#and had to change it back to spruce

[ryssbelle]

Brozone reunion concepts for this little thing based on this ask

As stated in the ask idk fully how this moment would go, this concept was mostly building off the premise presented within the ask :D

Bonus:

[kumkaniudaku]

Creatures of The Night

Summary: Stack meets his match on a return trip home.

Pairing: Elias 'Stack' Moore x Black!Fem OC

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Word Count: 3,779

As much as Mississippi had changed, it was still the same. Vast rolling plains of farmland tilled by rough, Black and brown hands still carried the stench of oppression thought to be a relic of a different time. Poverty still touched communities loudly crying out for relief. Generations of families still lived in shotgun houses and small brick dwellings passed down from faces they'd only ever seen in photo frames grouped together on tiny altars as reverence for their tireless sacrifice. And, deep in the darkest parts of the city, when the sun went down and the moon illuminated deeds hidden in the light for decency's sake, a hole-in-the-wall establishment made room for all sorts of devils and demons to enjoy themselves in the dead of night. 

Beneath bright lights and a thick, impenetrable haze of sour weed smoke, Stack sat perched at the bar, sipping dark brown poison to mimic patrons around him. He hadn't had much taste for the stuff since the '30s, but it brought him comfort. The jitters of being so close to home were enough to stoke the flames of nervousness he thought he'd long relinquished to the past. He'd tried several times to go from Jackson to Clarksdale, pay his respects to loved ones lost, and disappear until the next time the supernatural pull of days past whispered for him to return. But something about the spruced-up warehouse fitted with leather couches bunched around small tables and platforms sporting chrome poles nearly touching the ceiling had a hold on him. Or rather someone.

She moved like water. Fluid and calming, capturing Stack's attention with minimal effort. Sable skin illuminated under blue neon reminded him of the young woman from the film he'd financed years back. Hip-hop was still nonsensical and watered down trash in his mind, but involvement had it's benefits – club environments, glitz, glamor, fame, fortune, and an endless supply of thick skulled idiots willing to do whatever necessary to live a life of fleeting pleasures forever. Then her. A beauty beyond compare, acting as a siren calling him to destruction on troubled seas. 

Stack's first visit to Dreams was by accident. The low rumble of bass knocking so hard against the wall he thought the doors might blow open from the force sucked him into a vortex he couldn't escape. An unexplained magnetism knocked him off his path and past a long line of patrons hoping for a few hours of illicit fun. A couple dollars, slick talk, and a kind request for entry helped him past unfriendly looking security and into a world in and of itself. And there she was. Walking through the crowd in white lace, leaving little to the imagination with a switch in her hips beguiling enough to earn his attention well into the wee hours of the morning. 

Lily is what the DJ called her from his booth alongside the stage. Fitting. In a room full of miscreants and hoodlums, she seemed like too perfect a flower for a place like this.

Night one, Stack only watched. Behind dark lenses in an even darker corner of the room, he gathered information like a student studying a master at work. Glossed lips curled into a smile, flashing bright white teeth at every man she encountered. While she spoke them into a slurring, lust-drunk stupor, they handed over wads of cash surely meant to take care of a family at home. A talker. Stack liked that. 

The second night, when he'd had some liquid courage, and the crowd was thin for a Thursday night, he noticed her already noticing him from her throne on stage. Every twirl around the pole produced an opportunity for intense eye contact lasting the full duration of her performance to Juvenille's 'Slow Motion.' As the song wound to a close, Lily left him with a wink, fluttering long lashes as her fingers wiggled a greeting in his direction. Stack never saw her again that night. But he felt her. She'd imprinted herself on his brain and all but dared him to stay in Jackson another night. 

Friday night, with nightcrawlers from far and wide filling every corner of the club, Lily and Stack made first contact. 

"Why you be in here by yourself?" Lily's down home alto came in loud over T-Pain's voice while Stack took sips of poor quality bourbon. 

A slow smile crept across his face. "Chillin'. I ain't from here." 

"You sound like you from here." When her veiled question induced little more than a chuckle, Lily tried a more forward approach. "Where you from then? You one of them rap niggas from Memphis?" 

Ever perceptive, Lily saw Stack's chains and rings the moment her suitor walked into the club earlier in the week. If he wasn't a rapper, he sold drugs. Either one worked just fine for her. Income was income, illegal or otherwise. She couldn't care less if she could put a few of his dollars into her pocket by the end of the night.

"Nah. From up the road a little bit." Stack's intentional lack of information made Lily smile as she nodded. 

No need for details. She knew less about other patrons, but that never stopped them from pouring 10s, 20s, and 50s into her g-string like water from the tap. "I can sit down?"

Lily teased a smile, hoping her charm would be enough for Stack to grant access to the castle he'd made for himself. He didn't answer with words. A half smile and a gesture toward the spot beside him was enough of an invitation. 

Sliding herself against worn leather, Lily tested the waters by scooting within an inch of his thigh. When no objection came, she deliberately caressed his knee with hers and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. 

"Where your ol' lady at?" Surely, there was a missus in the picture. 

Stack chuckled. "Your guess good as mine. Ain't seen her in a few years," he answered before taking another sip. A partial truth couldn't hurt. He knew where Mary had gone. It just hurt too much to say it. "Where your man?" 

"Your guess good as mine." Mirrored cheeky grins spread across their faces in tandem. Stack fought hard to keep the full spread of his lips at bay, hoping to conceal the true nature of his identity. Lily pretended not to take notice of the canines calling for her attention, preferring to live in the fantasy Dreams offered everyone who walked through the door. Lily scooched closer. "What's your name?" 

A name. The question caught Stack off guard. In all his travels, he had no problem proudly alerting anyone who asked that they were speaking to the last of the Smokestack twins. But here, so close to home and the fables that seemed to stick no matter the decade, too much information could crack the seal on problems kept bottled since he fled years ago. 

Stack took another sip to bide his time before setting the glass on the table and answering. "Eli. Yours?" 

"You know my name. Rico call it a hundred times every night. Much as you been in here, you had to have heard it by now." 

"So, you been keepin' tabs on me?" 

"I keep tabs on a lot of people. 'Specially the ones like you," she smiled, showing a gold framed tooth of her own. Without breaking eye contact, Lily reached for Stack's glass and pulled it closer to her side of the booth. 

He watched her with keen focus, noting how her lips parted slowly to invite a healthy sip of alcohol. Each swallow made her throat bob seductively as a subtle mating call that he couldn't leave unnoticed. A master at her craft. Stack couldn't help but admire the work, even if it was at his expense. 

When she slid the empty glass back over to him, Stack licked his lips to stop the trickle of saliva attempting to escape. "That wasn't free, baby girl." 

"Say my name right, Eli." Lily's sing-song command made Stack's stomach clench from arousal as her fingernails danced up his thigh beneath the table

He sat up straight and threw an arm over the top of the booth for stability. "That wasn't free, Lily," he corrected. "You owe me." 

"I always pay my debts. Come see me tomorrow, hm?" 

"What about tonight?" An eager inquiry, but he couldn't promise another day. Stack had to get moving. 

Lily opened her mouth to speak, preparing to offer a rebuttal, but found herself cut off by Rico from the DJ booth. 

"Y'all ready for Lily to come back to the stage?" 

Of course, they were. She was the biggest draw in town. Chatting up the secretive stranger on his third consecutive visit couldn't supersede getting to the money. 

Rolling her eyes, Lily began to exit the little corner of desire they'd built together. "Tomorrow. Come 'round three in the morning. I got something for you in the back."

"Y'all close at two," Stack countered, trying to snuff out Lily's endgame. 

"That's just what the police say. We open as long as the money comin' in." Finally free from the booth, Lily made a show of adjusting her all-white outfit and smiled. "Three o'clock. I keep my word, Eli. You just worry about gettin' here." 

Stack didn't intend to stay in Jackson, Mississippi another night. He had plans – moves to make, gravesites to visit, offerings to leave for souls long passed on. October 16th had come and gone with him shirking responsibility in the name of cheap thrills and a beautiful woman. In over 70 years, he still hadn't learned his lesson. 

At the worn-in bar, perched on a barstool with another glass of bottom-shelf bourbon in his hands, Stack watched the digital clock behind the bartender tick to the top of the hour. He didn't have much time. 'Get in and get out,' he coached himself as he adjusted the Michael Vick jersey on his shoulders and centered the Jesus piece on his chain. 

Sure enough, Dreams was still jumping with no end in sight. Stack's eyes slowly scanned the room behind his sunglasses, hoping for any sign of his target. Familiar urges tingled the base of his spine, begging for the green light to taste the focus of his desires. Turning Lily was a new development. Longing for a partner to walk alongside him in the curse known as eternal life hadn't left him since Mary's untimely demise. Lily fit the bill just right. She didn't need to continue showing herself for money. He'd take all that away and replace it with even greater riches if he could get her alone for a conversation.

As he searched high and low for his prize, a set of fingers danced up Stack's back before lips caressed the shell of his ear. "Welcome back, Eli. Follow me." 

Simple instructions and chills manifesting all over his warm skin convinced Stack to follow the long-legged beauty through the throng of thrashing bodies and past a thick velvet curtain partitioning an area reserved for more private encounters. 

Blue lights were no more. In the quiet of backrooms sparsely populated with men willing to spend a little extra dough and dancers intent on milking them for more, red lights tinted everyone's skin into a hue reminiscent of Satan in his imagined form. 

Stack tried to mind his business as Lily tugged him along to the room at the end of the hallway. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw a man's eyes roll back into his skull, mouth hung open in an unexplained trance while a young light-skinned woman whispered into his ear. There wasn't much time for Stack to make sense of what his mind had conjured. A second attempt at peering past the thick tinted glass was robbed just as Lily pulled him into their soundproof hideout. 

Low lights and black padded walls shielded the pair from outside influences trying to force their way into their fortress. Stack ran his fingers along the soft fabric, wondering just how effective it was at keeping all sorts of sounds from leaking out to the public. 

"You gon' sit down, or you came to do a dust inspection? Whatever you find, make sure you talk to Varis about all that." Lily's attempt at a joke received a cool, closed-mouth smile as Stack studied her body from head to toe. She pointed to the couch spanning the length of the room's back wall. "Sit down. It's me and you now." 

Good. The less prying eyes and intrusions, the better. 

Lily watched Stack take measured steps to the back of the room, studying the swagger in his walk and where his wallet bulged in his back pocket. Most men came with all they could spare without being caught by wives concerned about dwindling cash flow. Eli was different. Money seemed expendable to him. A real spend some and make it all back type. Perfect. 

A sure heel-to-toe strut carried Lily across the room to a decanter full of dark liquid and a pair of glasses resting on an empty bar cart. Stack watched her pour from the glass container, looking for something to comfort him in an unfamiliar predicament. He felt a rush of unexplained wind whip past his ear as a shiver manifested in his fingers. 

"Why's it so cold in here?" Stack questioned as Lily walked the drink over to him. 

She smiled but withheld her answer until she'd stopped her journey to stand between his legs. "When it's warm," she started with her arm extended to hand over his beverage. "Things get too soft. Ice cream, butter…" Once her hand was free, Lily eased her way into Stack's lap to plant her knees beside his hips. "Nipples. Dicks. You don't wanna go soft, do you, Eli? What we gon' do with that?" 

Lily's warm tongue tracing figure eights against the spot under Stack's left ear trapped a sound in his throat, leaving his body to betray his thoughts. Lily felt the quick contraction and release of his muscles, but remained committed to her task. 

"You should take a sip," Lily suggested as she switched sides to give Stack's other ear attention. "I owe you, remember?" 

Stack considered the advice, taking a slow look at the unfamiliar elixir. He'd learned a lot of lessons in all his years. Never trust a man saying 'trust me,' mind the business that pays you, and only drink the troubles you pour yourself. Lily embodied all things beautiful in the world, but wasn't that fine. A principled man was a man too difficult to manipulate. His brother taught him that. 

Stack took a second look at the glass and ultimately shook his head. "I'm good, baby. Trynna remember this one. Maybe next time." 

"Suit yourself." Her nonchalant nature almost made Stack change his mind and take a swig just for the taste. It couldn't hurt too bad. 

But, just as soon as he'd rejected her offering, Lily had pulled the cup from his hand and set it aside. 

Kisses against the throbbing vein counting each heartbeat disarmed Stack's guard and senses better than any drink or pull of cigarette ever could. A pretty face and the spark of danger were still his weaknesses. He'd battled for years to overcome the sinister draw of a woman's treasure, even going so far as to plan and follow through on a sham of a wedding in Las Vegas. He and Mary knew it wouldn't work, but it felt good. Being joined to each other by loose legal documents and cheap rings plucked from a sleazy jewelry store just before a chapel with only the spirits of loved ones there to witness their union felt right.

He wondered how Mary might feel now, knowing he'd fallen back into old habits instead of mourning her like a husband was supposed to. He'd slipped so deep into thought that he didn't register Lily's hands sliding into the front of his jeans until her fingertips grazed his shaft. 

"Can I repay you," she whispered against the scar on his neck. "You wouldn't take my drink. At least enjoy what the private room was made for." 

Stack let his heavy eyelids flutter closed and released a deep breath. "We ain't 'posed to touch back here, ain't it?" 

"I do what I want. Don't worry about the rules when you with me."

"You don't wanna turn on some music, at least? Can't be that quiet in here," Stack questioned, still trying to gauge their true level of privacy. 

Lily smiled against his neck. "Nope. Let 'em hear." 

Deft fingers and a delicate palm freed Stack's member from the confines of cotton and stiff denim, giving it room to stand proud between them. They watched together as she closed her hand around it and began to stroke. 

"Looks like the cold is helping, hm?"

"Fuck," Stack whispered into the ether. Her skin felt like fine silk enclosed around the part of him that ached for touch the most. He'd lost the battle. The only hope for redemption was to finish with his mind intact and leave Jackson, Mississippi without looking back. 

Slow kisses stole the last modicum of focus Stack had left. "You like that," Lily questioned in her seductive timbre. A murmured 'mhm' spurred her forward. "I wanna show you something else." 

Stack wished he would've asked Lily to elaborate. Maybe he would've given himself more time to prepare for her mouth to envelop him in a warm embrace. His hips jolted upward, pressing his tip to the back of her throat and receiving a soft gag as his thank you for a job well done. 

Pleasures belonging to another time flooded Stack's entire nervous system. He flew through boyhood, when fooling around with Mary was new and exciting. The audible slurp from saliva escaping the corners of Lily's lips took him back to a woman in Chicago sneaking to be with him when her husband chose to turn his attention to business and away from matters of the home. There was the time he'd snuck into the French Quarter, freshly turned and searching for a body to claim. Remembering her name would take too much of his rapidly diminishing brain power, but he'd never forget that pretty face and how she seemed to welcome his fangs sinking into her skin. Stack always wondered what happened to her and if she fared well after the turn set in. His mind tried to drift to something, anything to ward off his incoming completion, but each mental swipe through his memory's Rolodex became infiltrated by Lily as she pulled her mouth away from his lap.

"Can I tell you somethin'?" Lily's question barely registered as Stack curled his fingers against the couch. She kept her hands busy, smiling to herself while she watched his eyes roll into his skull. "I'm sort of like you. Sometimes, when I want to feel like everybody else, I pretend. It's fun, you know? Keeps me goin' until the next time somethin' excitin' happens." 

Stack felt his body struggle to come back to baseline. Every alarm bell in his head rang at once, screaming for relief. No luck. He was at her mercy, eyes still rolling as release became imminent. He groaned for help that no one would hear. 

Lily chuckled and shook her head. "I almost wish you wouldn't have come back. That's why I ignored you that first night. They still tell stories about Elijah and Elias Moore to this day, but I didn't believe 'em. Motherfuckers lie around here. Too much time on they hands." Balls tightening in her free hand while she continued to get him off signaled an approaching end as Stack attempted to will himself free of her clutches to no avail. Lily continued. "Them biblical names somethin', ain't they? Seem like the most evil people in the world named after somebody in the good book. Your brother, your old girl, you…" Lily trailed off before bringing her eyes up to meet her victim's face. "I didn't quite make the cut. Lilith still has a nice ring to it, though, right? It's memorable." 

The feeling of being watched, the magnetic pull, the men in a trance and passing out money like candy – it all came rushing back to Stack as he felt his body weaken with every quickening stroke. Succubus. Tales of their existence always sounded like more myth than tangible reality. Smoke chalked each story up to weak-minded men looking for someone to blame for their lack of focus and restraint. Stack thought it might be fun for a beautiful woman to use him as a sexual object for a night but sided with the wisdom of his older brother. He never expected to find out. But lust had won again. His fatal flaw had lured him to the edge of death once more.

Stack opened his mouth wider, trying to scream with no sound reaching the atmosphere. It wouldn't matter anyway. No one was coming. He wouldn't be saved. The witching hour had overpowered him a second time. 

"It's almost over, baby. Be good for me," Lily taunted, her eyes darkening as her once dazzling smile curled into something more sinister. 

Climax felt like a slow death. Stack prayed for something quick. An instant draining of his life force to make the misery worth it. He'd reunite with the ones who loved him on the other side. Unfortunately, natural deaths full of promise and peace no longer had a place. A second curse had been levied upon him. A forever damning to serve as the source of life for another immortal being until he served no purpose and could be discarded like waste on the highway. 

With her mouth back to work, Lily welcomed every drop of semen onto her tongue like a dog lapping for water in the hot sun. She'd been waiting for someone like Elias. Someone to provide an endless treasure trove of what lesser men provided in feeble quantities. Forever had come to her with little effort. What a gift with a beautiful host to sweeten the deal. 

When he was empty and heaving for a break, Lily relished in the slow creep of euphoria consuming her from within. Stack remained frozen, eyes wide with fear and his jaw slack. 

Nuzzling her face against his thigh like a feline does her trusted companion, Lily smiled with traces of her trophy still coating her lips. 

"Welcome back to Mississippi, Elias. Stick around this time, won't you?" 

------

No tags. Enjoy the one off! For now, at least.

[livingmybestfakelife]

Love Rollercoaster (pt. 2)

Elias “Stack” Moore x Reader

[Part 1]

“Juke Joint Briefly Owned by the Notorious SmokeStack Twins Mysteriously Burns Down — No Casualties Reported”

The headline of the Mississippi Herald is what you were expecting. As much as you didn’t want to face that reality, the club was gone. The twins and little Sammy were gone. No there weren’t any reports of any losses of life, you didn’t hear from your friends either…well friends and your back door man and secret fiancé.

During your eight month long affair, Stack had proposed to you. He took you to Miss Marlene’s restaurant in her backyard. It was a shack that was spruced up enough to look presentable enough. He payed her five dollars so that you both could dine alone and to help Miss Marlene make up lost revenue for closing the popular spot for the rest of the public for an hour. You ate, slow danced to a few songs on a record player, and he guided you to sit back down before getting down on one knee. A gorgeous oval ruby and diamond halo ring is what he promised himself to you with. You jumped into his arms and sprinkled his face with kisses, his laugh boomed through the shack at your acceptance, you made him a very happy man that evening.

Of course you could only wear it during your time with Stack. Removing your current one and placing it in your purse and he’d slide his ring on your finger every time before kissing your hand. When you were with Stack you were Mrs. Moore, everyone who were friends or respected the twins knew about your relationship and of course wouldn’t say anything, out of respect or fear, either way it was an open secret.

It was one you should’ve been ashamed of, and on occasion you were. But when Stack would make you laugh, shielded you from danger or planned an exciting outing, that guilt was bogged down. You couldn’t honestly say that you were truly in love with Donny. Sure he was a respectable man, had an honest job being a mill supervisor, and he was nice to you. But you didn’t have any chemistry with him on your end, and more often than not he bored you. He was too green for your liking, craving something more exciting than the dutiful housewife path you’re currently in. But you also liked and respected him enough to break the news to him easy for when the time came to tell him that you were filing for divorce.

It would crush him, he loved you and considered himself lucky that one of the most beautiful women in the town married him. But now those plans were over, a part of you was relieved about it, it would eat at you to break Donny’s gentle heart. Once you place the newspaper down you headed to the kitchen to get started on dinner. You planned on making some Oysters Rockefeller and roasted duck breast, something more fancy as a celebration of Donny’s mill closing on a good deal. The only issue is, you forgot to pick up some oysters today. You sigh and go to grab your purse and head to the seafood market before it closed. You managed to make it there forty five minutes before closing, considering yourself lucky for the new automobile Donny purchased you last month at making your commute quicker.

You got out of the car and walked towards the entrance, while you did so you noticed how stuffy the air felt, it being the middle of summer was most likely the excuse. But this was a different type, it didn’t feel right, it especially didn’t feel right that the shop looked empty, and once you entered you saw that it was indeed empty. That’s weird, you know for sure it would be still open, unless Mr. Harrison changed his time without you knowing, but then again why would the door still be unlocked?.

