shakes her head, sighing.

“I don’t have any either, so don’t feel bad. I had my aunt and Madame Kaji, so how much can the love of a mother really be worth?” For a second, she hears the twist of something bitter in you. You look back down at the letter Mizu handed you. “Read this to me, if you will.”

“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?” She grunts, taking the parchment out of your hands.

“It’s only because my head hurts before every reading session with my husband. Though your honesty is refreshing.” You’re grinning, unused to someone like her. Your previous handmaidens were at your beck and call– annoyingly so.

It’s odd, but in her mind she’s quick to consider you… charming. You’ve been spoon-fed and privileged your whole life, yet here you are conversing with her without taking any offense. Delight has always been scarce for her; still, she reminds herself whatever she feels now will and must be short lived.

“Dear Lady of the House… The Count said you needed a new maid…” Mizu starts, reading off the neat handwriting which she knows is Taigen’s, but you're oblivious to.

“Ah, enough,” You wave a hand at her, taking the letter back. “You’ll be my handmaid. I know Madame Kaji forbids it, but I don’t particularly care if you curse or steal. It’s my word that decides whether you stay or not.”

“You speak like you have a condition for my staying?” Mizu questions.

“I do. Don’t ever lie to me.” You smile, though your words are cold. It’s a chilling ultimatum that rings in the back of her mind for a while.

She freezes as you put her hands on her– resting them on the outside of her arms, slowly trailing to her wrists. There’s a second where she can pinpoint the exact change in your expression. Where it morphs from man-eating to genuine. She thinks that through all the rain, the sun might be shining a little brighter through the gray now.

“And, another question,” You’re scanning her appearance, zeroing in on the frames sitting on her nose. “Did Madame Kaji ask you to wear those- your glasses?”

“Yes, for my eyes.” She mumbles, finding the topic easily aggravating her.

“You don’t have to wear them if you'd rather not, and…” A finger of yours comes up, untucking a curl of her locks from their neat place. “You can wear your hair like this. It’s how you had it last night, too. You seemed more comfortable.”

Since when has anyone like you ever cared about the comfort of someone below you? She opens her mouth to speak, maybe even say some sort of gratitude, but you’re already flitting away from her. You’re eager, waving her to and fro every corner of your room. Trinkets on display are taken out of their designated place and into her palms, each one connected to a story. You talk.

You talk, and that loneliness once again bubbles, showing it’s soft underbelly to the skies.

“This is my mother.” You open up a locket to reveal an old photo.

To Mizu, the two of you have an uncanny resemblance. It’s almost bizarre, the way each of you is the picture of a man’s ideal wife. Again, the word delicate springs to mind. “She’s stunning.”

You tilt your head, eyes squinting. “And me? My husband says I don’t compare to my mother.” You turn, mimicking your mother’s pose. There’s nerves in your tone, a shadow looming over you as you wait in suspense for her answer.

Fuck. Your own despair would betray you. You’ve unknowingly gotten yourself ensnared in the perfect moment to sink her teeth into you. Your softness would be met only with blades. With her as his wing-woman, you’d be eating out of Taigen’s hand in no time.

Her stare lingers on you. “The Count says–”

“You’ve met him?”

“What?” She stutters, blinking rapidly. “I mean, my… aunt met him. She used to nanny him, so I’ve just heard things from her.”

“So, what did he say about me then?” Your eyes hold an expression of curiosity, maybe even a tinge of hope.

“He lays awake at night thinking of you. In bed.” She tacks on the last part of her sentence as an extra measure.

There’s a brief flash of a smirk upon your face before you speak. “In bed…” You trail off, gaze landing on her one shoeless foot. “And what happened there?”

When she recalls the events to you of her losing her shoe, you click your tongue, sighing. You reach out a hand to take her by the arm, but remember her warning about never grabbing her. Instead, she herself holds out her arm for you, rolling her eyes. Guiding her over to a large closet, you open the two doors, displaying your wide collection of shoes.

“Take a pair, please.” You indicate which ones would fit her. “It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere, so someone should get some use out of them.”

Mizu, uncertain, takes the plainest pair out of the ones you’ve shown her. They’re simple and black, seemingly comfortable enough to do her handmaiden work in.