“Hello? Mr. Harrison?! Anybody here?!”

The display around the store was still halfway abundant, the oysters especially were unusually still stacked with a fresh batch. What the hell is going on this evening? Anyone would be lucky to get half a pound of oysters left around this time. Something wasn’t right here, but were you overthinking things? Maybe it was a slow day, but that would be impossible in these parts. All of a sudden you heard heavy footsteps from the back, oh good, someone was here.

“Mr. Harrison?! It’s Mrs. Warwick, I’ve come to purchase some oysters if you’re still selling”

You’re met with silence and the sudden stopping of footsteps for a moment before it picks up again, it gets closer and closer towards the front of the store. You turn and pick up a shopping bag and fill it with enough oysters for you and Donny. The steps behind you get even more closer and now it sounds like it’s finally inside the store. Once you’re done you fold up the paper bag.

“You got you a good batch today Mr. Harrison, nice and fresh….well they always are but-“

You’re shocked when you turn around to see that the man in front of you isn’t Mr. Harrison, or any of his employees, instead it’s someone you didn’t think you’d ever see again.

“Elias?!”

“It’s me ladybug”

You drop the bag without thinking and jump into his arms. He returned the hug with a squeeze and gave you a sloppy kiss, it’s as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Oh honey, I thought something happened to you, the fire-the papers said there weren’t any casualties but, there were no signs of you and the others either! What happened?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that anymore baby, what happened was just what it is”

“W-what? How can you be so nonchalant about this, you and Smoke lost your club, you didn’t even own for twenty four hours”

“I know, but some things happen for a reason”

“Um, is Smoke and everyone else alright?”

“Yes darling, they’re okay, I’m okay, and you and I are gonna be fine,

“Elias, how did the fire start?”

“Oh it just happened”

“But-“

“Hey I got good news”

“What?”

“This is ours now!”

You look around at where he gestured, you couldn’t believe it, he was smiling wide and proud, not being able to wait for your reaction.

“Well, what do you think?”

“You bought the seafood market off of Mr. Harrison?”

“I sure did baby”

“This store was his papa’s, he swore he’d never sell and keep it in his family, how’d you convince him to give it to you?”

“You know I can be very persuasive” he winks,

He was proud of himself of being able to distract you from the fire incident. That was a conversation for when you’d be able to understand the situation better. You look around and smile.

“I thought you sunk all your money into the juke joint, but here you are making other investments”

“That’s right baby, I’m coming up in the world, doing something to make you proud”

“I’ve always been proud of you honey”

You reach up and rub his cheek, which makes him lean into the comfort of your warm palm, it’s something different about him, you can feel it, his eyes seem slightly lighter than usual, but before you can question that, your mind shifts back to the store.

“This is a wonderful investment for your future”

“Our future, remember?”

He sees your face twitch and knows you’re remembering your dilemma, luckily he knows just how to help you make your decision.

“Oh right….um Elias darling I-I”

“Don’t you think you’ve made me wait long enough YN?”

“Of course, but sweetheart it isn’t that easy-“

You’re silenced by him walking towards the entrance and locking the door, the slow turn around makes you nervous. He’s upset, that much is obvious, but him not saying a word is bothering you.

“Elias I promise in due time honey”

“The time is up now ladybug, your time with him is over”

He walks closer to you and it makes you stumble back, you’ve never been scared to be around him before. You didn’t like the feeling, he’s the love of your life, why does it feel like you wish you weren’t here right now?.

“What are you talking about Elias….Elias what are you doing?”

His eyes start to glow a bright red color, then his smile, it wasn’t that sweet and lively smile you’re used to from him, his teeth, what the hell is going on with his teeth?

“Elias w-what is going on? Your eyes! Your teeth!”

“It’ll be alright bab-“

You bolt towards the back of the store, slam and lock a door. But the lock would soon prove to be useless, in a flash he was on the other side slamming against it while you tried to look for a weapon, but nothing in here would’ve taken him down.

“YN! I’m not gonna hurt you darling, I’d rather die than do that, it’ll be quick I promise!”

“ELIAS PLEASE YOU’RE SCARING ME”

“Don’t be scared baby, don’t say that to me, you love me”

You begin to cry, you’re frightened and confused, this is something you’d only seen in films at the picture houses or read in books, vampires aren’t real, they can’t be.

“I have all of these plans for our future baby doll, I can’t complete any of that without you. This is our dream remember? Mr. and Mrs. Elias Moore, you run the books and I take care of the dirty work. You remember those conversations, under the covers? In the bed that’s under the roof of our secret apartment….I’m tired of secrets, sick of you hiding my ring, you ain’t gonna hide me no more, you’re gonna make an honest man out me darling. Let me be the father of your babies, you’re gonna give me everything you promised me while I was between your legs!”

“Elias, please!”

The door finally flung open and the next thing you know, your neck was burning from the sharp prick of his fangs, your screams were muffled from an unknown force, making sure no passersby’s could hear your cries and intervene. Your moment of despair soon waned and your eyes got heavy, you were dying, your Elias was killing you. You reached up to touch his cheek, still having enough strength to attempt to move him away from you, he gently grabbed it and kissed your hand before reaching into his pocket to pull out your ring and slid it onto your finger, where it belonged permanently. Soon the world around you went dark.

———————————————————————————

{April 26 1977}

“Right this way Mr. Moore”

The younger man guided him towards the back entrance for a little more privacy. Knowing the older one who was walking alongside him would have a crowd desperate for his attention.

“May I just say that I’m a huge fan sir, I can’t believe I’m talking to THE Sammie Moore”

Sammie smiled and patted him on the shoulder at his excitement.

“I appreciate the love fella”

Once they entered they walked to an upstairs area where there were some closed doors and a couple of racks of costumes hanging. They finally reached a door at the end of the hallway and the young man had knocked on it.

“He’s here!”

The door soon opened to a familiar face, still young and as stunning as he remembered.

“Thank you Simon, please make sure everyone else have done their jobs downstairs before opening the doors”

“Yes ma’am, nice to meet you Mr. Moore, have a good set tonight”

He rushes downstairs, leaving you two in a semi awkward silence, you give him a big smile, he can see some gold grillz covering your teeth and your fangs.

“Well don’t just stand there little Sammie come on in”

You move aside and let him walk in. The office is decorated in what is currently popular in Italy. He can tell it was high quality and expensive. He looks around until his eyes land on another familiar face.

“Stack?”

“What’s happening little Sammie? My my my you ain’t so little no more ain’t ya? Done got old on your big cousin, come on over here!”

He walks over and embraces Stack. He notices his tailor made custom suit, he’s clearly earned a good living for himself.

“How?”

“I guess I was one of the ones you just couldn’t kill”

Sammie clears his throat and adjusts his guitar case on his shoulder.

“So, you own this joint huh? The highly anticipated Studio 54 that everyone in New York has been talking about?”

“Sure is, my YN and I worked our asses off to make this happen”

He reaches out for you and you walk into his arms and sit on his lap.

“We’re excited to see you perform tonight Sammie, we have all your records”

Your sweet and gentle voice tells him. You look equally as stylish as your husband. A leopard print silk dress adorns your body and flows to your ankles, but your solid gold anklet and strappy platform heels are still visible.

“Did you get the wire transfer we sent your manager?”

“I did, even he was surprised at how much the owner of this joint was willing to pay me, said that a Mr. E.M. had to be a big fan to find me this valuable”

They both chuckle and end up having a drink together. After some time passes it’s time for Sammie to perform his twenty minute opening act.

“Break a leg Sammie”

“You be good Stack”

They shake hands and you hug him and kiss his cheek.

“See you around Sam”

The grand opening was the success you knew it’d be. And to have the legendary Sammie Moore open was the icing on the cake. You and Stack enjoyed the show on a balcony on the left side of the stage, you’re sitting on Stack’s lap again, with his arm over your shoulder and your hand resting on his other leg, slightly swaying to the familiar rhythm, he kisses your neck and you smile and lean back on his chest. You can no longer remember most of what went on the night you died and was reborn, all you knew was that you were with the man you were meant to be with, publicly and proudly.

Tags: @tforpresz

[brittle-doughie]

Oh god.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had thought you escaped her.

When Hollyberry was able to help you evacuate from that paradise, you didn’t think you’d see Eternal Sugar Cookie again for a long while.

Until the Beast Cookie alarms were sounded.

Rapid reports of a winged Cookie tearing through your soldiers like they were tissue paper came to your attention. The mention of pink already clued you in as you grab for your gear.

Your platoon barely got ready before the throne room doors bursted off their hinges, your Cookies dodging out of their way! They turned back to the open door way to see a sad, miserable Cookie….

“I found you…heavenly….”

She sounded so…broken, tired. Prolonged separation from her Y/N would have that effect on her. Without changing expression, she slowly floated towards you.

You blew your whistle and your team charged at the Beast Cookie, thinking numbers gave them the advantage.

Oh, how the cards came tumbling down.

Bitter Candy having her own weapon stabbed through her.

Crowned Cupcake punched straight through the chest, her heart literally broken.

Dumpling impaled with her own chopsticks.

Cherry Cream turned into literal jam splatter on the floor when Eternal Sugar dive bombed at her.

Salsa held her own for as long as she could, but she would soon meet her end when Eternal Sugar gripped her head and SNAPPED it off, decapitating her entirely due to cookie logic.

With no one left to oppose her, Eternal Sugar…smiled….

“Don’t you get it, my heavenly? There’s no escaping the love in your heart for me. You have no one left to turn to, besides me…”

“I’d hate to do anything to you, but you’re coming back to paradise with me. I’ve especially spruced it up for you! The sanctuary now has EVERYTHING you need!”

Your only response?

Pull out your weapon and loaded your weapon, a blunderbuss.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[chlix]

superbloom

bf! chan x fem! reader: you almost ruin your own proposal

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff!

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: public proposals, y/n is a bit of a mess but its ok

a/n: this is a request from @taevhs who requested reader accidentally saying no to her own proposal out of shock and stressing chan tf out (ask is linked HERE). i am SO sorry this took so long to get to 😭😭😭 i hope it was at least semi-worth the wait

The thing is: you should’ve seen it coming.

Chan is a lot of things, but he’s not subtle. Especially when he gets really into something. He’s good at disguising the planning, at worrying in private and then clearing his face when he sees you, but you know him too well. You can sense the vibe even without him saying anything.

And anyway, you’d talked about marriage before. You’d thought about wedding planning and what time of year would be best, who would you invite. You inquired about a marriage license. You planned on getting a better apartment together. You were engaged in everything but name. So really, the proposal was imminent. It was just a matter of waiting for all his plans to come to fruition. So, you played dumb when he started paying special attention to your hands and the rings you wore most often. You didn’t start fights when you noticed him texting your best friend more than usual. You pretended not to see when you saw him researching photographers on his open laptop. You were willing to play into the surprise, and honestly, you didn’t want to pry. You wanted to be enchanted and impressed when the time came. It would make it more exciting.

You must’ve had a lapse in mentality for a second, or perhaps you just had a lot on your mind that day, because when he asked if you wanted to play hooky and go on a day trip with him, you didn’t suspect a thing.

“How spontaneous,” you’d said, delighted.

He’d only smiled. “Gotta keep you on your toes, y’know.”

You didn’t notice how the nervousness pulled at his eyes as you called in sick to work and put on a cute blue dress. He suggests a white sundress, but you decline, feeling like it’s more of a blue kind of day. You don’t notice how he doesn’t comment on the choice the way he normally does.

Your destination was a botanical garden up north, a prospect that excites you. Your Instagram needed something to spruce it up and some photos against the foliage would be perfect to introduce a vernal vibe. He leads you over to a wall of hydrangeas, and helps you rearrange your hat and jewelry so they stand out in the bright afternoon sun.

"Okay so look left, now look up, now hold out your bag." He's always good at directing you for photos, copying the same directions he's been given on his various shoots, and you've become much better at taking direction the longer you've been together. 

"Okay now look at the flowers and pretend to pick off a petal. No, reach out a little farther. Okay, hold that." You hear his voice moving as he changes angles, trying to find exactly where the best shot is. Your eyes fixate on the hydrangeas, at the vast greenish blooms that are climbing up the trellises, smelling almost sickly sweet. For a moment you worry that the pale green of them might clash with your dress, but if that was the case then at least you have dozens of other photos in different locations. No great loss. Inside the bush, you can see small insects climbing along the branches. There are a few buds deep int he recesses, too young to push their way out and bloom. All whole world beneath you, sheltering in soft petals. A home for smaller creatures.

You get so distracted by the flowers themselves you don't notice that Chan has stopped speaking.

"Did you get it?" you call out. No response. You turn to where he was standing across the way.

He's gone.

Confusion settles in. Your eyes dart back and forth. "Baby? Where'd you go?" He's nowhere. You turn completely around, towards the other end of the wall of hydrangeas, and that's where you finally find Chan.....down on one knee.

Your vision immediately tunnels. His hair is out of place, as if he's been running his hands through it. He does that when he gets nervous. Your gaze darts down to see an open ring box in one hand, the gem glittering in the bright sun, nearly blinding you just from the intensity of its presence.

"Oh my god." You can't breathe. Your heart stutters in your chest.

"Y/n," he says, looking up at you with so much tenderness and love. "these past few years with you have as beautiful and perfect as a spring day. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, and I’ve never been so glad to know anyone. I never want our time together to end. I love you more than life itself.” He takes a breath then says those four words. “Will you marry me?"

Your brain short-circuits. It’s like the sun is dimming above you, your whole body struck still. You think of the hydrangeas washing out your dress, and the sun in your eyes, and all the people around watching you flounder and struggle for something to say. You’re so shocked and excited that it’s overwhelming you- cold sweat breaks out on your brow and you lose control of your mouth entirely so instead of saying a resounding "Yes!" the word that comes out is a very quiet "No..."

Chan freezes. The smile that had been spread across his face falls, his eyes dim. 

"No?" he asks, clearly unprepared for this answer. "You don't-"

His own shock snaps you out of yours and your brain kicks back into gear. Horror overwhelms you.

"Oh my god! No, no I just- I was thinking about how I look and how everyone is looking at us right now and I should've worn that white dress you suggested to me and now I've fucked up all the photos and-"

You can't tell if you're making it worse or making it better, so you give up. You grab him by the coat, haul him up, and kiss him.

Suddenly, there's movement around you, and several people burst out from behind the hydrangea bushes that surround you. You open your eyes and see all your friends and family swarming and excited. They were watching the whole thing. They’re all wearing white. Chan invited them so they could share in this happy moment with you. The people around you in the garden clap politely and call congratulations. You look up and notice someone pointing a camera at you a distance away. Chan had the whole thing filmed.

It's a picture-perfect proposal and you'd almost ruined it.

You step back from him, and god he still looks so unsure and you hate yourself for stealing even a little of his joy.

"Yes, Chan. Yes, I'll marry you. A thousand times yes."

Relief sinks into every part of his being, and he leans in to kiss you again. And then your friends and family reach you, and it's all chaos. Your friends are shattering excitedly at you about oh my god Y/N you don't know how hard it was to keep a secret we've been planning this for ages, and the guys in your friend group are clapping Chan on the back, giving more sincere congratulations than you've heard from them in years, but all of it is white noise to you. The only person who exists to you in this moment is Chan. The adrenaline slowly ekes away, and you feel more at peace, more right than you ever have before.

Later that night, you're sitting in your apartment flipping through some zines you'd picked up from the gift shop on the south end of the garden. Chan is in the kitchen putting away leftovers, and the TV is turned on low, white noise for your quiet evening. Your new ring gleams on your finger, and you can barely focus on the botanical facts you're wearing because it keeps catching your eye and distracting you with private glee.

You feel the couch dip as he sits down, and you lean into his side. His hand comes up to wrap around you automatically.

"You scared the shit out of me today," Chan says, and his tone is light but you know he's telling the absolute truth. You wince, setting the zine down and turning to face him properly.

"I was nervous about doing a public proposal," he continues. "I know you said you were okay with it but when I saw you panic I started to worry."

"I'm sorry. I really was just surprised. My mind was in a thousand different places."

You both know you have a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. It's rare you fumble on such a serious occasion, though.

"When you said no, I think my heart dropped into my stomach."

You sigh, cursing your past self for planting any seed of doubt in his mind. "I got overwhelmed. With love for you, I swear, but I started spiraling because I was so caught off guard. I regretted not wearing the white dress you told me to wear. I'd already been thinking that my blue dress clashed with the flowers, and then I realized you were proposing and I thought I'd ruined your whole plan. I felt bad.”

Chan let out a sigh, but it wasn't a tired or exasperated sigh. Instead, it was fond.

"You could've insisted on wearing sweatpants today and it wouldn't have ruined the proposal. You look beautiful in anything. All I wanted was your answer."

"You must've known that there was no way I would've said no."

"But you did."

"Out of shock! Cut me some slack, it's not every day you get proposed to! I've never done it before! I didn't know what to do with myself!"

"I've never proposed to anyone either," Chan says. "I was sweating bullets."

"I just thought it was the heat."

"You're a menace."

"I'm your fiancée," you say, and it's the first time you've said it out loud, and it fills you with so much excitement that a smile splits your face in half all over again. "I'm going to marry you soon."

Chan's smile is a twin of yours. "You are," he says. "And you've never done that either."

"We'll figure it out," you vow. "And I'll learn to watch my mouth."

"Please do. If you don't say "I do" at the altar, I'll collapse out of cardiac arrest."

"Then I guess I better start practicing," you tease. "I, F/N L/N, do take you, Christopher Bang, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I'll repeat it in the mirror every morning."

You're joking of course. You know that when the time comes to say vows, you won't be stuttering or stumbling over the words. They're already echoing in your head over and over again. You think you might start saying them in unrelated conversations, the words bursting out of you like water from a dam. I do, I do, I do.

Chan leans over, finally relaxed, and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes and bask in the attention.

Next time you’ll wear a white dress, and you won’t flinch for a second.

[riddlemelater]

Something Lingers - T.N

masterlist | nav

⚠︎ all characters 18+ | MDNI ⚠︎

warnings: ghost!theo (no like literally, he’s a ghost…) dominant!theo, smut, p in v sex, slight spanking, mirror play/voyeurism, supernatural smut, dirty talk, use of pet names, this is depraved and I’m not even sorry.

wc: 5.8k

summary: A late night game of truth or dare leads you to the abandoned Nott Manor. A property that sits on the edge of town, and is the centre of all campfire tales and scary stories. You don’t believe in ghosts, but it seems the young— and dead— heir has plans to change that. And who could deny such physical proof?

How you’d ended up walking the corridors of Nott Manor was beyond you, be it naivety or sheer stupidity— you weren’t exactly sure. Yet, on a cool summer’s night you found yourself lugging a small overnight bag and a flashlight through a broken window, glass crunching beneath your feet.

The outer walls stood as it had, unbowed by time, and harrowingly imposing. Even despite the many years since it had been lived in, or been cared for properly. The acres around the stately home, once meticulously well-kept hedges and regal floral displays, were now overgrown and ragged. The gates which once stood tall and menacing were withered, entangled with ivy and other weeds that clung to the rusted iron bars. 

You’d swallowed down any nervous feeling hours ago. Parting ways from your friends with a final, arrogant grin as you slipped between a hole in the wire fences that caged around the property. Humming softly to yourself, you’d ignored every crunch of leaves, each root that stuck up at odd angles, and any other unsettling facts. 

After all, a dare was a dare. 

You weren’t here for the thrill so much as the satisfaction of being right, your so-called bravery to face the manors haunting past.

You were here to prove a point, that ghosts weren’t real, and that you were un-spookable. Even as your feet moved slowly across the wooden floors— eyes raking across cobwebs bigger than you’d even seen before, and furniture that cemented the building firmly in the last decade— you refused to back down, not yet. 

Truth or dare, you huffed a bitter laugh as you crept further. All to avoid answering one stupid question—you’d picked dare, and now you were here: Nott Manor, alone, with nothing but a sleeping bag and a half-dead torch.

It smelled like death, not rotting flesh—but something old, unsettled. The kind of cold that got into your teeth. The kind of feeling that came from being watched, from not being alone, crept up your spine. Slowly. Eerily.

Each room, though dark and water-damaged, still captured the extravagance of what once was. Large spruce grandfather clocks frozen in time, delicate tea sets on display in ornate vintage cabinets. Trinkets, relics, and artefacts alike all spread across counter spaces and on pedestals dotted around tastefully. 

You’d barely wandered through one of the four wings, and already seen so much wealth you didn’t know how to react. Even without the rumours, the ghost stories that teenagers told around campfires in the safety of numbers, anyone would be certain that this house was haunted. 

Unless, of course, someone were to ask you. A sceptic, a nonbeliever. Granted, you preferred the term scientific— or simply, not an idiot. But alas, you couldn’t be picky. Not when the perfect opportunity, a chance to squash so many rumours and tall tales, fell so haphazardly into your lap. 

And so you crept forth, swinging the flashlight in your hand around with a lazy flick of the wrist, ogling at different objects that caught your eye. The dare was simple: spend one night from dusk till dawn, alone in the apparently haunted Manor. 

Almost immediately, your friends had all leered at the dare, some shaking their heads and others nervously looking between you and the friend like it was all some joke. And it was, to you at least. You’d said as much as you nodded and accepted the challenge without a second thought, certain that now was your chance to prove yourself once and for all. 

Because you weren’t a little girl afraid of the dark anymore; you rationalised everything. That voice you heard home alone? A neighbour muffled through the wall. Footsteps in the hallways of your empty home? Just the house settling. Pipes expand and contract with temperature changes. Mice nest this time of year. Anything to explain whatever you might — or in your case, might not — be experiencing.

Ghosts weren’t real. And monsters, well, monsters were much scarier than things that went bump in the night; they were human. Solid. Worse. 

There wasn’t much to find on the Nott family, and believe me, you’d looked. For over a week, you’d combed through endless registers, deed polls, and anything that connected back to the Nott lineage, yet nothing tangible ever presented itself. Only that they were aristocrats, filthy rich and draped in more wealth than one family could ever need.

The only real lead came from those ghost stories you’d heard as a child; that the Lady of the Manor had died under mysterious and tragic circumstances, leaving behind a single, young heir. 

There were conflicting tales surrounding her death, for one you’d heard she’d fallen gravely sick whilst her son was still only a young boy, and, tragically, succumbed to her illness shortly after. 

Yet the most popular, one that fueled the majority of stories you’d heard, was that she had been murdered. Her life drastically cut short in a brutal, sadistic attack at the hands of her husband. The perfect campfire tale for Girl Scouts, and teenagers having their first sips of alcohol in the woods. 

The low sound of rustling startled you, your head whipping around to stare back down the corridor you’d just come from. The flashlight in your hand scanned the hallway methodically, left to right, slow and steady, yet nothing appeared out of place. Only one set of footsteps disturbed the dust which lay thickly across the floors, and they were yours. 

Suspicion flooded your expression, embedded in your eyebrows as you peered into the dark. Part of you wanted to call out, in case you’d disturbed squatters or someone who’d slipped in to get off the streets— the last thing you needed was to run into a group of total strangers, that was far scarier than any ghost story.

The rustling sounded again, almost like the scraping of claws against wood. You inhaled sharply, tilting the flashlight upward, sweeping it across the cracked ceiling above you. The way your heart rate skipped higher felt silly when you spotted the sound’s source. Two pigeons, rammed into the far corner, clearly having nestled their way into the ceiling joints for a nap when disturbed by your light. 

They cooed loudly and flapped as the beam of light locked onto them, wings brushing against wallpaper that hung limply where it had unstuck. You startled and immediately aimed the light downwards, letting out a swift apology under your breath to the poor creatures. You’d be pissed too if someone shone a light into your face while you slept. 

Aware of the way your heart began to beat faster you shook your head and carried on, admiring the vast staircase which faced the main doors. They looked to be made of expensive wood. A dark burgundy, almost black, sort of shade. You could almost imagine it, how grand it looked back when the home was functional — even with all the dents and chips that littered them now. 

A runner trailed the middle section of the floorboards, bolted firmly in place by rails that lined the inner base of each step. And though it was filthy, stained in some places, you could make out a deep red tinge to the fabric, littered with swirling flowers that danced up the staircase. 

The air grew staler, that telltale damp scent that felt like inhaling a cool breeze flooded your nostrils. Mixing with the cold night air that blew through broken glass windows in the upper floors. As you walked further into the heart of the manor, each stair groaned under your weight, forcing you to slow down to test each step tentatively. 

Your thoughts halted when you reached the first landing. The stairs parted, splitting off into two different wings of the home, but your attention was grasped not by the extravagance of the Manor, but instead by a portrait that hung proudly in the centre of the split.

Even from a distance, it was so large you could identify each tiny brush stroke and fleck of paint. From the detailing in the woman’s long curly hair, to the cold, dead glare that pierced through the man’s eyes.

Like the painting observed you, just as you observed it. 

Grimacing, you traced over the expensive gold-embossed cane which the man held in one hand, clutched tightly within his whitening knuckles. His expression was severe, emotionless almost, even as his other hand rested on the shoulder of a young boy, no older than five or six. The boy looked very like the woman, his eyes an even brighter shade of blue than hers, yet the look in them mimicked that of his father.

Stern, proper, cold. 

Focused on the child you stepped closer, reaching out slowly to brush along the base of the frame, where you hoped a name plaque, or, at the very least, a date might be engraved. You suspected that this must be the Lord and Lady of the Manor along with their young son. Tugging your sleeve down over your fingers you brushed along the underside of the ornate frame, revealing a small, golden plaque which lay at the centre. 

Mr & Mrs T. Nott 

Theodore Nott Jr 

August 1985 

Your lips parted in a quiet ‘oh’, eyes flickering across the family portrait in awe. And though you didn’t move, and neither did he, the boy’s eyes felt just a little too direct. Like he was watching you. Not the painter, but you. 

Faintly that familiar rustling you’d come to recognise sounded from left, your flashlight once more snapping towards the ceiling. Your eyes widened as you squinted, the beams and roof tiles hanging as though a blast had erupted in the attic, moss dangling from the open roof.

For a moment you just stared, taking in the exposed beams and rotting wood that bowed and splintered at unnatural angles. You’d always been intrigued as to why old buildings seemed to crumble the moment they weren’t in use. But now as you looked, you only prayed it would stay intact long enough for you to complete your dare and get out of here. 

With the left wing collapsing, you had no option but to head right, though now even more carefully than before. The last thing you needed was to fall through the floorboards. ‘Ghosts’ were one thing; but a broken leg was something you were aiming to avoid all together.

You hummed under your breath, taking a few cautious steps over a particularly weak looking spot of the staircase. When the wood held, you sent a silent thank-you to whatever force hadn’t let you plummet.

Stepping onto the landing, it became evident that this area had been the family’s private quarters. The temperature dropped unnaturally as you passed the first sitting room, whose doors lay open and wide. You paused, rubbing your arms. It was the kind of cold that made your teeth want to chatter and your instincts go quiet. You shrugged it off fairly quickly, and shone your torch into another room. 

As you walked, you noticed each room was still furnished, filled with vintage couches and a surprising amount of intact marble statues. The statues were unlike any you’d seen before— where you were used to white marble carving out the curves and chiselled outlines of greek bodies— stood ornate figures cloaked in sweeping clothing that reminded you of a dress. 

Their faces, though gathering dust and dirt, were carved in stern expressions, with long beards and chiselled brows which reminded you of the painting in the landing. Each bust rested on their own podium, surrounded by depictions of golden serpents curling and circling around their feet. The Nott’s really had a thing for snakes, it seemed. 

As you stepped further into the corridor you were drawn to one door in particular, grand looking and in the same dark wood the staircase was built from. Resting in the centre of the door, just level with your eyes, lay a cast iron snake shaped door knocker, that glimmered even despite the years it had gone without being polished. Carefully you reached for the knocker, lifting it once and letting it bang against the door with an echoing thud.

Glancing up and down the corridor, you marvelled at the echo which stretched to all ends of the manor, the silence momentarily disrupted by the collision. In the distance wings fluttered again, the sound of feathers slicing through the air lasted only a few seconds, like the thud had scared them from their hiding spots. 

Your interest piqued as the manor fell silent once more. Nudging the heavy door open, it revealed a strangely well-kept desk at the center of the room, seemingly untouched by the decay that had spread through the rest of the house.

The large glass window remained intact, and moonlight poured through, casting pale beams across shelves upon shelves of heavy tomes. Each was bound in glossy black leather, their spines etched with gold-embossed lettering that shimmered faintly in the dark, and slithered down each spine. 

‘Magick Moste Evile - Godelot’

‘Dark Theory: Blood Magic and the Limitation of Light - Vesper H. Thrane’

‘The Decline of Purity: On the Erosion of Noble Bloodlines - Isolde Quell’ 

Brows furrowing, you squinted at the titles, lifting your torch for a closer look. None of them resembled anything you'd ever read. ‘Godelot’ didn’t even sound like a real name, and the others seemed to be hundreds of years old, which you supposed explained their odd contents.

Maybe Mr Nott Sr had been one of those eccentric aristocrats—hoarding grim histories like trophies. Fascinated with occult and mystical.

You traced the shelves with light fingers, eyes skimming spine after spine, quietly committing the titles to memory. You’d rattle them off to your friends later—let them gasp, roll their eyes, lean in closer.

Part of you had always laughed at the stories. Dark magic, voodoo, the Notts as accused warlocks and witches. Urban legends, exaggerated at every bonfire and sleepover. But standing here, dust thick in the air and the hush pressing close—you weren’t laughing. You were starting to wonder what secrets the Nott family had hidden in these walls, because you knew there was something dark.

Clearing your throat, you turned the flashlight against the walls, sweeping slowly behind you. Another painting made you gasp. The same stern-faced gentleman from the landing, now seated on an ornate chair. At his feet, a boy—Nott Jr, it seemed—kneeling, blank-eyed, gaze fixed on the painter. The same, thin cane rested beside the man’s chair, gold detailing gleaming against the fabric of his suit.

Just like the painting on the landing, the boy’s eyes seemed to follow you—sharp, unblinking, inescapable.

Shuddering you scanned the desk, stopping briefly on the open pages of another tome. 

“Huh…” you mumbled, squinting down at the thin parchment.

The pages, though worn and fraying at the edges, had no traces of dust settling. Almost like it had only recently been opened, tentatively you glanced over your shoulder. Searching the room for the signs that someone, other than you, had been here. 

When, as expected, you found none, your gaze locked back onto the desk. Fingers reaching out to lightly skim across the surface of the pages, your confusion deepened, finding the open pages pristine. Grasping the spines you flipped it shut to peer at the front cover. 

‘The Language of the Departed: A Guide to Communion with Wandering Spirits’

You blinked, then snorted. Of course it was a book about ghosts.

“Subtle,” you muttered, dragging a finger across the spotless spine. “Really pulling out all the stops.” 

It had to be a coincidence. Just a particularly on-the-nose book left open by the last person to step foot in these corridors, probably an attempt at humour— or to scare the wits out of lesser folk. 

You lingered a moment longer, eyeing the room’s quiet stillness, before backing out with a final glance over your shoulder. The corridor swallowed you up again, door clicking shut behind.

The hallway was no less eerie.

Paintings lined the walls like sentriesp—brooding men who resembled Nott Sr, knights in tarnished armour frozen mid-lunge, a dinner party captured mid-toast, every guest staring directly outward as if waiting for your eyes to meet theirs.

One canvas, perhaps the most disturbing, showed men and women writhing in agony, serpents coiled tight around their limbs, scales slick with blood. Beneath it, a simple plaque read: The Brazen Serpent.

Your face twisted in discomfort. 

Where the walls stood bare, there were plinths instead—dark pine, velvet cushions cradling strange offerings: a snuffbox, a length of snake skin, a scattering of tiny yellow bones. Little oddities.

You tried not to look for too long.

When you reached the end of the corridor, it bent and you turned with it. Feet cushioned by the soft runner, you slowed once more. Trying not to flinch as the paintings appeared to watch your progress with varnished glares. 

You didn’t mean to open the door. It had simply… given way beneath your hand. Like you’d been drawn to it, like you had the study. The room inside was dim, lit only by the slotted spill of moonlight pressing through the slats, and the dull beam of your torch. Dust particles floated past your vision, settling into the furniture as you stilled. 

It wasn’t like the other rooms— this one hadn’t been curated. It didn’t have that kind of feel to it. A single armchair sat crooked near the fireplace, and books were stacked haphazardly along the floorboards. The desk in the corner was overflowing with expensive looking tomes too, lined up neatly like they were regularly organised. Your brows furrowed again, the lingering smell of damp parchment and ash catching your attention. 

Out of all the rooms you’d stumbled through, this one looked like your best option for the night. With no creepy paintings, and no odd decor to unsettle you. And so wearily, you wandered over to the armchair, tossing your bag onto the floor and collapsing into it unceremoniously.

It groaned softly under your weight when you sat. One of the legs wobbled. You steadied it with a foot and angled your torch upward, scanning roof lazily. For once, there were no creepy paintings with eyes that followed your every move, or unnerving trinkets that decorated every surface. The books, still oddly titled and revolving around magic, weren’t menacing or unsettling, and for that you were thankful. 

Setting the flashlight down on the chair, your fingers grasped the fabric of your bag. The zipper was cold against your skin, and you hummed softly, dragging the sleeping bag out from inside. You’d just settled into the chair, draped in the nylon material, when the floorboards outside creaked.

You froze. Brain scrambling to rationalise the noise. There was no breeze. No rattling windows. No shifting pipes. Mice, perhaps? A rat?

Another step. Closer. And this time, the unmistakable scuff of a shoe against warped wood disproved your assertion.

Very slowly, you turned your head.

You paled when you saw him.

A figure stood in the doorway, draped in shadow, half-illuminated by the thin slash of moonlight. Tall, lean. Dishevelled. Like he’d stepped through the wall itself. His expression was unreadable—watchful, dark eyes fixed on you, one hand curled loosely at his side, the other pressed to the doorframe lazily.

For a second, neither of you spoke. Then he tilted his head. A subtle, silent assessment.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, voice low and unfamiliar. Rough like smoke. You blinked, surveying the figure with a nervous glance.

Instinctively, you stood, heart leaping to your throat, sleeping bag pooling at your feet. “Neither are you.”

A pause. Something passed between you. And for a moment, you felt a flicker of recognition, like he was familiar, yet you couldn’t quite place him.

Your eyes trailed across his clothes— dark slacks, his sleeves rolled and tight around his elbows, collar loose around his throat. Nothing like what you’d expect someone to be wearing, at least, not in a half derelict building. 

As if reading your thoughts, the corner of his mouth curled faintly.

“Touché, love.” His voice dipped further on the last word. Like it tasted good on his tongue. 

A chill ran up your spine. Something about him was deeply wrong, and even more so, deeply familiar. But no matter how much your eyes raked over him, how hard you blinked and squinted, you couldn’t figure it out. Couldn't rationalise. 

You swallowed hard, and your fingers itched at your sides, unsure whether to reach for the flashlight or leave everything and take your chances. 

He stepped forward. Not rushed, not threatening, but deliberate. 

With every inch he closed between you, the air in the room thickened. Not cold now—but heavy. Dense with something old. Something electric. The hair on your arms rose as he came to stand directly before you.

Up close, you could see how beautiful he was. Unnervingly so. The kind of beauty that pulled you under before you realised you were drowning. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. That slow, unbearable gaze that felt as though he was undressing you with his eyes. 

You could feel his breath against your skin, cold enough that your head tilted and your eyes narrowed. And Gods, his eyes. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue you’d ever seen, piercing and stormy. Like a siren luring men to the edge.

Familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” you said slowly, like you were trying to convince yourself. “I’ve seen you before.” 

He stared at you, amused almost, and nodded like the answer was painfully obvious. When you didn’t reply, his eyebrows lifted curiously. 

“I should hope so, love,” he smirked, “You’re in my bedroom, after all.” 

The confusion must've been evident on your face, the way you’d glanced away for just a second towards the bedframe, like the answers lay in the dusty sheets. 

“Theodore,” he murmured, and your blood ran cold. “Though, I do much prefer Theo.” 

Your head shook vehemently, “But that’d make you—” you paused, trailing off as the connection finally clicked. 

His eyes, that familiar stare. Theodore Nott Jr. That was where you had seen him before.

You swallowed shakily, staring up at him like he might disappear if you blinked hard enough. Part of you hoped he would.

He laughed, a dry chuckle that made your stomach burn, not with fear but with something else. His hand lifted slowly, and your breath caught as two fingers brushed a lock of hair from your face. His touch wasn’t cold. It was warm—solid. Real. His fingers lingered near your jaw, then traced down the column of your throat, featherlight.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “Is it me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. 

“But you’re… you’re—” You stammered, unable to think clearly or take your mind off the young man standing in front of you. 

“I’m what?” he murmured, fingers still brushing against your throat, “d-d-dead?” He fake stammered, head tilting mockingly. 

You backed away slowly, hand reaching out to steady yourself against the armchair. Theo watched curiously, like he’d expected your reaction. 

“Ah come on now, love. Don’t tell me you don’t believe in ghosts?” he mocked, grinning with a smile that should be criminal. “We’re very real, I assure you.” 

You blinked, swallowing hard. “You’re telling me, you’re a ghost?”

The word felt wrong in your mouth, your rational side screamed for you to come to your senses. Part of you begged for it, for you to grab your bag and run. It implored you to not stop running until you'dslipped back through the hole in the fence. 

But that other side of you, that curious part you’d been unable to tame, kept your feet cemented to the rotting floorboards. 

He only shrugged, eyes glinting. “Yeah. Dead as a doornail.” He flourished with a sardonic smile.

Some part of your brain seemed to kick into action, eyebrows furrowed, “But you touched me, I felt it… How could you, I mean, if you’re… you know?” 

Theo stepped closer once more, caging you in between himself and the chair. His hand slipped up your arm, lips twisting into a smile once more. And this time, you didn’t back away. 

“You know,” he said, lips curving into that wicked grin, “being dead doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel very much alive.”

Your breath hitched. The weight of his presence pressed in and temporarily you forgot the Manor; the eerie paintings and peculiar decorations. Even the dust that fluttered with every step you took. 

“I shouldn’t be able to feel you,” you whispered, but it wasn’t a protest. Just morbid fascination. “You’re not real.”

Theo’s smile curled, smug and slow. Like he’d been waiting for those words. “You shouldn’t be able to see me either, sweetheart, but you can.” 

A silence settled over the two of you, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Tracing the slope of his nose, flickering over his eyes which pierced through you, the real thing a hundred times worse than a painting.

That, and, you couldn’t stop the feeling that stirred deep in your stomach. 

He leaned in first, not all the way. Just close enough that his lips hovered above yours, close enough that you could feel how the temperature dropped with every breath. 

That he could tempt you.

But his mouth didn’t feel cold. Not when you closed the distance and it brushed yours, tentative and testing. The kiss felt strange, weightless almost, like you were kissing something that shouldn’t be solid. And yet, it was. He was. 

When you gasped, he took it as an invitation.

Theo’s hand slid into your hair, and he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. Not rushed. Not rough. But hungry. Starved, almost. Like this was the first time in decades he’d tasted something alive.

And god help you—you let him.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and you froze, half delirious like you’d dreamed the whole thing. Theo made a noise as you pulled away, eyes flickering towards the door cautiously. 

“Don’t mind them,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “They won’t mind.” His hand brushed the hair from your throat, lips pressing against the skin that connected your neck and shoulder. 

His teeth sunk in, just enough, and a moan tore from your lips. You could feel him smirk against you. 

“They never do,” he finished, voice low and indulgent, like he was savouring your reaction.

You should’ve pushed him away. Demanded answers. But your thoughts were muddled, heavy, trapped between instinct and desire. It was like you were drawn to him, by some invisible force that you couldn’t control.

His mouth was warm and hungry, trailing the line of your throat as his hands slid down your waist—tangible, impossible. Yet deliciously firm. 

“I shouldn’t want this,” you whispered, breath shaky, but you tilted your head anyway, baring more of your throat to him. “You’re not even—”

“Real?” he finished, quoting you from earlier, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His smile was maddening. “And yet, you’re still trembling for me.”

You didn’t deny it.

His hands trailed lower, curling at your hips before guiding you backward, slowly, toward the bed. It groaned under your weight when the backs of your knees hit the edge, and still, he didn’t stop watching you. His head tilted slightly, as though studying something long lost and newly found.

“Lie back for me,” he murmured. “There’s a good girl.”

When you hesitated, eyes darting to the cracked mirror hanging lopsided on the wall beside the bed, he followed your gaze. And smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dark with mischief. “That one’s my favourite.”

He didn’t need to explain. You knew exactly what he meant—because when you looked back at the mirror, you saw only yourself. Alone. Dishevelled. Lips swollen, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

He had no reflection but you could feel him—his weight pressing you into the mattress, the slow trail of his hand beneath your shirt, the heat between your legs building as his thigh slid between yours. Ghost or not, every part of him felt real. Too real.

And you realised something else as your reflection shifted, back arching in the dim light, hair splayed against the pillows. You liked watching.