You seem to be happy with her choice, the way your lips upturn. “You didn’t want any of the flashy expensive pairs?”

She shakes her head, shrugging. “Not my style.”

“Hm,” You look out the window, then shift your gaze to the room’s clock. “I have to go for my husband’s reading. You can stay put, I’ll go alone.”

“It’s pouring out there.” Mizu says, as if you can’t see the state of the weather.

“Come get me at noon, okay?” There’s that smile of yours again– do you have to smile so much?

The door is closed behind you before Mizu gets any sort of goodbye out. Adjusting her glasses, she snorted as her eyes landed on the clock you were looking at before. You’re rich, of course you have the latest inventions at your disposal. It was a handcrafted Western clock made of brass. She wondered who had gifted it to you, were they too trying to get in your good graces? Seduce you? She’s not sure if it mattered, since she– The Count, she corrects herself– would be the one to succeed. Letting out a moan of boredom, she decides to pass her time by looking through your belongings.

The overindulgence of wealth nearly sickens her. Your extravagant kimono collection, sorted by color, the best season to wear them, what obi pairs well with them. She thought that was nauseating until she plucked through the cases of jewelry. Gold, silver, every gem you could imagine existed right here in front of her very eyes. It’s not impossible for her to picture you bathed in their opulence, as the kind of woman that such a fortune suits. Would you ask her to put your earrings on for you? Moreover, would she be tame, tender? Snapping the jewelry box shut, she checks your foreign clock once more.

Noon. With clouds still darkening the sky, she grabbed one of your umbrellas, heading out the door to follow the path you had taken to your husband’s library. Stepping carefully to avoid scuffing her shoes– or, your shoes– in case you’d ask for them back. There was a thin layer of trust she was willing to grant you, but she of all people knew how quickly one could turn. When she makes it to the door of the library, she sits at the entrance.

You’re kneeled on the floor, your husband sitting at the table. He shoots you a questioning glare once his eyes land on Mizu.

“This is my new handmaiden, Mizu.” You’re talking to him, but your eyes stay on the floor, hands neatly in your lap.

Mizu goes to walk inside, before your husband shouts, pointing at a golden snake decoration. It gives her a shock, stepping backwards. She sees you pull a lever in the corner of the room, bringing down a grated gate.

“You may not cross that barrier!” He sounds fucking deranged, Mizu notes. She also makes the observation of his black tongue. Ink?

Trying to peer through the gaps of the metal, she searches for you. At the lever she saw before, you’re rooted in place. Trembling, in the face of an unhinged man you were forced to call ‘husband’, you looked scared. Fragile. Delicate.

Mizu wondered just how long she could pretend to be picking up the pieces of you until she would have to let them fall and shatter– to dust, to infinitesimal shards no one could see anymore.

a/n: the official chapter 1!! i hope people enjoy and can see where i'm going with mizu's characterization. there's a lot of shuffling i have to do of the plot to make sure i feel it's accurate to mizu. or at least as accurate as it can be in an au. so i hope that it's worth it and people enjoy!! i can't guarantee the quickest publishing rate with chapters, as i'm still figuring out how i want to structure them and they'll probably vary here and there in length. anyway thank you for reading!!

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

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kedsandtubesocks · 1 month

Text

be your hallowed ground

Demon!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes

word count: 7.9k

a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡

The forest stretches out far, daunting.

Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.

Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.

Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.

Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.

The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.

You whip around.

No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.

The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.

Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.

“There you are, turtle dove.”

The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.

Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.

Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.

Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.

“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.

The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.

“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”

His name - Ezra.

Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.

Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.

“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.

“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.

You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.

“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”

Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.

But then the wind picks up.

From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.

“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”

He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.

After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.

With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.

The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.

“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.

Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.

The man chuckles.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.

You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.

Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.

However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.

Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.

“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”

“They are.” You answer stiffly.

Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.

“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”

He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.

“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”

“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”

“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.

So you reserve your words again.

“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.

“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.

As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.

“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”

“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.

“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.

“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.

The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.

You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.

Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.

“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.

“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.

Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.

“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.

“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”

He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.

So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”

“Truly?” He now squawks confused.

“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”

Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.

“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.

“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”

“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.

An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.

“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”

“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.

Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.

“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”

You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.

He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.

“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”

His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.