Theo’s lips ghosted over your collarbone, slow and deliberate. “That’s it,” he purred. “Look at yourself, sweetheart. Look how wrecked you are for me—and I’ve barely touched you.” 

You whimpered, staring at the mirror as your breath caught. Watching intensely as he touched your body.

Your reflection was a mess. Your shirt askew, lips parted, cheeks flushed red with want. But the space between your thighs, the space you knew Theo occupied was empty. 

You could feel him, he was right there. His hands skimming along your thighs, breath cool against your neck, his voice like honey and grit simultaneously. But the mirror showed nothing. Just you, writhing like you’d imagined the whole thing. 

It made you dizzy with lust.

Flickering your gaze back to him, you moaned at the sight, his eyes fixed darkly on your expression like he knew how wrecked you were. How torn you felt, that you could see him with your own two eyes, yet a glance to the side and he was gone. 

“Look at you,” he purred, voice low by your ear. “So eager to be fucked by something you don’t even believe in.” He tsked. 

Even as your lips parted, no sound came. You could barely speak with how his fingers were dragging up your inner thigh—slow, almost reverent. But still nothing in the glass. Just your own trembling, aroused body. Wide eyes staring back at you. 

He exhaled a laugh, then his smirk returned. His fingers tore away from your thigh, and you whined at the loss of contact. 

“May I?” he asked, though his hands had already fumbled with the button on your jeans. You nodded wordlessly, raising your hips for him to drag them from your body. 

A moment later he groaned, voice ruined as his eyes fixed on your underwear. A finger teasing at the delicate lace that curved around the apex of your thighs. He looked like he wanted to devour you. And in some twisted, shamefully, needy part of your brain— you wanted him to.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was moving again, dragging his hands down your hips, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. Just enough to expose the curve of your ass to him.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he muttered, reverent and ragged all at once. 

You gave a breathless laugh, cheek pressed to the sheets, still watching in the mirror breathlessly.

Smack.

You yelped—loud, sharp, startled. Your body jolted up toward him, the sting blooming sweet and hot across your skin. And then, you saw it.

In the mirror, clear as day: the red outline of a hand, burning across your ass. No body. No Theo. Just you.

You, gasping. You, wide-eyed. And a mark that shouldn’t be there.

“Oh my god—,” You mewled, hips canting up against him. His lips returned to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin with fervour. 

You whimpered, and Theo groaned above you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along your throat. “Don’t look away. You wanted proof, didn’t you?”

You nodded mutely, too stunned, too soaked with want. And Theo was all too willing to give you what you begged for. 

“Clever girl,” he praised as your fingers instinctively reached for his belt, undoing his slacks quickly. “So needy, aren’t you?” 

His words went straight to your core, that familiar sensation building in your stomach. Like a knot pulled, taught and ready to snap. You whimpered again, tearing your vision from the mirror and capturing his lips in a messy kiss. 

“Theo,” you urged, your voice nothing more than a breath against his mouth, “Please.”

He groaned like the sound of his name on your lips hurt and healed him all at once. His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, to bare your throat once more as he pressed you deeper into the mattress.

His hand slid down, pushing your underwear to the side with almost reverent care. And finally, he was there. The blunt head of his cock dragging through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

“You feel that?” he whispered, voice thick and low. You could only nod feebly, fingers grasping at him, tugging him closer. 

His smirk made you cling tighter.

He pushed in—slow and devastatingly deep. Your body arched, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The stretch was perfect, grounding and unreal all at once. He moved with purpose, hips rolling forward as though he had all the time in the world to ruin you.

In the mirror, you looked possessed. Hair tangled, cheeks flushed, your body rocking in time with something invisible. The way your hands fisted in his shirt, the way your mouth fell open—desperate, ruined, wrecked.

His voice was ragged at your shoulder, “Feels real now, doesn’t it?” 

Theo’s grip tightened on your waist as he fucked into you, lazy but firm, each stroke deliberate. He pressed his forehead to yours, breath shallow, like he was drinking you in.

You were too far gone to make sense of it. All you could do was moan his name again, hands scrambling to anchor yourself against something—anything—as he picked up pace, the bed creaking beneath you like it might split in two.

Your eyes flicked to the mirror again.

You watched your own body—rocking, quivering—watched the way your thighs trembled with each thrust. And above you, still nothing. Still no one.

Except the handprint. Still fresh. Still red.

Theo reached between you then, fingers circling your clit with maddening precision, dragging tight spirals until your legs shook.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, voice a low rasp against your ear. “Come for me. Show me.”

And you did.

With a strangled cry, you shattered—hips jerking, mouth falling open as you rode the high of your orgasm. In the mirror, your back arched like you were being pulled by strings, head thrown back, hair wild and sweat-slicked. You watched yourself come undone. Watched the air where he should be.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, you should feel ashamed, but all you could focus on was the feeling of him. Buried deep inside you and groaning quietly.

Theo moaned loudly, hands digging into your hips as he followed you over the edge with a shudder and a deep sound that tore from his throat. Gutteral and spent. 

He sighed loudly, falling into the crook of your neck, still inside, and mumbling incoherent words of praise.

Silence fell once more, only the sound of ragged breathing and Theo’s murmurs filled the space. Your head fell to the side, and in the mirror you were still alone. 

But the handprint remained. 

©️riddlemelater. 2025.

I’m terrified to post this here, Shwing and Bug are responsible for encouraging such depravity🫠 understood? fantastic! I’m going into hiding now to think abt ghost!theo my actions.

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 11.5K word count. toji zenin, married toji, wedding, honeymoon, deflowering, main character is a virgin/celibate, third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, sweet sex, rough + maybe a lil angry sex, lot of sweet talking, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, lil bit of sweet toji, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 ; 𝑟𝑖ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ idk why i’ve been craving the thought of marriage lately, or maybe just a wedding in general. i just love people in love. enjoy :) 💐

EVERYTHING WAS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN SHE EVER IMAGINED. Blooming red roses cascaded all around, gold trim wrapping around the flowers. Platters of gold chandeliers filled the brim of the backdrop, soft emerald leaves whisking beneath the baby breath’s. The delicate ivory plants represented sincerity, purity, love.

She stood across from the man she was deadly in love with. His large palm squeezed firmly around her small one, eyes falling to the tattooed rosary that crawled around his fingers, dark crucifix slanting over the veins flexing with each movement he made.

It was every woman’s vision, being able to perfectly create their dream wedding. Her heart was completely filled with love. Her entire family stood in the crowd of people, dark wardrobe to match the wants of her catholic-wedding. Just like a man completely head over heels, she had it her way, no matter what cost.

Toji stared over the woman he was about to marry. Her soft almond shaped eyes that slanted when she smiled, brown irises he could drown in anytime he looked into them. Her dark hair was in a low bun, pulled back to showcase a strident face. Edges curled and styled along her forehead to perfection as it was halfway covered by her large veil. The alabaster lace cascaded all the way out into the bottom step of the stage, showcasing the virgin-mary within the custom design.

Her tawny-brown skin complimented the gold encrusted nose ring, plump bratz-doll lips shining. Her honey freckles spruced all along her nose, traveling out to her cheeks and face, even with makeup. Low eyes were covered by fluffy lash extensions. He loved her with or without her makeup, never seeing another woman more beautiful than her. She was erotically pure to him, completely condescending thoughts, he knew. But that’s exactly how he envisioned her. The corset of her dress clung to her frame, a low dip within the front of the dress that swirls between the heart of her chest, sinking down at the right side of her hip. The construction at the top modestly covered her breast, hugging all around her waist, striking out to the sinful poke of her hips and ass that drips white pearls and gold Swarovski crystals.

She fell out of her trance again, locking her eyes back with the scarily dark steel grey of his pupils. Yet nothing scared her about him—at least, now. When she had first met this man, he was the complete opposite of who stood in front of her. A womanizer, a gambler, all of the worse things a person could think of—an asshole. But Selaphiel was a force to be reckoned with. Her feisty nature and unwavering determination—especially her ‘not for the fuck-shit’ attitude—had inspired Toji to change for the better. He was now a loyal and dedicated fiancée, a far cry from his womanizing and gambling days.

Toji grinned, his grip on her hand tightening. He had never been so happy in his life, not until he met Selaphiel. Her eyes shimmered like the stars, and she had a beauty that could only take one’s breath away. The way her fingers interlocked with his own, the way her lips curled into a smile when she saw him… he knew he was completely enraptured with her. She played no games with him, letting him know from the jump that she had a faithful promise to god, keeping her body for the man she planned to marry. She just didn’t expect that man to be him.

Selaphiel, a name of one of the seven archangels, had grown up in a religious home. It didn’t make her entirely a Bible thumper, having her explorative escapades in college— her parents pulling their hair out at the thought. But as she was now twenty-eight, working towards her doctorate in orthodontics, she wanted nothing more but someone to call her own. Toji was her home if she didn’t have anyone else.

She’d met him while doing her studies in medical school, learning that he was also going for his doctorates to be a Pathologist—studying fluids, tissues, or organs taken from the body after death. He was completely successful within his career, but his personal life was different. She had essentially tied all of his loose ends—she couldn’t disagree that he hadn’t done the same.

But as the pastor strung his voice out to the crowd, Selaphiel’s hand slightly went limp within Toji’s palm, realizing there was something she was afraid of when it came to him. It sounded stupid. Hell, maybe even childish. With her celibacy, it was hard at times to keep from breaking her promise, Toji not only a man, but an experienced one within the bedroom. She could see in that shit-eating grin that he knew could have her at the palm of his hand. She melted by even just a soft kiss on the neck, fingers slamming upon her ass when she walked past him, to the erotic words that fell from his lips.

Yet, Toji respected and valued Selaphiel’s decision to remain celibate until marriage, recognizing it as a personal choice. He had no desire to pressure or rush her into anything. Their relationship focused on building a strong emotional connection, based on trust and respect. But Toji being the man he was, his deep appetite for her had grown stridently in his stomach, animalistic and ready to catch his prey.

“You may kiss your bride,” the pastor then says.

Sela squeals softly as Toji pulls her forward, nearly raising her off of the ground as he pulls her into a deep kiss, tonguing her down irregardless of who watched. Her face goes red as everyone around cheers.

His groomsmen let out a deep howl, her bridesmaids clapping and gleefully smiling, seeing as Selaphiel laughs happily, trying to hold back the sob of joy she wants to let out. She almost breaks as she raises her thumb to Toji’s face, briefly wiping the tear that nearly falls. She knows he’d rather die than show his emotion, her heart swelling as she felt his emotions radiating off of him.

The reception had finally arrived, everyone seated in their assigned chairs, being assisted by the waiters and waitresses that serve the five course meal they have to offer. The first and second course varied from baby kale salad with cherry tomatoes drizzled with honey and avocado dressing, or garden salad with raspberry vinaigrette. The entrées contained Filet Mignon or stuffed chicken breast with pesto cream, desert being vanilla and dark chocolate cake with almond buttercream.

Everyone enjoyed their meals, watching in the middle of the empty floor as the couple stood there for their first dance. Selaphiel’s arms wrapped around his neck, Toji’s palms laid along her hips as she leaned her face against his chest to hear his heartbeat, the both of them sinking into each other as they swayed softly as Godspeed by Frank Ocean plays. She was glad that everyone was enjoying themselves, but she felt herself slowly just wanting to be alone with him.

She mutters to him, “My social battery is running out.”

Toji’s deep chuckle rumbled against her cheek upon hearing Sela’s comment. He knew how much she valued her alone time. He lowered his head slightly so that he could speak softly in her ear “I understand, baby," he replied affectionately, “How about we step out for some fresh air? You deserve some time to recharge. Get away from our hectic ass families.”

The thought of now being alone with him scared her. She knew at times that he almost lost himself, wanting to have his way with her devilishly. She felt with them officially being married, that urge was now pushed to a thousand.

She shakes her head briefly as she says, “It’s okay. This feels nice. This dress is also tight as hell,” she sighs out.

Toji noticed the slight change in Selaphiel’s demeanor and the hint of fear in her eyes. He knew everything about her. He held her closer, his grip firm yet gentle as they continued to sway to the music.

"You look fuckin’ stunning," Toji rasped, his lips brushing against her ear. "This dress was made to turn heads, damn near makes me wanna break a motherfuckers neck for you. I'll find a way to get you out of this dress as soon as possible if you’re uncomfortable in it.”

She ignores the way her heart drops to her ass at the mention of him, ‘getting her out of the dress.’ She nods her head, raising her eyes up to meet him as she sweetly asks “You love me?” knowing it was a dumb question.

Toji tilted his head, his gaze meeting Selaphiel. A small chuckle escaped his lips before he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing the soft skin.

"Love is too small of a word for what I feel for you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are the air that fills my lungs, the very essence of my existence. There are not enough words in the world to describe my love for you."

“Corny ass.”

“You liked that shit, didn’t you? That was good,” he smirks, bringing his palms down to her ass, groaning lightly as he squeezes the flesh. Selaphiel giggles as he raises her up to where her heels sit atop of his shoes, playfully spinning her around.

They both separated from one another as Toji sat at the table with his groomsmen, it being a long time since they were all together in one room. Some of them already had families, built businesses or worked their way through school. It felt nice to be around his friends considering his actual family wasn’t at his wedding.

“Tell us how long you’ve been holding out for Selaphiel,” one of them asks, holding his beer as he takes a swig of it, the other groomsmen chuckling, patting the shoulder of their nosey friend.

“C’mon man, we’re your bros. You can tell us if you’ve been getting some pussy on the side,” another one says on the other side of the table.

“Nah. Sela got his ass wrapped around her pinky finger, holding on tight!”

“Shitt, damn near the whole hand!”

The entire table uproars in laughter, Toji chuckled softly, a small annoyance creeping at his friends’ teasing comments. He glanced over at Sela as she danced with the flower girl and the rest of her bridesmaids , his eyes lingering on her for a moment.

"For a year and a half" he replied with a shrug. "It took a lot of restraint. But she was worth the damn wait.“

He took a sip from his drink, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. His friends continued to rib him, but beneath the teasing, there was genuine respect and admiration for his devotion to her decision.

“No pussy pocket? Nothing?”

“Shittt, I’m not that crazy. Lotions and oils have been a good friend to me,” Toji confirms, making them all laugh again.

“I heard her telling one of the bridesmaids that she didn’t know where you were taking her for your honeymoon. You’ gonna keep that secret from your friends, dickhead?” One of his groomsmen asked.

Toji chuckled again, “Keeping that for myself," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I want it to be a complete surprise —a special gift just for her. She deserves it."

His friends continued to teasingly nudge him, playful smirks on their faces as they took another sip of their drinks. They knew Toji was completely smitten with Selaphiel and would do anything to make their honeymoon unforgettable.

“Just don’t kill her, alright? You ain’t Edward, and she ain’t Bella,” another one says, the entire table falling out at that poke.

“Call me Toji Cullen then, the hell!” He smacks his teeth, laughing along with them.

Selaphiel comes around the table, waving softly as she then wraps her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck as she smiles, “Hi, handsome. I miss you. ‘M ready to go,” she muffled along his throat.

She feels a chill go throughout her body as she sees him manspread against the chair, his tie loosened as a few buttons are open down his shirt, briefly showcasing the other tattoos that trace his body. The silver chain around his neck sits beautifully along the skin, his Bulova watch cold along her body as he grabs her throat from above him, pulling her down to hover over his face.

"There you are, my lovely bride," he replied warmly, tilting his head to kiss her chin, “I missed you too. Are you ready to head out?"

“Yes,” her feminine voice says softly, “I wanna be with you.”

Toji's bone straight smirk widened, his eyes holding a tender expression. He gently slipped an arm around her waist, a protective yet affectionate gesture.

"Good," he replied lightly, his voice carrying a hint of desire. "I’m tired of sharing you.”

Selaphiel was finally out of that extremely uncomfortable dress, now wearing a more sultry look. It was purely white, fully laced, long sleeved and clinging to her body. A deep v was within the middle that ever so slightly showcased her nipples. Her veil was much shorter now, small pink bows all around the soft white material. With a farewell to his groomsmen and Selaphiel doing the tradition of throwing her bouquet to her bridesmaids, everyone followed outside, saying their goodbyes and continuously cheering. Toji guided Selaphiel away, a palpable excitement between them as they stepped into their black Aston Martin, speeding off into the night.

When they made it to their destination, they were now parked at a cliff, the car’s window showcasing the lights of the city at night. Toji told her they would sit here for a bit while he got a few last things together for their honeymoon. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, anxious as she had no idea where they were going. But instead, the chaos of their wedding day had brought a wave of exhaustion over her, now comfortable in his shoulder as she sat on top of his lap in the backseat, softly snoring against his shoulder as he scrolled through emails from his job.

She snuggled deeper within his body, Toji immediately adjusting to the movement, his warmth encompassing the natural coldness of her skin. It was a blessing and a curse. In the winter he was her personal heater, but any other time, she would flip him over immediately in the middle of the night, sticking her face directly in the fan across from the bed as she groaned hotly.

“You remember the first time we came up here?” She asks, her voice quiet as she seems to be half asleep.

Toji chuckles, “I always do. You punched me in the balls.”

“You tried to get a feel—for the free, crazy as hell,” she mumbled, “I don’t even want to know how much you spent on this Aston Martin. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to spend it all.”

“It wasn’t bad. It was about five—“

“Hundred? That’s not bad—“

“Thousand?”

Her eyes flew open, upper body sitting up as she said, “Toji Zenin. You did not spend five hundred thousand American dollars on renting an Aston Martin!—“

“Woman. I spent five thousand. You know what I’d do with five hundred thousand dollars? Buy like three Aston Martin’s!”

“Don’t be funny. You know I don’t do math,” she glared, “Even that’s still too much!”

He shrugs, switching the topic as he then says, “Speaking of my name…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sees his face become serious, sitting upwards to fully face him as she says, “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask a favor. Do you think I could…take your last name instead of you having mine?”

Selaphiel stares at him, his olive toned skin a cream color within the moonlight. Although she hadn’t spoken on it, the only people that appeared as “family,” at their wedding was his groomsmen. She knew that he didn’t associate with his family. He briefly told her that they were extremely abusive, telling nothing else. They had gotten into a bad argument about his stubbornness before, Selaphiel trying to offer him the word of the Bible about forgiveness. He was always extremely patient and sweet with her, but when it came to his family, that was an argument she was never going to win.

She presses her hand gently along his chin, rubbing her thumb over the scar among his lips. He grimaces slightly, squeezing the skin of her thigh as he slightly moves his face away.

“Of course we can do that.”

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she doesn’t make him push the conversation.

She leans forward, softly capturing his lips within hers, pulling back as she continues to graze her fingers along his face. He takes her wrist, softly kissing her hand, squeezing it within his palm.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” She tilts her head, “I’m gonna start nervously farting if you don’t. I’m extremely anxious.”

Toji laughs, “I was trying to hold out, but…” he lets out a deep breath, “I know I told you I would never go back home. But I remember for one of your assignments you had to do a city you were interested in, and you picked Shibuya, because you wanted to see all the markets, try the food, shit like that.”

Selaphiel’s eyes go slightly wide as she says, “Our honeymoon’s in Tokyo?”

Toji wants to roll his eyes as he says, “Yes, but—“

He groans as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him forward as her back is now against the car seat, kissing all over his face and jaw. It had been a dream of hers to visit Japan, even before she’d met him. She told him her dream of going into Tokyo, but he immediately knocked down the idea, telling her it wasn’t a place he planned on going back to. Unfortunately, he loved her too much to not give her something she always wanted.

“No family shit, Sela—“

“I promise,” she nods her head, “I just wanna be there with you. But seriously, how much did you spend?”

“You want me to lie?”

“You’re absolutely terrible.”

“This we all knew.”

Making it to the airport wasn’t the issue for Selaphiel, it was up until they were now on the plane, trapped within the sky and nowhere else to go. Toji knew she was terrified of planes, doing everything to make her as comfortable as possible. He’d even put them in first class, a bed within their section and office table for him to work while she slept. But instead, she balled up within his lap, holding onto him for dear life. He sighed, leaning his head on top of hers as he continued doing his work.

"Baby,” Toji murmured soothingly, “We’re landing in about thirty minutes. We’ll be okay.”

He was the complete opposite of her, enjoying flying in the air. He couldn't help but glance out the window, admiring the view from the plane's height. The vast expanse of the sky with its ever-changing patterns of clouds and the breathtaking landscape below filled his eyes with wonder. When he saw the overview of a place he use to call home, he felt a shift in his chest, not sure if it was nostalgia or the complete opposite.

She was thankful for them to finally land, the chauffeur placing their suitcases within the trunk as they were now making their way through the city. Selaphiel’s eyes didn’t know where to look, almost like a child seeing their favorite show come along the TV, fascinated and unable to pull away. They made it to their hotel, Selaphiel being slightly dragged by Toji’s hand as they made it up to the top floor of the building, a suite larger than she’d ever imagined now in front of her eyes. It was completely spacious, the windows showcasing the high buildings and colorful persuasion of the city, her eyes falling to a large tower not too far from where they stayed. She softly thanked the hotel staff that placed their bags within the room, her feet following her to the window, a warmth in her heart as she still couldn’t believe she was on her dream trip.

She feels arms come around her neck, leaning against her as he speaks within her ear, “You like it?”

“I love it,” she replies, “And I love you.”

“Yeah yeah, you just love me cause I’m your sugar daddy.”

She shrieks as he turns her around, throwing her over his shoulder. The hotel staff stands within the room as he says to him, “I’m apologizing now for future noise complaints you’re gonna receive.”

“Toji!” She giggles embarrassingly, unable to see as he passes the man a tip, closing the door behind himself as he leaves.

The rest of their day had been as interesting as the morning. Traveling all around the city, Selpahiel explored and took photos of anything she saw. It was also fascinating to watch how quickly Toji fell into his traditions. His deep voice switched in and out of his native tongue, speaking in words she didn’t understand yet she was still intrigued. It made her happy to see that he wasn’t repulsed with being here, finding his own way to fall in love with a place he associated with hatred. He was also falling in love with her all over again, her sunny disposition able to bring anyone’s energy up. But with that sunny disposition came a naivety that made him want to bang his head along a wall. Selaphiel stood in a soft green spaghetti strapped dress, a high slit on one leg as she wore sneakers with the look, perfectly sculpted body feverishly moving with each step she made. Even with the dress being flowy all of her curves defined themselves. Her dark curls bounced around her face and makeup, her hand reflexively pulling a stray hair behind her ear as she bent over the railing to stare down at the cherry blossom tree across from her.

He watched as her body aligned smoothly, back curving inwards, hips sinfully poking outwards. The slit in her dress swishes over the back of her thighs, a glimpse of her ass jiggling as she called behind herself, “Baby, look! You see?”

“I see,” he lowly replies, eyes only upon her figure, wondering how she'd look as he took her from behind, ass clapping harshly along his hips.

As they were seated in a restaurant, his mind only became worse. Selaphiel pouted as she adjusted the straps of her dress, “You think I should take them out?”

She refers to the heart shaped nipple piercings she has, the jewelry poking through the thin material of the dress, desperately begging to spring free.

“They’ve been kinda sensitive lately,” she says, Toji wanting to pull his hair out at this point.

“Could be the metal, baby. Your skin is more sensitive to the cheaper silver,” he replies. On the other hand, he was currently imagining her whines as he sucked along her sensitive nipples.

“Probably,” she shrugs, leaning forward as she opens her mouth, “Lemme’ have some of your food. What’d you call it?”

Of course.

He sighs, “Takoyaki.”

This wasn’t necessarily his final strike, but it was just enough. They were in a private indoor pool of the hotel, Toji watching as she absentmindedly paraded around in her baby-phat bikini. The innocent pink along her body is nowhere near as guilty as his thoughts. She was like his own personal bratz doll, her body coming out of the water as she goes to search for her phone on the table, her hair damp as it reaches the end of her back, body dripping to add along his carnal temptations. He wanted to play with her.

They were now back inside of their room, Toji laid across the bed as Selaphiel sprawled along his lap. His fingers were captured in a blunt as he held it between his lips, sucking his teeth as he kept trying to spark his lighter.

“Do I even wanna know how you snuck weed into Tokyo?”

“The safe answer is no,” he mumbles, still focused on sparking his lighter.

“Okay,” she rolls her eyes.

She might’ve come off naive at times, but she wasn’t stupid. She felt in her mind that she was stalling other things newly-wed’s did on their honeymoon. She also knew that smoking was a rarity for Toji, knowing that he only did it to take the edge off. She loved how respectful he was of her wishes, sometimes even going as far as to not touch her without asking. But this was different, their love was sanctioned within her devotion to her religious beliefs, and last time she’d read the Bible, it was now perfectly fine for them to enjoy their intimacy. So what was the issue?

Maybe she was intimidated by him. Or it was the thought of her inexperience compared to all the women he’d slept with, not knowing if she’d be enough for him. Maybe she was just afraid he’d tear her apart. It was that scary glint in his eyes, a lion constantly on the prowl when he stared. At times she couldn’t believe how incredibly attractive he was, even just doing regular things. Like now.

He brings his attention up to her, firmly pulling her downward as he tells her, “Open your mouth.”

She immediately complies. Lightly separating her baby pink lips, he blows the smoke into her mouth, pulling her forward by the back of her neck as he brings his tongue down her throat, drowning her in a ruthless kiss. She feels her heart pumping in her ears as she grips the bottom of his shirt, twisting nervously as he overpowers her, her body hovering beneath his as he dominates the kiss. Her breath hitches along his mouth as she attempts to pull herself back, Toji jerking her closer as he growls, “Don’t run from me.”

Toji holds her by the side of her neck as he briefly pulls their lips away, her pleading whimper inflaming something within his body. His eyes darkened with desire, cupping her face in his hands, his gaze locking into hers with an intensity that made his intentions clear. He was fierce, possessive. His mouth left no doubt as to who she belonged to.

“Baby—I’m uh—I’m hungry,” she then stutters, trying to distract him.

“Me too,” he rasps.

Oh.

He can feel her body now slightly trembling. He slows down his movements, staring at her aura that was shaken by a kiss alone. Her fingers softly press along her lips as her face is a deep shade of red.

“Fuck. My bad, pretty. I just—“ he cuts himself short, gripping her skin tightly to withhold his advances, “You said you were hungry?”

She can barely speak. Her eyes go slightly wide as she feels his bulge below her lap, prominent and hard. Huge, she thinks.

“Use your words, baby,” he encourages.

“Yes,” she then corrects, “I’m craving pasta.”

He tilts his head, lightly grinning at her as he says, “Basic ass pasta in Tokyo?”

She nods her head, trying to be normal with him, her eyes never looking directly into his as she replies, “Please?”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re lucky to have me,” she retorts.

She comes off of his lap, watching as he re-adjusts himself between his legs before making his way out of the bedroom. She leans back against the pillows for a while. After about twenty minutes of being in her head, it’s like she had finally come up for air, chaotically running her fingers under the blanket as she searches for her phone. Once she finds it, she immediately presses the call button, her ear to the screen as she waits.

Her best friend answers, “Why the fuck are you calling me, Selaphiel? It’s three in the morning in New York. You better be dying.”

“You’re mad yet you still picked up the phone?”

“What do you want?” She speaks in a monotone voice.

“Remember how I said I would call you if I started freaking out?”

“Unfortunately I do.”

“This is me now freaking out.”

“What the hell are you so scared of, Selaphiel? Dick?”

“His, in specific? Yes,” she admits.

“He loved your big headed ass enough to marry you, let’s not forget. He also loved you enough to hold off pussy for an entire year. And a half. Let the man break your vagina so hard that it falls off and creates a new one.”

“You’re not helping!”

Her best friend sighs, “Look. Just channel that inner sex-lioness, okay? The minute you guys start getting hot and heavy, it’ll come out.”

Selaphiel takes a deep breath as she thinks upon those words, realizing she might be being dramatic as she replies, “Okay. Lioness. Grrr,” she quietly growls within the phone.

“Girl,” her friend laughs, “I’m hanging up. You’re not being dramatic though, the man is built like a goddamn gorilla. Scary like one, too. Deuces! Writing a eulogy for your cookie as we speak.”

Her friend hangs up before she can say anything else, Selaphiel’s eyes rising as she sees Toji come back in the room. A curse leaves his lips as he reaches behind himself, pulling his shirt over his head which gives her a full view of his upper body. All of his tattoos were extremely meaningful to him. Dark ink complimented the silver jewlery along his wrists and neck, clinking with each movement he made.

Toji notices her gaze lingering on his exposed physique, a smirk now playing on his lips. He flexed his muscles slightly, a showmanship of his strength and masculinity as he said, “You wanna keep staring or come over here?”

“I just—um, did you hurt yourself?” She tries to find her words, bringing her eyes back down to the bed.

Toji's smirk widened as he noticed the subtle embarrassment in Selaphiel’s voice and the shift in her gaze. He continued to strip off his clothes, responding with a nonchalant shrug, “Got a stain from cooking. Imma’ hop in the shower before I finish,” he explains.

“Oh. Okay,” she nods.

“Wanna come shower with me? I’ll wash your hair,” he offers, “I know you don’t want chlorine sitting in it from the pool earlier.”

This was her chance. Toji was never shy to be fully naked in front of her, but at most she had only stripped down to her underwear to sleep. She knew that being in the shower with him might create an opportunity to pounce, but that wasn’t a bad thing. The longer she stared, the more she craved him. At the same time she wanted to say no based on her nervousness. But this was her husband now. There was no reason to fear it.

Lioness, she thinks of her conversation with her best friend. More like a kitten, she tells herself.

She then says, “Yeah. Sure,” she nods, convincing herself.

Toji's heart fluttered surprisingly at her agreement, his eyes lighting up with desire and affection. He closed the distance between them, gently tilting her chin up with his finger so that their gazes were level.

She nods her head, his grip becoming more firm as she repeats “Yes,” more confident this time as she sees his face.

He led the way to the luxurious ensuite bathroom, his excitement and affection for her palpable in the air between them. Toji closes the door, dimming the brightness to something softer and more ambient.

Her heart pounds within her chest. She kept her eyes down as she began to unravel her bikini top and bottom, the thin material dropping to the floor to reveal her bare body. Dark curls cascade around her, freckles appearing heavily along her face under the faint lights. Toji watched every second of this. He was now able to see every perfect flaw. Tiger stripes along her hips, dimples dented in her thighs, breast full as the jewelry within her areolas shine. Quickly placing her arms over chest, she clasps her hands over her arms, feeling her face completely hot.

He comes beside her, moving her hair behind her neck as he places a kiss along the skin. Selaphiel shivers more than she expected herself to as he says, “I’d kill for you, you know that? You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

She keeps her attention to stepping in the shower, the warm water pulling her back to reality as she exhales. Her eyes briefly wash over Toji who removes his bottoms, eyes falling to the third leg that sits in between his original pair. She brings her eyes back up to the shower head. Toji gently stepped into the shower behind Selaphiel, the warm water cascading over their bodies, steam embracing them like a comforting veil. His eyes fixed on her figure, his heart swelling with affection and admiration for his wife. He reached for the body wash, generously applying a small amount onto his hands before softly lathering it along her back and shoulders, savoring the feel of her skin under his calloused fingertips. It was like the first time touching her.

His hands along her bare body made her shudder, skin heating up in a way it hadn’t before. This was different. She was…aroused.

Toji noticed the subtle shudder that ran through her body as his hands traced along her bare skin, sending a wave of warmth and desire through his own veins. A low growl escaped Toji's lips as he pressed his body closer to hers, the heat of the water and the scent of her body wash blending into an intoxicating cocktail. Her hair was darker with water seeping into it, his hand latching around the flattened curls, pulling her along his chest as his lips hovered over her neck.

"You’re like a fuckin’ drug. I can’t resist you,” he whispered huskily in her ear, his breath hot against her flesh.

He twists her around, pressing his hand along the side of her throat to keep her eyes along his. Her nervousness came back out to play, eyes fluttered shut, teeth digging into her lip as she whimpered, “Toji…”

His grip on Selaphiel’s throat tightened gently as she whimpered his name, the sound echoing in his ears like a sultry symphony. His lips brushed against her skin, trailing along the sensitive flesh of her neck with a tantalizing mixture of tenderness and passion.

“Say that shit again,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and seductive, “I want to hear you say my name, pretty. I want to hear you call out to me.”

His lips along her throat made her entire body inflamed, shakily gripping his arm, “Toji…I…” he had barely done anything, yet her entire body was trembling. The sound of his name on her lips drove his desire to a fever pitch.

“That’s it,” he grunted. His hand moved down to her hips, pulling her closer to him as the heat threatened to consume them both. He captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his touch gentle yet unmistakably possessive.

“Baby…” she embarrassingly whined, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling her face becoming completely red.

Toji's heart raced as Selaphiel wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice breaking slightly in her pleading whine. His eyes darkened with desire, and he gently cupped her face in his hands, his gaze having an intensity that made his intentions clear.

"You’re okay,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with devotion and passion. Then, he leaned down, capturing her lips again in another sin ridden kiss.

She whimpered along his mouth, hand coming around the back of his hair as she captured his tongue in between her lips. Her thighs squeezed together as feels herself becoming horny, a newfound feeling that crippled her logic.

Toji's grip tightened in Selaphiel’s hair as she captured his tongue in hers, grunting at her desire to deepen the kiss. He could practically feel the heat between them rising with each passing second. His hands roamed over her bare skin, caressing and exploring every inch of her body, as if trying to etch her form into his memory. And then, with a low growl, he hoisted her up against the shower wall, holding her close to him as if she were the most precious treasure in the universe.

“I…Toji…wait. I don’t wanna…not in here, baby,” she stutters out, feeling her heart speed up as he hoists her against the shower.

He lowly chuckles along her skin. Selaphiel shrieks as he puts all of her weight onto him, carrying her into the bedroom. She couldn’t help the nervous giggle that left her lips, back along the bed as he began kissing her throat. The thought of their bodies wet from the shower hadn’t even crossed their minds. They enjoyed the feverish need for one another, Selaphiels neck stretched back as she raised her hand to his arm, digging her nail into his skin as his lips continued their assault along her throat. It wasn’t until his lips traveled down that she almost ripped his limb completely off.

He flattens his tongue along the jewelry of her nipple, hearing a soft gasp as she jumps. She realizes how good he is with his mouth, her areola being extremely sensitive yet a warm sense of pleasure overcomes her body. She closes her eyes the minute she sees him release her breast with a lewd popping noise, hungrily taking the other nipple into his mouth, growling as he squeezes his hands around her hips that kneel into his touch. His mouth is along her skin with a fierce possessiveness, claiming every inch to show just how badly he wants her.

“Never needed you the way I need you now, baby,” he says against her abdomen.

Selaphiel can only sit halfway up and stare down at his dark eyes, face completely red as she nods her head to mask the embarrassment. Toji watches as her breath hitches, meeting her gaze as he feels the arch within her body, his desire for her growing each passing second. His lips continue their journey down her hips, trailing famished kisses along the skin as he worshiped her body with a passion.

She had no chance to run, hide or even protest as he brought her legs over his shoulders, pulling her down to the edge of the bed as she was now staring at the top of his dark hair, Toji’s tongue making immediate contact with her clit. It was warm within his mouth, his jaw also making contact with the wetness of her arousal. He groaned in a way she hadn’t heard before. She was sweet, but he didn’t expect anything else. Selaphiel gasped loudly, attempting to push him away, the raw need coming from him overpowering everything else. His eyes locked into hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Toji—oh my god,” she softly cried, her body within a state of shock, unable to handle the thousands of nerve wracking pleasures she feels. He enjoys her. His entire mouth dances along her core as he swirls his lips in a circular motion, dirtily making out with the puff of her sensitive clit.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sela. You taste like goddamn heaven,” he growls against her, pushing his mouth deeper as he dives in and out of her lower lips, spreading her with his tongue as he drops spit against her, a loud slurping sound creating as he nuzzles his head farther into her. His nose is damn near captivated. She attempts to twist her hips out of his hold, Toji smacking his lips as he utters, “Come here,” locking his large palms around her ankles, spreading them from earth to hell as he locks her knees against the sheets.

It seems as if the more she tries to move out of his hold, the more aggressive he becomes. Selaphiel struggles out a cry as she watches his head bob up and down, mouth sliding down to her begging opening, his tongue fitting perfectly inside of her as it shoves in.

He tells her, “Watch me tongue fuck my pussy. You’ll love it.”

She couldn’t believe his words. She tilts her head to stare away, Toji briefly removing his hand from her ankle as he turns her chin back to him.

“Your pussy is so pretty, baby. Look how wet you are. It all feels good. Imma’ make you feel like this all the fuckin’ time,” he promises to her.

“Toji—“

He cuts her off, going back down to her spread legs, locking his arm back around her ankle. He sticks his tongue out, slowly entering it within her squelching hole. Selaphiels body shakes at this, Toji moaning as he slowly removes his mouth from her, doing it in a repetition as he leans down, thrusting it back in. Her eyes watch in horror as a white substance appears on the end of his tongue, her hips trembling as she cries, “Baby, I…no!” She flies her hands over her face.

Toji chuckles darkly, “You can’t be creaming already. You’re too fuckin’ good to me,” he grunts.

The lock on her ankles allows him to move her in a way he wants, grinding her clit along his tongue, coming back down to her trembling opening. It squeezes around his tongue as he kisses within it, stretching her open to prepare her for something bigger. He spread her legs wider, muttering against her body, “I’m gonna stretch your pussy so good, baby. Gotta’ make sure it doesn’t hurt too bad.”

“Toji,” she whimpers, pleading he stops this unruly talk.

He continued his ministries, tongue exploring her in ways she’d never experienced before. He was relentless. He squeezed her ankles, gripping them as he pulled her hips down to slosh against his face, Selaphiels eyes blown with lust as he dragged his lower lip along her clit, trapping it under his mouth as he followed the upper lip behind it.

Toji briefly looks up to see Selaphiel watching him, her eyes rolling blissfully as he continues to pleasure her. The sight only fueled his desire. His grip tightened, his tongue now working with a determined fervor, desperate to draw out anything from her lips.

“Baby…t—this feels so…”

She brings her hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the dark mane. His body was inflamed at the desperate sound of her voice. He leaned into her touch as her nails dug into his scalp, relishing the mix of pleasure and pain that it brought.

He gave her pussy a deep kiss, her vision now becoming teary, the feeling all becoming too much for her. Toji nuzzles his lips against her, kissing her opening again, and again, and again. She went to push his head away when he gripped both of her hands in his, bringing them under the hold he had against her ankles, her upper body now forced to look directly at him from how she was positioned. The sight of her dark curls covering her face as her lip was tucked under her teeth was enough to make him more careless with his movements, sliding his tongue into her hole and rocking her hips forward.

“B—baby, I feel like I h—have to pee…” she whined.

Toji can’t hold back the chuckle that comes from his mouth, sending vibrations up her spine at the rumbling along her clit.

“You’re cumming, baby,” he explains, “Relax. Imma’ eat your pussy until you squirt, that’ll feel better than cumming. Okay?”

To hear him speaking this way, she could barely handle it. She gushes along his face, filling his mouth with the sweet taste he begged more for. Her upper body trembled as she desperately tried not to scream out. His name was the only thing she could remember to say as he moaned against her clit, spanking the side of her leg. Countlessly, endlessly.

Toji maintained his grip along her ankles, French kissing her opening as he drank from her, never wanting her climax to end. He dragged her until her hips were hanging off of the bed, watching as she gasped, quivered and moaned in pleasure.

“What’s happening to me…” she speaks softly, locking her eyes closed.

“You’re experiencing pleasure, baby. Please don’t be embarrassed,” he gruffly tells her, leaning back down as he flattens his tongue against her clit.

He chaotically shakes his head from side to side, a moan startling out of her lips from the movement against her. This had been her first time experiencing an orgasm. She whimpers deeply as she watches her legs tremble. Toji was drunk, unable to stop himself from becoming addicted. His head was swimming, the sound of her moans and fingers entangled in his hair making him more dizzy with need. He wanted her, desperately.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. You’ okay? I want to give you more,” he coaxes, bringing himself upward to see her expression. Selaphiel turns her face from his, red and flushed. Nonetheless she nods, accepting the kiss he gives her, tasting a foreign sweetness along her lips.

She wraps her arms around his neck as he releases her hands, placing her legs above his shoulders as he now hovers over her. Selaphiels eyes go slightly wide as she looks down, seeing his tip, fat and as pink as his lips. Her eyes run over the scar along his mouth. She brings her hand to his chin, going to touch along the mark, surprised as he embraces his face into her hand. His heart swelled at her touch, coming forward as he captured her lips in his, a kiss so filled with love.

His tip smushes along her clit, bobbing up and down that it causes her hips to jump. Her heart beats in her chest, the pounding of it beaming in her ears. She feels safe with him. The love and passion within his eyes move to a desire and lustful one, his vision watching his tip throb along her clit, spreading her legs wider with his palms. Toji places his forehead against Selaphiels, seeing as she has her teeth dug into her bottom lip. He goes slow—at least he attempts to— pressing her legs back farther as he pushes himself in. His tip becomes swallowed by her, latching onto him as if she’d been waiting a lifetime. Their lips are just barely touching each other’s. Selaphiels mouth slowly gaped open as it felt like a fire had been matched along her lower abdomen. She gasps, jerking under his hold at the intrusion of pain, whimpering as Toji wraps his palms around her wrists, trapping her along the bed.