His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.

You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.

You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.

Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.

“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”

“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.

“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”

Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.

“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”

His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.

Now his eyes flicker to you.

“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.

But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.

Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.

You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.

Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.

Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.

A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.

“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.

He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.

But, his words confuse you.

“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.

That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.

How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.

Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.

“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”

So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.

How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.

The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.

Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.

Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.

The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.

Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.

“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.

So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.

“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.

Where could he have gone?

“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.

How did he get there without you noticing?

In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.

“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”

“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.

A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.

“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”

No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.

Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.

“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.

“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.

“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.

“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.

“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”

“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.

Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.

“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”

He noticed it too.

Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.

“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.

Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.

“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”

You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.

A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.

“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.

You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.

“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”

You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.

“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.

Ezra gasps small but surprised.

“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.

“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.

The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”

Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.

You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.

“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”

You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.

You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.

“Thank you kindly.”

Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.

However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.

You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.

“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.

The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.

Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.

The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.

However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.

It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.

But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.

Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.

Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.

Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?

You must be imagining things.

Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.

He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.

A thought flutters into your mind.

You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.

Dread fills you.

How could you think such thoughts?

“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.

“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”

The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.

In thought, you hum a small noise.

“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.

You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.

“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.

He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.

“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.

“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”

Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.

“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.

“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.

“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.

You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.

Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.

You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.

But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.

His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.

Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.

“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.

You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.

Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.

His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.

His eyes and yours find each other.

“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.

Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.

You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.

You want more, need it.

Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.

The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.

Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.

Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.

Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.

Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”

His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.

“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”

You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.

You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.

You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.

You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.

Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.

Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.

You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.

“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.

Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.

Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.

His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.

The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.

Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.

Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.

“Your wing, turtle dove.”

Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.

The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.

“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.

Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.

“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.

Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”

You nod quietly.

Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.

Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.

The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.

“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”

Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.

A tender kiss.

Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips

Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.

There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.

However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.

If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.

Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.

However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.

You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.

A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.

“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”

“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.

“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.

“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.

“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.

“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”

Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.

“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.

You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.

“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”

You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.

“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”

“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.

“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.

You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.

“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.

Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?

A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…

But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?

“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.

“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.

“Please….” You whimper out.

“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.

“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.

It unleashes a monster.

Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.

It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.

Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.

You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.

This however sets your soul on fire.

His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.

You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.

Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.

Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.

That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.

Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.

And now, the church is lit.

You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.

How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?

A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.

“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.

“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.

A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.

He hums a satisfied groan.

“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.

“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.

This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.

Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.

His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.

A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.

Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.

“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.

“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.

“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”

His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?

“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”

Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.

“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”

Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.

You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.

“No.” You breathe out.

“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”

His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.

“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.

The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.

Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.

Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.

Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -

Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.

Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.

Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.

With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.

“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.

“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.

And he does as you command.

Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.

You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.

“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”

You don’t deny him after that.

The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.

When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.

“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.

Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.

You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.

The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…

And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?

Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.

“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.

“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.

Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.

Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.

Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.

But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.

Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.

So your eyes open.

From between your legs, Ezra glances up.

His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.

Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.

A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.

Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.

Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.

You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.

“What- what are you?!” You sob.

Ezra hums and peers up at you.

“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”

A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.

Or perhaps it’s hell.

Maybe you have died.

You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.

As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.

You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.

The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.

So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.

Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.

The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.

The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…

You never once gave it to him this entire time.

He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.

When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.

You’re home.

Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?

“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.

He thankfully answers all your questions.

You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.

“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”

Now you’ve been resting ever since.

Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?

That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.

You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.

Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.

Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”

Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.

“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.

“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”

You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.

By twilight another knock at the door arrives.

“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.

Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.

“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”

The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.

When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.

Fear seizes your soul.

No. It couldn’t be.

This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.

“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.

Your heart rages rapidly and wild.

“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.

“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.

Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.

Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.

He exalts your name on an exhale.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.

“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.

So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.

“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.

“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”

His hand graciously cradles your cheek.

You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.

Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.

Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch

Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.

“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.

“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”

And you want him to be yours.

This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?

So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.

Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.

You too fell for the serpent.

After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.

Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.

#sorry my ex Catholic school ass jumped out in this one & I need to go bathe in holy water now holy shit #anyway me and demon Ezra love you very much #ezra x reader #demon!ezra #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) fic #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra 🤎#pedrostories

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