“Toji,” she softly cried, squeezing her palms under his hold as he sucked the skin of her throat, adjusting her hips to the uncomfortable pain she feels.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he grunts, feeling as she tightens around him.

He brings his lips back over hers, Selaphiel moaning deeply as he spreads her legs wider than before. That moan shuddered out into a cry as a mixture of pleasure sensed over her pain. It was something she’d never felt before, a deep pleasure that felt almost blinding, like her entire body would rapture from it. Toji’s eyes darken as he listened to her moans blend with different feelings, the sensations driving him further into a frenzy of desire.

“You’re taking my shit so well, baby,” his breath is hot against her lips, “Such a fuckin’ big girl.”

His hips rock down to meet the back of her thighs. She feels her eyes slightly watering, rolling to the back of her head as she feels him drop his hips down again. Her mouth falls open as a large wave of pleasure washes over her. She whines out, “Fuck. Fuck, baby.”

“You feel so fuckin’ tight, baby. Let me have more of you,” it’s not really a question as he hovers his large upper body above her, keeping his hips low as he lightly picks up speed. More pleasure comes with each movement, her walls pulling him deeper each time his balls slam along her skin, sticky as she becomes more wet with each stroke.

He slowly removes the grip he had on her wrists, allowing her to bring her hands along his face, her finger tips tracing all along his abdomen. She brings her eyes down, watching as his hips connect with hers, causing her to whimper out.

“Look at that, pretty. ‘Pussy is so perfect…” he says, a low moan falling from his lips. The more she squeezes, the more he’s unable to hold back. He places his hand along her jaw, face right above hers as he grips firmly. Watching Selaphiels reactions only drove Toji’s desires to a new height. He could see the mixture of surprise and arousal within her face from the newfound aggression he carried. It fueled him to be rougher, even more possessive.

“Tell me how you feel,” he commands. Her mouth opens as she can hear their skin slapping together, body shifting each time he strokes. She’s unable to move her face as he keeps his eyes directly on hers.

She whimpers out, “Feels so…fucking good, baby,” to which he cockily replies, “Yeah?” Her moans become louder as he thrusts harder at that.

His expression darkened as Selaphiel talked to him, less shy than before. His grip on her jaw tightened ever so slightly. His voice was low, a velvety growl as he spoke.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he purred, his thumb gently tracing her cheek, “I wanna make you like this all the time. Submissive,” he leaned down, lips brushing against hers before he grunted, “Let me give you all of your dick, baby. Yeah?”

Her mouth never closed, releasing even louder moans as she felt his hips slamming against hers. She went to bring her hand against his hip to slow him down, only making him speed up. She could hear his arrogant chuckle in her ear as she helplessly whined.

“Stop whining. Take it,” he tells her, voice with a dark edge, leaning down as he captures her lips in a dominant kiss.

He has a grip on the side of her throat now. She hesitantly brings her hands to the back of her thighs, whimpering as she spreads her opening for him, watching as his length sinks down inside of her, flushed and veiny as it bruises along her walls.

“S—so good, baby. Yes,” she whimpers out.

The sight of her taking control of her own pleasure, holding herself at his mercy, sends a surge of possessive desire coursing through Toji’s veins. He growled, his grip on her throat growing firm as he stared down at her.

“You’re mine,” he growls, “Every fuckin’ piece of you.”

His grip clasps around her entire throat, upper body hovering over hers as he pulls out, harshly slamming his hips back inside of her. She grips the hand around her throat, cursing each time he bottoms out. Her lower abdomen trembles as he yanks her entire body down to meet his. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared scarily down at her, watching as she fell apart beneath him.

“Baby…I f—feel like I have to pee again,” she mutters, her face hot as she hears Toji darkly chuckle again.

“You’re gonna cum again, baby. Think you’ll squirt on my dick this time?” He asks her, her eyes shutting as she whimpers at his voice.

She pulled him down by the back of his neck, kissing him softly. Her lips trembled against his, moaning out in a way she hadn’t expected herself to. Her mouth then opened as she moaned louder than before, her hand coming over her lips as she tried to quiet herself. Toji moaned into the kiss as he felt her covering her mouth, ripping her hand away as his eyes were completely possessive.

“Don’t hold back your moans, pretty. I wanna see you come apart. You hear me? Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Yes,” she softly cried, “I—I’m cumming, baby.”

“Show me.”

Another orgasm ripped through her body. She brought her hand to his back, scratching deeply into the skin as she shouted his name. Her entire body exploded in raptures, holding him close to her as she shivered under his hold. He continued to move nonetheless.

“I love you,” she cried, her mouth interrupted by a tender kiss as he grunted, “I love you more, baby. Never loved anyone more than I love you,” he grits his teeth, a moan escaping his mouth as he pulls out of her, cum dripping from his tip and dropping along the bed. Her body still continues to orgasm, feeling as she trembles involuntarily. As she tries to relax beneath him, her breathing slowly becomes steady as he brings his lips over her neck, tickling her with his mouth. She giggles softly, trying to push him off as he holds her down.

She brings her face to his as she asks, “…Did it…feel good for you? I—I know you’ve been with a lot of women—“

“Selaphiel, don’t piss me off in a moment like this,” he snaps at her, “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m honored to be your first, baby. Wouldn’t have changed it for the world.”

She presses her lips together, keeping her eyes down from his. She feels his hand come to her chin, pulling her up as he states, “I mean it.”

She nods her head, trying to pull herself away from the awkwardness she feels. This was a beautiful moment. She gave herself to the man she trusted wholeheartedly, and she wouldn’t have traded it for the world. She brings her lips up, kissing him passionately.

She then asks quietly, “Am I…pregnant now?”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

When she wakes up the next morning, she sees that the other side of the bed is empty. Sunlight bursts within the room, the large windows open as she stares over the city of Tokyo, bright and colorful lights blinding her eyes. She slowly sits herself up as the familiar smell of pancakes fill in her nostrils, the sweetness choking her throat. She runs her fingers through her hair as she looks around the room, her eyes meeting with the large silhouette of Toji, his body passing the door frame as he seems to be on the phone. Business, she figured. He winks as he disappears back into the kitchen.

Her mind falls back to the memory of the night before. The moment she thinks about it, she feels that her legs are sore. She brings her fingers up to her lips, remembering his rough kisses. His eyes staring down at her. The way he handled her. She didn’t know what came over here, but she wanted that again.

She quickly showers, debating whether or not to actually put clothes on. She stares at herself. They’d already had sex, this was her husband, why was she still afraid to tell him what she wanted?

It's not like he’d say no. Maybe she was embarrassed, only having sex one time and wanting to be ruined by him the next morning. Was she crazy?

She thought about doing her makeup. Realizing that he’d catch onto her plan, she disses the makeup idea. She allows her hair to fall around her body, her arched eyebrows strikingly dark against her light freckles, brown eyes soft as she stared at herself. She felt…different.

Taking a deep breath, she wraps a towel around her body as she creeps out of the room, making her way into the kitchen as she sees him still on the phone. He holds a bowl as he mixes batter within it, her ears not registering what he says as he speaks in his language.

He notices her, muttering another couple of words before he hangs up the phone, “Shit. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I just smelled you were cooking. How long have you been up?”

He grins at her, “A while. I wanted to wake you up, but you were sleeping like a rock. Must’ve fucked you good, huh?”

Her face goes red, “Don’t be an ass.”

“Just messing with you, baby,” he eyes the towel around her body, seeing her face is red in the cheeks and bare of any flaws, “How did I get so lucky?”

“You must’ve gambled hard for me,” she amusingly replies, sitting herself on the table across from the stove as she watches him.

“Must’ve put my fuckin’ life as collateral,” he agrees.

A newfound feeling of lust had crawled up her spine. It spread like wildfire, furiously making her sick in her entire body. She couldn’t stop thinking of him in that way. She stares at the way his back muscles flex as he continues stirring the bowl. He looks back to her, noticing her state.

“You’re distracting me, pretty. Can’t finish cooking when you’re staring at me like that.”

“Sorry,” she shakes her head, “I just…couldn’t help to watch you.”

She tilts her head, hair falling around her body as it follows her. The minute he turns back towards the stove, Selaphiel releases the hold of the towel she wears, letting it fall along the table. She presses her hair behind her ear as Toji’s eyes capture her bare body, a giggle coming from her lips as he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t play with me right now, Selaphiel,” his smile drops from his face.

She pouts, “You don’t want to play with me?”

She stands from the table as she comes in front of him, a newfound sense of confidence filling her body. She wants him. Slowly, she keeps her eyes upon his as she lowers herself to the ground, a jolt of surprise and desire coming within him.

“Baby,” his voice speaks lowly, almost like a warning, “What are you doing?”

“I want you in my mouth,” she tells him. A groan drops from his lips as he clutches her hair in his fist, pulling her to where her entire face is shown from below.

“You sure?” His face shows genuine concern.

She nods her head. He then grunts, “Imma’ fuck your throat up.”

He places his thumb on her bottom lip, opening her mouth roughly as he pulls his length from the sweatpants he wears, tip encompassing between her lips as he shoves himself within her throat. In this moment she remembered all of the advice her friends had given her on pleasuring him. Her eyes shut as she tries to focus, fearful that she’d chicken out as he guides her head against his hips, pulling her back and forth by the ponytail he created.

“Your mouth feels fuckin’ amazing, baby. Just like that,” he groans out.

“Fuck my throat, please?” she tells him, not so much asking. Her eyes were big and doe like with an innocence that had him wanting to shout.

“I’ll bruise it,’ he corrects.

She hummed satisfyingly at his words, wrapping her lips tighter around the dark pink flesh, sliding her palm down as she took him deeper down her throat. Her other hand placed on his hip as she pulled him forward, her head rushing back and forth as she twisted her wrist, feeling as saliva pulled between her fingers and the space between her lips. She pulled her mouth away, now only working at him with her hand as she stuck out her tongue, letting spit drag out and fall onto the pre-cum forming against his tip.

Toji couldn’t believe his sight, his innocent woman that went red at a sexual joke was now below him, sucking his dick like she was made to do so. She hungrily took him back into her mouth as she pressed herself down, eyes fluttering up to his completely low ones as she gagged. It was almost effortless to her. He forced himself down her throat, a low moan fleeting from his lips as he collected more of her hair in his fist, fucking her mouth.

Her eyes were teary, throat nearly sore, lips bearing a dark red and all she could focus on was getting him to cum. Making him cum. Hand that was still wrapped around him, she placed it behind her back with the other, her eyes shutting tightly once again and filling her throat until she could barely breathe, nose grazing over the pubic hairs attached to his skin as Sela finally pulled herself back. Toji tightened his lower half, a slew of drool coming from her tongue and lips.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy, baby,” he grits out. Yanking her up, he turns her body around, throwing her upper half along the marble of the table.

His ragged movement causes him to knock the pancake batter along the floor, her chest pressed up against the marble that makes her piercings cold, her body warm as it becomes aroused. He holds both of her wrists with one hand, feeling himself becoming pissed off at her teasing. She giggles at his impatience, keeping her eyes along the table to hide her amusement.

She then gasps softly as he spanks her, clamping her mouth shut as he asks, “What the fuck is so funny?”

She bites her lip to stop her giggling, shaking her head as she doesn’t verbally respond. He keeps his hands wrapped around her fists as he knocks her legs wider with his own, Selaphiel then softly giggling out, “You’re so cute.”

“Cute, huh?”

He takes his other hand to spread her open from behind, Toji seeing the slick arousal shining along her brown skin from the sun beaming in the room. Her body goes into shock as she feels his tip prodding at her opening, sliding himself in slowly. Her mouth drops open as he presses her back inward to perfect her arch, Selaphiel shuddering out a whine as he says, “Look at you. Swallowing every inch of my dick.”

He takes her hair within his fist as he guides her. His other hand stays locked around her wrists, her fingers reaching upward to feel for his arm as her body is trapped under his hold. He pushes in deeper. He then reaches up the front of her, pulling his palm around her mouth as he clasps her voice shut, Selaphiel moaning loudly between his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he begins snatching her back onto his pelvis.

“Thought I was playing with you, huh?” He talks within her ear, Selaphiel unable to keep up as the heaviness of her ass is clapping along the skin of his hips, her brain now fried and completely empty.

She gasps out between his fingers, “Baby—“

“No. None of that ‘baby’ shit now,” he grunts, taking one of his legs as he lifts it along the marble of the table, giving her a particularly hard thrust that causes her to shout. This was completely different from the night before. He was almost implausible, as if these feelings were deep within him. He was holding them back just for her—but she’d clearly poked the bear.

“Oh…my…fuck…” she cries, groaning at every movement he makes. Her walls feel sensitive, the strokes he gives her are nothing nice. But it all feels so good. She could feel tears blinking within her eyes, thighs trembling dangerously. Toji can’t help but smugly grin behind her, listening to the way she cries out with pleasure, sounds spurring him on with how she reacts to him. It makes him feral.

“You’re gonna’ paint my dick with your cum. You’re so damn pretty. So damn perfect,” he keeps up with his movements, removing his hand from her wrists as he now has both hands wrapped around her mouth, gripping her down, bouncing her along the front of him to where Selaphiel could barely speak. She only nods her head in agreement, eyes still knocking backwards as if she were possessed, moaning aggressively as his abdomen tightened each time he was deep within her.

She feels like she’s going to black out. Even with that thought, her mind swarms for her to keep going. She then takes her hips as she pulls them up, helping as she follows the rhythm of him bringing her back down. She turns her head slightly, seeing the darkness shift in Toji’s eyes.

“Let me fuck you back, baby,” she pleas softly.

He doesn’t release his hands over her mouth, only loosening them to show he wasn’t pulling her down as he murmured, “Go ahead.”

She whimpered as she twisted her hips around, dropping them back against his pelvic, turning to watch his low eyes. Every moan is louder each time their hips connect. Toji groaned as she took control, his grip along her face becoming less heavy as he watched her move against him, body filling with hunger as he listened to her voice grow louder with each smack of their hips.

“Mmm, I got it, baby,” she whimpered out, Toji’s abdomen squeezing at her whiny tone.

“I know,” he rasped, “Squeezing my fuckin’ dick like this.”

She hissed, pushing them away from the table to where she had no support to lean herself on. She bent herself over to where she had her hands locked around her own ankles, Toji taking his dominance back as he tugs her back by her hip, slamming her down along the front of his thighs. Her eyes roll to the back of her head.

His grip on her was strong and possessive, teeth clenched as he slammed her down heavier into his hips, the sound of their bodies connecting filling the air.

“Oh fuuuck,” he groaned, head dropping down to stare at the way her ass clapped against his body, skin shaking within his palm.

The sound of his voice, his pounding deep inside of her was all too much to handle. Her voice was quiet as she creamed along his dick, feeling him even deeper than before from the angle she was now in. She gripped tightly around her ankles, lifting her upper body as she tried to match his rhythm. He slammed in deeper, her body trembling as she felt a rush of pleasure punch her in the gut, realizing she was having another orgasm.

Her idea of moving away from the table failed her as she was now unable to take control, reaching out to move away from him. Unfortunately Toji’s grip of her skin was lethal. He slammed her down onto his hips, her ears only able to hear their skin slapping together. She felt as if she was having an exorcism, eyes swirling to the back of her head as she released a long moan of, “Oooh shittt, baby. You’re so deep.”

He shakes his head, “Nah. Keep cumming.”

She cries out, tears dropping onto the floor as she holds onto herself, messily sobbing out, “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

And he does. She feels him damn near in her stomach as she tries to pull away, his own moans now mingled with hers as his restraint completely faltered. He lifted her up, biting down at the nape of her neck as his other hand was still along her hip, hotly pulling her down, Selaphiels voice going completely dumb as she whined, “Don’t stop. Baby, please. Don’t.”

“Look at my little crybaby,” he coos, hand now along the skin of her throat as he tugs her down, chuckling darkly in her ear, “This is your dick, baby. Stop running from it.”

“I’m gonna cum on my dick, baby,” she cries harshly. He replies, “Yeah? Show me again.”

Her stomach dropped as her orgasm released through her, shivering chaotically as Toji pulled her neck back, watching her face blown with pure lust, falling apart in shambles all because of him. She loved him, wanting every single part he had to give. Even this one. He kissed her roughly, tonguing her down the same way he had the moment they were officially married. Even in an erotic moment, their love for one another never dissipated.

He held her as he felt her body relax within his hold, her mouth panting out against his as she held him close, eyes shut as she felt her face go red. She wished she could stop that.

“You’re a bastard,” she croaked.

Toji couldn’t help but smirk knowingly, “Damn right. But I’m your bastard.”

[rosewaterandivy]

at the fever pitch

summary: an incident at Hawkins Lab and a fever you can't sweat out. well, sweat out on your own at least.

pairing: s.h. x f!reader

W.C.: 3.9k

warnings: NSFW 18+MDNI, cursing, dub-con because sex pollen (hello!) , my usual brand of filth (protected p-i-v, overstimulation, switch steve & reader ig, soft!dom elements), improper lab safety

a/n: spruced up this bad boy for reasons unknown; enjoy! 💜

🎶 I got the holy rope, I felt the fever grip me when I needed it most🎶

“Well, anyone can lie back and think of England,” Eddie says, gravel crunching under his shoes as you wrench open the car door.

“As if,” you scoff, waiting for the ignition to catch. “That’s un-American pal.”

He rolls his eyes, an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Apologies Princess, I’ll add myself to the Blacklist immediately.”

“The Boston Tea Party, at least,” you remedy, pulling out of Forest Hills. “The Constitutional Convention.”

“Powdered wigs.”

“See?” you say with a grin, “More patriotic. Less Henry the VIII.”

You let your arm drop from behind his seat, your skin sticky and damp with perspiration from the summer heat. It wasn’t even that hot yet; it was early summer at best. But this knowledge did nothing to quell the stifling warmth.

Flicking on the a/c, you fan yourself while waiting for a respite of cool air and take a hard turn onto the quiet suburban street.

All day there’s been a roiling in your gut, something you’d chalked up to resident boredom and hoped would be placated by a visit with Eddie. But even shooting the shit with your nearest and dearest wasn’t enough to keep it at bay.

You’d sweated through your clothes and had to change into some of his before decamping to the blessed cool of the Harrington house.

“Hey,” Eddie says, jarring you from your thoughts. “You’re looking a little…”

“I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

His eyes assess you, quick and curious, not markedly different from his usual glance. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you know it’s to save himself from saying anything further.

Truth be told, you’d been a little short of temper as of late. This, in addition to your newly acquired running temperature, which was not the kind of hot you were aiming for.

“Anyway,” you say, steering the conversation back toward the matter at hand. “If I’m having sex, I don’t wanna ‘lie back’ and be able to think of anything. My brain already goes hyper-drive on its own, and I am not lookin’ to introduce that into my sex life.”

“What sex life?”

“Right, okay. Because you’re knee-deep in dick right now, sure.” A scoff slips from your lips as you pull into the drive and cut the engine. “How’s that right hand treating you?”

Eddie quips back some sort of response.

Not that you’re able to discern it, mind you. And while, yes, on occasion you’ll opt for ignoring your motor mouth of a best friend in favor of say, zoning out as a shirtless Steve Harrington strolls by, or maybe in favor of contemplating the implications of string theory, what the fuck ever.

But not this time.

In fact, you’re barely able to make it out of the car before the world decides to careen sideways and Eddie, for all his good intentions, has no choice but to call for help lest he snap his spaghetti arms in two attempting to drag you into the house.

You’d think for loading up all that gear for the band he’d be more capable, but no. Gareth, on the other hand–

“Hey,” someone says from above where you’ve chosen to lay down and die. “Where’s the fire?”

You blink your eyes open momentarily, finding a blurry sort of man-shaped thing, but it’s kind of hard to tell with the sun piercing directly into your eyes. And before you can reply, your stomach flips only to land in an unholy cramp that has you spitting, “Oh goddamnit, fuck me running!”

The blob that has to be Eddie pauses to say, “That sounds difficult, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

Muscles uncoiling after the searing pain has passed, you prop yourself up on an elbow to firmly say, “Once was more than enough, never again Munson.”

Steve, who has dropped into a squat somewhere near the vicinity of your face, furrows his brow. Apparently, sitting up has proven to be too much for your body, as you slip back with an audible thud onto the concrete. If you turn your head just so, you’d be able to see where his red shorts have ridden up his toned thighs.

You can feel your heart as it attempts to beat through your chest, as if it could make a mad dash outside the confines of your ribs. Steve lays a gentle hand on your forehead, mumbling something to himself as Eddie worries his lip.

“She been like this all day?”

“Yeah, the fever is new today. But she’s been acting weird since the last time she was at the Lab.”

Your head feels all fuzzy. Your body, which you were previously capable of operating, feels so heavy. And hot. Like you're a bag of bones and magma just swirling around, well not swirling at present, you’re very much getting cooked from the summer sun on Harrington’s driveway.

Speaking of—

You turn just as two arms slide beneath you, one at your knees and the other at your waist, and you’re lifted off the ground only to dive smack into Steve’s chest. Oh god, he smells so good.

“Okay Gumbo, come on,” He grunts as he stands up.

“It’s Gumby man, we’ve been over this.” Eddie corrects, and attempts to swing one of your arms to land at Steve’s shoulder, so you don’t fall bodily from his hold.

The two continue their conversation, as he carries you into the cool dark house. His deep voice radiating from his chest in a soothing vibration from where you rest your head. You could just melt right here, right now. Steve is warm and golden and everything right in the world.

There’s a sound of trampling feet as he sets you on the sofa, and to your great reluctance, turns to Dustin, his mouth tilting in slight disapproval. “You said nothing happened at the lab.”

Dustin shrugs in a teenage approximation of nonchalance. “For all intents and purposes, nothing did happen.”

Steve grimaces and sweeps his arm over to you. “Does that look like nothing to you?!”

His eyes finally land on where you’ve slumped across the couch. “Oh,” Dustin mutters, “That.”

“Explain.”

Eddie, by this point, has settled himself on the floor, his back reclined against the foot of the sofa, his fingers twining with yours as your eyes flutter close. _

“Oh shit!”

Turning toward Dustin on the abandoned sub-basement floor of Hawkins Lab, you raise a brow in curiosity. Knowing him, it’s probably something innocuous, like a spilled beaker or whatever.

Taking a step toward him, you hear a distinct crunching of glass, over his warnings of, “No, no, no! Don’t move!”

Too little, too late.

Beneath your sneakers lies a broken vial with its stopper intact. As you move to back away from the hazard, because Dustin would only freak out if something was hazardous, a soft plume of purple vapor rises through the air.

“Get your mask on,” you shout, “Now, Henderson!”

“But what about–”

“Just do it!”

You hear rather than see him get the gas mask on, and deeply regret leaving yours behind in the van earlier that day.

Even backing away, slowly and steadily as you were, was no help protecting you from an airborne chemical concoction. Tugging the bandana holding your hair back over your nose and mouth as some semblance of precaution, you reached out for Dustin’s hand as he traveled the wide berth around the toxin, and lit out of there.

Once outside, you pull the fabric off your face and inhale deeply. You check Dustin for any physical injuries and then make him do the concussion test, just in case. He gripes and grumbles the whole way through, but like hell are you bringing back an injured kid. He checks you as you turn around, searching for any offending purple stains, but finds nothing.

As you race the setting sun and leave Hawkins Lab in the rearview, if you look closely, you can see an abandoned sneaker and bandana thrown off to the side of the parking lot. Dustin, for all his prattling, seems fine as you drive with socked feet back to Harrington’s place.

He fiddles with the radio dials, surely fucking up whatever system Steve has in place, before settling on a local college station. You can feel his gaze studying you, looking for anything amiss. Hand flexing on the wheel, you swallow audibly, your sinuses filling with a distinct scent of sweat and laundry detergent— warm and clean as it sticks to your lungs.

Easing the car into the drive and stepping out of it, you twirl the keys before tossing them over to Steve. He’s talking to Dustin, and you can see his eyes flitting to and fro, doing the safety check that all of you subconsciously do after a mission. He smiles and claps the kid on the back, watching as he dashes inside.

He pockets his keys and turns to you. “You okay?” he asks, just as pollen tickles at your nostrils.

You nod, willing the sneeze away, eyes reddening with the effort.

“Y-you got something, just there.” He mimes brushing something from his lip. They’re pink and full, how had you never noticed that?

You mirror him, swiping at your nose, which somehow dislodges the pollen, and oh, fuck, here we go again.

He moves toward you and is in the middle of calling your name, right as you sneeze into Steve’s open mouth.

“Fuck, it’s inside me!”

He blinks and coughs. “Yeah,” he says, settling a hand on your shoulder and guiding you inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He smells like bedsheets and aftershave. Sweat and skin.

Your mouth waters. _

“It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad,” Steve mutters to himself as Dustin goes pink in embarrassment. “Not that bad? Whaddya call this then?!”

“An accident?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Oh my god,” He straightens up, arms crossed against his chest. “Surrounded by idiots everywhere I go.” Steve sends Dustin off for swabs or something, stopping mid-turn as he catches sight of your finger looped with Eddie’s.

“What’re you doing?”

Eddie stops tapping his foot against the carpet to look up at Steve. “Uh, holding hands?” He slows the normal cadence of his speech and overly enunciates, “What are you doing, Steve?”

“That’s not hand-holding,” he corrects, just as something hot and vicious settles at the base of his skull. “And don’t.” He bats Eddie’s hand away, watching as it falls limply to the floor. “What if she’s contagious or something?”

“Well, in that case,” he says, “It’s your mouth she sneezed in, man.”

Steve blinks but doesn’t balk.

Eddie cocks his head, eyes narrowed as he assesses Steve. And he wouldn’t say that he’s mad exactly, he’s never really seen Steve get mad— terrified and horrified, yes, but never quite angry. Truthfully, Eddie is glad he’s never had the pleasure; he’d dealt with enough belligerent and angry men, thanks.

Whatever Steve is doing… it’s different. He’s hovering, which isn’t exactly new for the guy, but it’s weird that he’s doing so around you. You’re not exactly friends; in fact, just the other day you were really on a tear about not having any clients for the summer ever since Steve became a self-avowed babysitter.

Eventually, Dustin returns with a q-tip and swabs your cheek. This is, of course, what wakes you up, snorting and grumbling while failing to suppress a full-body shiver. Eddie throws a blanket over you under the surveillance of Steve, who’s then pulled into the garage by Dustin.

It’s only after the door clicks shut that it dawns on him, and even then, Eddie thinks it’s better kept to himself. _

Steve leans against a worktable while Dustin checks the swab. There’s a lot of beakers and vials with an occasional crackle from the walkie. He doesn’t ask questions of what exactly Dustin gets up to in here, he’s better off not knowing.

Dustin mutters to himself as he gently swirls a glass vial.

“What is it?” He asks hesitantly, because the way you slumped against him with no argument was a little disconcerting. The two of you are not close, not even very friendly despite dealing with this Upside Down bullshit together. But when he thinks about you now, that spike of heat when he saw your finger looped with Munson’s—

“Well,” Dustin says, clearing his throat. “Her fever is going to get worse, I’d imagine.” He sets the vial down and shakes his head. “And you’re exposed too.”

Steve snorts, “Yeah, I’ll say.”

He listens dutifully to Dustin’s instructions while attempting to ignore how damn hot it is in the garage. _

All things said and done, Steve thinks he’s done pretty well. Ibuprofen, blankets, saltines, gatorade, and water. Even hefted you upstairs to one of the guest rooms while Eddie swiped his keys and promised everyone a trip to the arcade.

Kept his emotions in check once he noticed that you smelled faintly of cigarettes and weed, a familiar Metallica t-shirt adorning your form.

Eddie.

“Hey man,” he said from the base of the stairs, Steve’s keys spinning around his finger. “Wrap it before you tap it.”

“What?”

The door slams shut in reply.

So, yeah. After that, Steve left you to your own devices and was just hoping for the best. His symptoms seemed to lag a bit after yours, so he was anticipating some dizziness just as you knocked on his bedroom door.

“Steve?”

The door opens slowly, he’s half-illuminated by the dull glow from the streetlamp outside. It spills out into the hallway, bathing you in a warm light that cascades down your legs, the ragged hem of the shirt skimming across your bare thighs.

Breath stutters in his lungs. His chest is burning. His fingers seem ready to rip the door from its hinges. He watches as your body shakes, the worn fabric swaying side to side revealing a hint of your white briefs.

Correction, your soaked white briefs.

Steve swallows audibly, nostrils flaring as he picks up your scent.

Sex.

Skin and warmth and salt.

He watches idly as a bead of sweat trails down your neck to disappear beneath the torn collar of Eddie’s shirt.

Oh fuck, this is how he dies, isn’t it? Positively wrecked with no hope of release; a mallet to the back of the head would be kinder.

“Y-yeah?”

And for some godforsaken reason, his dumbass keeps breathing. The scent of you swirling through the air only to hit the back of his throat and remind him of what he can’t have.

Steve’s grip on the doorframe tightens as he attempts to steady himself.

“Are you…” Your brow furrows in concern, eyes dark and trained on him, “Are you feeling alright?”

And you don’t just smell good anymore, Steve thinks as he takes another shaky breath, you smell fucking delicious.

“I’ve, uh, been better,” he stammers out, his mind going fuzzy.

Another shiver rattles through you, and something in him just snaps.

“Hey, c’mere,” he whispers, reaching an arm out. “Lemme take care of you.”

His touch is like a brand as his fingers press against your arm and pull. Letting yourself be led forward, you throw your head back and giggle.

“Oh honey,” you sigh, lips pulled in a devilish smile, a solitary finger trailing down his chest as you back him against the wall, “But who’s going to take care of you?” _

Whatever’s between you, this infection, this thing, it’s desperate and wild. Alive and howling for respite, primal even. Steve lets himself be pinned, lets you drag your finger to the band of his shorts. Swallowing thickly as your stomach brushes against his cock, screws his eyes shut, and thinks of baseball, cold showers, those hard candies in the stupid crystal dishes as his great-aunt’s house, the smell of mothballs, golf—

But nothing works.

Because, try as he might, Steve has thought of you in this way. In passing. Somewhat. But he tries not to, because like, he should be respectful? Robin’s always harping on about feminism and choice and sexual liberation, but truthfully, Steve mostly zones out on the cut-out of Phoebe Cates and remembers that one string bikini you have with the ties on the side.

And it doesn’t help that you despise him. How your gaze is nothing but scathing toward him and yet you're smiling at everyone else. How touchy you are with Eddie, well he is your best friend, and he guesses that makes some sense. But you’ll greet Robin with a kiss on the cheek, and wolf-whistle at Nance like all the time.

He can’t make it make sense.

Because there are times when you’re softer. Like earlier today, for example. Or when you’re worried about the kids. No one worries like you and Steve worry. So much so, that everyone calls you mom to his dad and jokes about the acrimonious divorce. He let you drive his car to the Lab, and Steve never lets anyone drive the BMW unless he’s under duress.

“I’mma do you a solid, big guy.”

Your mouth is open and panting, red and wet. You’re standing in front of him dripping in need and all Steve can do is stand there, alternately flexing his hands into fists in order to keep them to himself.

“Do wh-what? You’re not—?” Steve stammers as his teeth chatter from the growing fever. The pet name that rolled so sweetly off your tongue is certainly not helping.

“I won’t make you beg,” you say, breath ghosting along his neck. “But you won’t be able to skin me from your bones by the time I’m through with you.”

If he wasn’t already concerned about passing out from all the blood rushing to his dick, he would be by now.

He calls your name softly, sweetly, and in a frenzy. He is this close to breaking down and giving in.

“Easy, easy,” you intone, hot fingers gracing muscles pulled taut.

The silent agreement between you looms like a specter. There’s a few beats of silence–heavy breaths and shuddering gasps until goosebumps break out over his skin as you blow a cool breath against the column of his throat. A ghosting of lips against your own until, “I need you Stevie,” you plead, grinding up against him, “I’m burning up.”

He opens his eyes and nods, biting back a groan in favor of crashing his lips against your own. His tongue slides against yours, sweet and heavy with promise into the cavern of your mouth. “S’okay, honey. I got you,” he says pulling away, and the endearment pulls painfully in your chest—it shouldn’t fall so easily from his mouth and scald across your skin.

His free hand snakes along the column of your spine, freeing you from your shirt as a moan slips forth. Your briefs tumble down your legs as he backs you toward the bed, his own shorts joining them. Fevered skin meets cool sheets, a shudder rolling through you both when he brushes against the slickness smeared between your thighs.

Yanking a drawer open, Steve fumbles around for a condom while you pepper kisses and bites to his neck. Frantically, he rips the foil packet open and rolls it on, one hand pressed to your bucking hips. He exhales a shaky breath, running his dick along the seam of your cunt.

“Hey, look at me.” Your command is softer, gentler than he would’ve guessed. With one hand, you tilt his face down to see where he catches against you. A roll of your hips prompts him to slide in like he was made for you. You mention as much, as you whimper and cry beneath him.

The tether inside of him snaps in a blaze of white light. The fire stokes hotter and hotter as you let out a strangled pant, “S-Steve.”

“Yeah,” he mutters against your jaw as you clench around him. “Yes.”

It would be sweet, under any other circumstance, the way your hands grip his shoulders as his name falls from your lips. Another strangled pant, “Fuck.” He blinks the spots from his vision, God. Watches as your whole body shakes.

Inside of this inferno, a small part of Steve is awake and aware– this is wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He had a plan, goddamnit.

It’s all he can do to lick your jaw, push his tongue into your mouth, and steal the breath from your lungs before the inevitable descent. He slams into you once more and your eyes screw shut, he nearly forgets how to breathe.

You’re searing hot as he thrusts upwards. All wet lips and dazed eyes, “You were made for this.” You’re delirious now, and he is too, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Your head tips backwards against his pillow, “You were made for me.”

He groans and presses one hand beneath your navel, thumb circling your clit. The sounds coming from you are unbelievable, and he prays he’ll hear them until the day he dies. It makes him even hotter as you repeat his name like a litany, like a prayer, his hips slamming into you as your eyes screw shut.

Blindly, you drag him down by the nape of his neck. He’s slippery and slick all the way down to his thighs, and he can’t help but groan into your ear, “Gonna make it good, honey. Gonna make you mine.”

And who would’ve thought it would be Steve who could pull you apart so prettily only to stitch you right back together? You can’t help but reach the peak of your desire over and over and over again as his husky voice lilts lovingly in your ear.

All the world drops dead when you come sobbing his name. _

It’s been hours and hours, and Steve has been run ragged from all the fucking. The fever, the virus, the compulsion has been sweat out. You are passed out beside him, hogging the pillow and blanket, mouth open and drooling. There is a soreness shared by you both, there is a chance Steve may have fucked his dick raw. He drips from between your thighs, a puddle of rampant desire.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Just like that, and everything feels brand new. The world has sloughed from your shoulders and it’s just the two of you in the silence of the comedown. He lifts his head from your shoulder as you blink yourself awake and kisses you softly, with more tenderness than he knew he was capable of. You hum and lean into the kiss, into him, hands winding back into his hair and splaying against his chest. You shouldn’t feel this … content. Bubbly yet exhausted, smiling as you sponge sleepy kisses along his jaw.

Steve smiles, and he knows.

It’s fairly obvious now, to him at least, that what he mistook for loathing turned out to be love.

“So,” you whisper, nails scoring down his biceps, “You gonna keep me?”

He drags you closer, all warmth and need, until there’s not an inch of space to spare. “Depends,” he says, lips brushing against yours and allows you to swallow his voice. Kisses you stupid, only to leave you desperate for more. Steve rests his head against yours, eyes dark in the fading summer light. “You gonna let me?”

And you know, as maybe you always had.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nuzzling into his chest, head nodding with the beat of his heart, “I think I will.”

Steve releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and keeps you close.

_

[fatehbaz]

Despite its green image, Ireland has surprisingly little forest. [...] [M]ore than 80% of the island of Ireland was [once] covered in trees. [...] [O]f that 11% of the Republic of Ireland that is [now] forested, the vast majority (9% of the country) is planted with [non-native] spruces like the Sitka spruce [in commercial plantations], a fast growing conifer originally from Alaska which can be harvested after just 15 years. Just 2% of Ireland is covered with native broadleaf trees.

Text by: Martha O’Hagan Luff. “Ireland has lost almost all of its native forests - here’s how to bring them back.” The Conversation. 24 February 2023. [Emphasis added.]

---

[I]ndustrial [...] oil palm plantations [...] have proliferated in tropical regions in many parts of the world, often built at the expense of mangrove and humid forest lands, with the aim to transform them from 'worthless swamp' to agro-industrial complexes [...]. Another clear case [...] comes from the southernmost area in the Colombian Pacific [...]. Here, since the early 1980s, the forest has been destroyed and communities displaced to give way to oil palm plantations. Inexistent in the 1970s, by the mid-1990s they had expanded to over 30,000 hectares. The monotony of the plantation - row after row of palm as far as you can see, a green desert of sorts - replaced the diverse, heterogenous and entangled world of forest and communities.

Text by: Arturo Escobar. "Thinking-Feeling with the Earth: Territorial Struggles and the Ontological Dimension of the Epistemologies of the South." Revista de Antropologia Iberoamericana Volume 11 Issue 1. 2016. [Emphasis added.]

---

But efforts to increase global tree cover to limit climate change have skewed towards erecting plantations of fast-growing trees [...] [because] planting trees can demonstrate results a lot quicker than natural forest restoration. [...] [But] ill-advised tree planting can unleash invasive species [...]. [In India] [t]o maximize how much timber these forests yielded, British foresters planted pines from Europe and North America in extensive plantations in the Himalayan region [...] and introduced acacia trees from Australia [...]. One of these species, wattle (Acacia mearnsii) [...] was planted in [...] the Western Ghats. This area is what scientists all a biodiversity hotspot – a globally rare ecosystem replete with species. Wattle has since become invasive and taken over much of the region’s mountainous grasslands. Similarly, pine has spread over much of the Himalayas and displaced native oak trees while teak has replaced sal, a native hardwood, in central India. Both oak and sal are valued for [...] fertiliser, medicine and oil. Their loss [...] impoverished many [local and Indigenous people]. [...]

India’s national forest policy [...] aims for trees on 33% of the country’s area. Schemes under this policy include plantations consisting of a single species such as eucalyptus or bamboo which grow fast and can increase tree cover quickly, demonstrating success according to this dubious measure. Sometimes these trees are planted in grasslands and other ecosystems where tree cover is naturally low. [...] The success of forest restoration efforts cannot be measured by tree cover alone. The Indian government’s definition of “forest” still encompasses plantations of a single tree species, orchards and even bamboo, which actually belongs to the grass family. This means that biennial forest surveys cannot quantify how much natural forest has been restored, or convey the consequences of displacing native trees with competitive plantation species or identify if these exotic trees have invaded natural grasslands which have then been falsely recorded as restored forests. [...] Planting trees does not necessarily mean a forest is being restored. And reviving ecosystems in which trees are scarce is important too.

Text by: Dhanapal Govindarajulu. "India was a tree planting laboratory for 200 years - here are the results." The Conversation. 10 August 2023. [Emphasis added.]

---

Nations and companies are competing to appropriate the last piece of available “untapped” forest that can provide the most amount of “environmental services.” [...] When British Empire forestry was first established as a disciplinary practice in India, [...] it proscribed private interests and initiated a new system of forest management based on a logic of utilitarian [extraction] [...]. Rather than the actual survival of plants or animals, the goal of this forestry was focused on preventing the exhaustion of resource extraction. [...]

Text by: Daniel Fernandez and Alon Schwabe. "The Offsetted." e-flux Architecture (Positions). November 2013. [Emphasis added.]

---

At first glance, the statistics tell a hopeful story: Chile’s forests are expanding. […] On the ground, however, a different scene plays out: monocultures have replaced diverse natural forests [...]. At the crux of these [...] narratives is the definition of a single word: “forest.” [...] Pinochet’s wave of [...] [laws] included Forest Ordinance 701, passed in 1974, which subsidized the expansion of tree plantations [...] and gave the National Forestry Corporation control of Mapuche lands. This law set in motion an enormous expansion in fiber-farms, which are vast expanses of monoculture plantations Pinus radiata and Eucalyptus species grown for paper manufacturing and timber. [T]hese new plantations replaced native forests […]. According to a recent study in Landscape and Urban Planning, timber plantations expanded by a factor of ten from 1975 to 2007, and now occupy 43 percent of the South-central Chilean landscape. [...] While the confusion surrounding the definition of “forest” may appear to be an issue of semantics, Dr. Francis Putz [...] warns otherwise in a recent review published in Biotropica. […] Monoculture plantations are optimized for a single product, whereas native forests offer [...] water regulation, hosting biodiversity, and building soil fertility. [...][A]ccording to Putz, the distinction between plantations and native forests needs to be made clear. “[...] [A]nd the point that plantations are NOT forests needs to be made repeatedly [...]."

Text by: Julian Moll-Rocek. “When forests aren’t really forests: the high cost of Chile’s tree plantations.” Mongabay. 18 August 2014. [Emphasis added.]

[vaos-studios]

Collection of warm up doodles with 2.0 Chip and Spruce I made recently! and a fish Chip. as a treat

I also have a confession to make: Treekiller is my favorite manager—bet you thought it was Dave or something but no it’s this weirdo (he needs more love please god I’d give anything I’d give ANYTHING

( long) Deadwood brothers info:

This is roughly what they looked like straight out the upgrade! The Mechanical Unit was instructed to hold Chip under observation for an extended period of time, as he was labeled dangerous due to the new Override. He came out a wreck—both physically and emotionally. There was oil and debris all over him (his hat took most of the damage) and was experiencing some side-effects from the operation. By the time Chip was released the other managers had already left. Except for Spruce, who had waited for him the entire time.

(The Mechanical Unit / M.U is the place holder name for the team responsible for performing the upgrade)

Spruce’s 2.0 upgrade includes sharper teeth and a built-in shredder! He was very hyped about this

He’s now the co-leader and main enforcer of the “Deforestation and Demolition Project” in Acorn Acres. He’s responsible for enforcing Chips orders and manages the project on-site.

His battle is located in Acorn Acres redwood forests, and is only accessible at night.

The Treekiller now operates on an RPM system! He gains significantly less RPM than Chip, but the more RPM he gains the more damage he takes. Part of Chip’s strategy is to prevent him from gaining too much RPM and triggering “Deadwood,” but in this case it’s the opposite. And if RPM reaches below a certain level, Treekiller’s version of Deadwood, named “Bury the Hatchet,” will trigger.

But I can’t help but notice he looks different than his first 2.0 reveal… 🤔 More info on Spruce 2.0 coming soon.

I may or may not have realized that I’m making Chip relive the worst thing that’s ever happened to him (which was not my intention believe it or not)

Chip actually rejected the upgrade at first, telling Robert in person that he did not want to proceed with this change. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his decision to make—or any of the managers’. Robert made it clear this was going to happen, whether Chip agreed to or not.

and promise I’m gonna get to the asks and mini 2.0 comic strips, it might get pushed back to next week however

[fanficsdumpomg]

Brozone x Reader (As Parents Headcanons)

John Dory:

*John Dory always dreamed of starting a family of his own during his young adult years but after brozone broke up and him hiking/adventuring the last decade that dream seemed further and further away.

*All that changed when he met you during his travels you too had a meet cute and after some slow burn you had finally gotten together! Suddenly John Dory felt a little less alone in his life, with his brothers back you both discussed starting your family together, and while you weren't actively trying; John was excited

*Which leads you to today, when you had woken up you discovered a turquoise egg with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*John was ecstatic when you told him, to say the least, already planning many family adventures for your family.

*During the egg's nesting cycle you will have to fight this man to hold your child, he will constantly be bringing the egg everywhere and anywhere showing them new sights and smells. Also likes showing off the egg to other trolls, Like a toddler saying look at this cool thing i made!

*His bro's got him some dad-themed merchandise i.e. coffee cup that says world's best dad, a t-shirt that says which says soon-to-be dad which he wears with pride.

*Once the egg does hatch, he is going to be emotional all day.

*Y'all have a daughter who has his skin color and your (H/C).

*John Dory and you are pretty mellow parents, you let your kid do whatever as long as they are not breaking any laws/committing genocide/murder.

_________________________________________

Spruce:

*Bruce never had dreams of starting a family of his own, he was content with his life and when Brozone broke up he was content to go find a new purpose with his life.

*And that's when he met, you! You were a troll working for Brandi on Vacay Island and when she introduced the two of you, you hit it off and formed a relationship.

*Y'all were content with your lives and not looking to add anything else in the mix but all that changed when you woke up one morning with not one but two turquoise/purple eggs with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*Bruce was nervous, you were nervous; what if you weren't ready to be parents? But Brandi and the other vacay islanders were there to assure you that no matter what they would be there to support you and be your family in this next stage.

*You both traded off in nesting the eggs, Bruce would take mornings and noon to let you rest and you would take afternoons and evenings to let Bruce rest.

*Bruce loves talking/snuggling to the eggs during his shifts. even though the little trolls had yet to be born he wanted them to know how much he loved them and that they'd always be a family no matter what

*When the eggs hatch, y'all are going to be swarmed with two hyperactive boy babies but honestly, you and Bruce wouldn't change anything and actually start trying for more once the twins have grown a little.

*Y'all Rock those Milf and Dilf vibes

_________________________________________________

Clay:

*Clay plans his life down to the very last scenario, even during his "fun boy" days he always planned on meeting the "one" and having a couple of trollings.

*Clay and you had met when he joined Putt-Putt village, you escaped with viva during the troll's escape from Bergen town. You and him had hit it off and with a little push from Viva you two had finally gotten together

*Clay and you are married for a year before you start actively trying for trollings.

*After a couple of months you both had given up hope of having trollings, I mean the other villagers could do it so easily why couldn't you??

*However your bad luck turned around when one day after waking up you noticed a bulging knot in your hair. Two small turquoise/lime green eggs with your (H/C) were nesting in your hair.

*Clay and you were ecstatic!! So was everyone in Putt-Putt Village; your small family finally felt complete.

*Clay is super annoying during the egg's nesting period, constantly following you around to protect you, limiting what kind of work you can do, how much rest you get, and what you eat. Honestly, you're pretty fed up with this man after this.

*When you're resting, he likes to keep the eggs safe in his hair. Man is like a feral dog with a piece of meat, will not let anyone near his eggs not even Viva; he will growl.

*Finally after a long two months, you're twins finally hatched! Two turquoise girls with your (H/C).

*Clay is definitely the strict parent, those protective instincts that arose during the eggs' nesting time are amplified to 100%. You are totally the girl's fun parent. Despite the differences in your parenting the girls love and respect the both of you!

________________________________________________________

Floyd:

*Floyd like his older brother had always wanted to start a family but that became like a distant dream after Brozone broke up, starting his solo career, and getting kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer.

*After his eventual rescue and recovery with Branch in Troll Village, he met you; a friend of Poppy's.

*Poppy saw how hard the two of you were crushing on each other and pushed the two of you together which led to your eventual dating and marriage!

*A month after the marriage, to your surprise; you had found a turquoise/red egg with your (H/C) nestling in your hair.

*You were ecstatic but Floyd was nervous. He had always wanted to have a child but what if he screwed up his relationship with them like he did with Branch.

*But after some gentle reassurances from his brothers, Poppy and Viva; he felt ready to take on this next phase of his life albeit anxiously.

*Cries every time he receives gifts for the baby, cries when he feels the egg kick inside its shell, and cries every day about how lucky he is. Man is taking all the emotions during the incubating period.

"Floyd would be too nervous to nest the egg in his hair so you would be the main nester for the duration of the incubation period.

*When the hatching day is here, Floyd is a bubbling mess. Cries throughout the entire day but those are happy tears that your baby is finally and your family is complete.

*Y'all have a healthy boy troll with your (H/C). Your baby is so chill too, rarely cries and loves to play and giggle

*As your child grows, Floyd is definitely the parent who would let the child get away with everything. You are going to have to be the rule-setter.

_________________________________________________

Branch:

*Branch has been alone for a long time, his brothers left him and his grandma had gotten eaten trying to protect him from a Bergen. So he had a deep desire to recreate the feeling of family he had once lost.

*But you had always been by his side since you two were you and through everything so it makes sense about the major crushes you two had on each other.

*After regaining his colors, Branch finally had the confidence to ask you out and you happily accepted; (even though you loved Branch no matter what).

*Y'all dated for a couple years and then were married before he discussed wanting children with you. To his surprise and excitement, you too had also wanted to have kids.

*So began your journey of trying for little trollings.

*A year after getting married you were surprised and excited to spot three turquoise/blue eggs with your (H/C) nesting in the knot in your hair.

* Branch goes feral during the nesting time. you will have to fight/argue with him to leave the bunker because he will try to keep you down during the nesting period.

*Will growl at anyone who comes near you and the eggs; only lets his brothers and poppy (with supervision) come around and see you and the eggs.

*Branch loves to carry the eggs in his hair when you need a break. Spends time talking/reading to them and telling them how much he loves them and can't wait to meet them.

*Poppy, Viva, and his brothers throw a baby shower for y'all and while Branch cringes at the dad-themed merchandise he is gifted, he secretly loves them and wears them all the time around the bunker with pride.

*Then when hatching day comes along, Branch is in a panic. What if he wasn't a good dad, what if they hate him?? But after he sees his little trollings, those worries dissipate.

*Y'all have two healthy boys and one healthy girl.

*Branch's protective instincts go from 100% to 10000% after the trolls are born. Your children definitely have Branch wrapped around their fingers and can get anything if they look cute or beg hard enough.

__________________________________________

[rivalswrites]

Rivals characters react to your dog!

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

How Rivals characters react to you(reader) having a dog fight with you! (Maybe like a tracking dog, but breed not specified. Dog is referred to as big, and the gender changes randomly)

Dog will be named Spruce as a placeholder

The relationship between the character and you is not specified, though implied romantic.

(First post, kinda nervous) Masterlist

Warnings for mentions of semi-canon violence

It was during down time, that he met Spruce. She was running around and probably playing with a butterfly or something before she set her eyes on him. Making a beeline for the shiny man that almost glowed like the sun in the light.

Spruce ran circles around him, a little too quick for his attention to keep on her exact location. He hadn't come in contact with a dog before or knew much about them, though he knew they existed- he probably mistook her for another animal from space.

When you had shown up and apologized for her unmatchable energy, explaining it's just a dog thing (zoomies, he really liked that word). He took Spruce’s energy with stride, happily willing to play with her on down time and even- on occasion- during training. While Flerkin’s were adorable, Spruce had wormed her way into his big heart and sat down to stay.

Overall: He really enjoys Spruce's company, and will use his free time to play with her and give her treats (even going behind your back sometimes do to so)

Natasha knew you had a dog, hearing Clint talk about it, but she'd never had the opportunity to meet either of you. She had finally got her chance when she was at the training ground, taking down bots. Spruce had come up from behind and taken one of her batons, running away before she could catch the thief in the act.

Trying to get it back was a lost cause, she knew this, she knew how dogs were. But she tried anyway. It didn't take long for you to come running and haggle Spruce into dropping the baton and apologetically handed it back to her (after whipping the slobber off with your sleeve). She thought it was sort of cute.

Now she always watches over her batons, when she knows Spruce is around, but she doesn't hold a grudge for the less than desired first meet. She thinks it's funny to be honest, and brings it up often when lounging around with you and Spruce.

In all honesty she has a guilty pleasure in watching Spruce and you run around the map, but would never admit that.

Overall: She loves the dog like her own. The two of you train her while on down time, though it's mostly playing catch now rather than training

The first meeting was- not at all ideal. It was during a match, and the two of you were on opposite sides of the fight. Though there's no bad blood between either of you now, it's an embarrassing story to recall because he totally got mauled by little ‘ol Spruce.

After the match he had found you and (with hesitation) Spruce. You apologized for how violent it ended up being, but he brushed it off and told you it's all good. No harm truly done, and it's definitely not the worst he's had, which you definitely believed.

He found the strength and bond between you and your dog admirable, seeing as it seemed unbreakable. The amount of trust you had for an animal was something he thought he'd never understand, and maybe he won't.

He likes to relax after matches with you, sitting somewhere quiet with Spruce sprawled over both your laps- basically begging for some praise after the match (which he gives into, because who can say no to those big beady eyes).

Overall: He doesn't mind Spruce, as long as he stays away during matches so he can concentrate fully. The same goes for you, though he won't say that.

It all began when you first joined the fight against the Doom’s, not really catching Hela’s eye- though she did acknowledge your existence.

Spruce had taken a liking to her, running over to see her whenever not on duty/fighting. She didn't mind, nor really pay attention, until you kept coming up and apologizing while calling Spruce over. But Spruce was determined, she wanted Hela to acknowledge her too and she'd be damned if she didn't get her attention.

Hela was nothing but happy at this little dog's devotion to wanting her attention, it's so hard to find good minions nowadays. She takes Spruce’s devotion as your devotion as well, seeing as wherever Spruce is you follow (and vice versa).

While it's hard to tell what Hela is feeling, due to how neutral she is about a lot of things, devout minions make her happy, thus you and Spruce make her happy. And yes, she does use you two as human shields during matches, as all good minions would do

Overall: She tells you she doesn't care for Spruce, simply just being your pet. But in actuality she loves Spruce, he reminds her of a fierce warrior and tells you you've trained him well.

When she first met Spruce, he had come up to her and started tugging at her outfit while on down time. She was at first confused, for obvious reasons, and easily used a little magic to get the dog to unhand her. Watching as the dog sat down and stared at her with his big, beady eyes.

Soon after, you ran over and apologized, explaining to her that you were just practicing his skills to make sure they were up to standard for matches, which she admired. Nodding in approval while still keeping an eye on the dog that was now looking at you expectantly- it's tail thumping on the ground rapidly.

You took a treat out of your pocket and offered it to her, asking if she wanted to give it to Spruce. She looked at you, then your hand, then to Spruce- who was now trained on your outstretched hand. With an ever gentle smile, she took the treat and knelt down, letting Spruce come to her and gently take the treat.

She wasn't one for animals, but for you she could make an exception. Often she could find herself admiring not only you, but the ever lively Spruce on the field or during training, and eventually could only think of how cute he was when she looked at him.

Overall: She can happily say she enjoys the company of Spruce, almost as much as she enjoys your company.

He had first seen Spruce while in battle. Same side, thankfully. Spruce had run past him, with you quickly following her, into a tunnel. It wasn't anything special or impressive to him, so he didn't understand why he decided to stare at the tunnel while he still had some poor person to take care of in the blades of his claws.

After finishing his business, he took towards the tunnel, observing as you bent down to give the big dog some pats while completely unnerved by some nerds body almost right underneath you. He wondered if it was yours, or the dogs doing.

Honestly, he didn't pay Spruce much mind in the beginning, only looking at you during down time or training (sometimes even during matches). But alas, he knew the two of you were a pair, and that was non negotiable.

Soon, he took up the offer you made ages ago on helping you train and hone Spruce's skills. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a pretty harsh bite, almost ripping the flesh of his arm off before you called her off. He reassured you it wasn't a big deal when you had apologized.

Overall: He doesn't mind Spruce at all, and tells you he simply tolerates her for your sake. But you can sometimes find him patting her in the head after a match well won.

[eldritch-spouse]

Last night I dreamt about Mooncalf. He kept luring me into his pocket realm by stealing shit I needed and leaving it in there. I had to negotiate a way out by offering to bring in cool trinkets he liked and decorate the realm with them (and also sexual favours) and promises to come back and visit.

[Two lint balls from your pocket and a half-assed handjob.]

" Come on. You know I'm right. You want the brass cow figurine. I've seen you look at it, in fact, I don't even know why you haven't taken it yet! "

The fae's head cracks and twitches like clockwork for a few seconds. Your phone, still in that pudgy hand, is raised in the air.

" You would not come looking for the cow, or would you now? "

Maybe. Well, yes. It was a gift from an old friend of yours. There's meaning behind it, you know they explained it once, but for the life of you it's hard to recall specifics when your slab of digital identity is in the hands of an unpredictable menace.

" Eventually. "

He squints, smile creeping higher.

" That's not the point though! I mean, just look at this place, dude- "

You prepare to put on your most competent salesman hat. More like greasy snake oil merchant hat.

Mooncalf does look around, not getting your point. He twists his body one half at a time, probably just to creep you out.

" Yes? "

Having gotten familiar with Mooncalf's pocket space by now, you know he's a big fan of fields with absolutely nothing in them. A tree or two, flowers, small woodland critters. All of this seems to stretch on for endless miles, under the comforting warmth of a sunny day that's just too perfect. The closest thing to a house you've seen here is the ever changing cottage, which while always cozy, is a tad barebones. Probably because no one else is living here, except your unceremoniously kidnapped self and the uncanny apparitions of things no longer humanoid looming in the faraway shadows.

There must be wiggle room here. If Mooncalf craves certain things, why can't you negotiate with him?

" You need to spruce things up. No decorations, no paintings, no personal items- This place doesn't look lived in, Mooncalf! "

The words ring across the air, echoing as if to accentuate the point. They sit there, the monster tasting your argument for a couple of eerily still moments.

" I see I see... "

Then, all at once, the world shifts beneath your feet, nearly stealing away your balance as the surroundings become the picture of disgusting opulence. Like a dragon's nest, treasures of all shiny, colorful and interesting variety are scattered around, framing a large red throne which he sits upon. Admittedly, a good portion of these things would give you pause if you encountered them more naturally.

" Ah, but look, a gem in every nook! "

Shaking your head, you wag a finger at the fae. You're not completely clueless, after all.

" Nice try, but I know this setting isn't really what you like. "

The comment alone makes his gaze snap to yours, toes curling, tickled pink that you'd know his preferences already.

" Besides, none of this is real. You didn't get them, they're illusions. "

Daringly, confident in your assumption, you reach for an expensive-looking bust. It's lighter than it should be. You look into those jeweled eyes and, like a cat knocking cups off a balcony, simply let it drop. As soon as it tunks onto the ground, it dents, integrity damaged enough that the object steadily turns into this twinkling dust. In seconds, an invisible breeze blows it away altogether.

You gesture to the display, as if the fae doesn't know his own tricks.

" I can give you the real goods. Even things you don't know I have lying around. Just let me out, with my phone, and I'll show you. "

The scenario falls apart, Mooncalf apparently not too keen on maintaining subpar illusions. You're back to the fields in a couple of blinks. The large fae marches to stand millimeters away from your face. You'd like it more if he kept his wide burning eyes to himself.

" Trade you? For goods? "

He leans in further, forcing you to bend back slightly.

" Not every gift will make me shift, you know? "

Your skin pebbles. What is it that you have, that is truly worth a fae's attention? That is equal to you in value?

" I'll- I'll still visit! " It doesn't seem to do much to placate Mooncalf. " Just- Okay, let's start with this. If you let me out for a while, I'll give you the cow figurine. "

" Not enough. " He quickly shuts down.

A pause follows. You think. Well and truly hard, you think about anything he might want right now. The way he looks at you, messes with you, obviously there's some kind of twisted fae-like affection in his actions...

" Blowjob. "

His shoulders tense, face jerking from one side to the other. A hand is held up to where his ears might be. " What was that? "

" Blowjob. And the figurine. " Your face could not be any hotter.

The words sink in and he belts back to cackle, clapping -Where did your phone go?- hopping from one clawed foot to the other.

" Surreal! Surreal! "

Something starts pulling you to your knees.

" Sounds like a deal. "

[princess-ibri]

Ok I did some more Live Action redesigns xD

Of course I had to redesign Belle's ballgown, but I wanted to see if I could take the shape of it from the film and at least give it some more ✨️Magic✨️, and I think I've succeeded:)

I kinda did the same with her village dress too. I actually kinda liked the look in the film, it was at least memorable, so I just made it a little more period, added a proper bodice, changed that random side cloth out for a pocket and cuz I loved that she had glasses in that one stage version gave her a pair here as well

For her winter screen I gave her a more voluminous cloak to actually keep the cold out (also some Red RidingHood vibes) and gave a nod to her Enchanted Christmas look in the dress she has underneath.

Also always liked that green dress on her, so decided to have some fun and switch it up to being the one she leaves and returns to the castle in. Green for new beginnings and to tie into the Enchantress's magic that's about to be broken and all that

Also spruced up her wedding dress. I actually think the movie one is very lovely but it doesn't really stand out/feel like it fits the time period, so I jazzed it up.

Also I've been spinning a tiny rewrite idea round in my head. If they wanted to delve into Belle's mom's past/give Maurice a real reason for keeping her death a mystery (like seriously, why does he do that) I think they should go back to the og fairytale and have Belle's mom be a fairy.

Either have her connected to the Enchantress (friend, sister) or heck have her be the Enchantress like in the Twisted Tales (not what I'd pick myself but it lends to a tighter narrative) and have Maurice feel guilt for doing whatever happened that caused her inadvertent death/separation---and this could tie back in to Belle and her own complicated relationship with hwr magical being

Have that magic book (if it must be there) show people's pasts instead of being a transportion device Belle doesn't even use to get to her dad. It's meant for the Beast to reflect on his prior actions, but Belle also uses it to discover what happened with her mother.

Also give that poor Beast a proper canon name. I waited the whole movie and he never got a name!!

[artsninspo]

004 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 003

♠ authors note: the first part of this chapter was meant to be at the end of 003, I hope it doest interrupt your reading flow.

♠ summary: Mr. Richmond and Lorence have their meeting. This ones messy 🌪️.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.2K

⌖ - St. Moritz, Switzerland

I send Joel a text and meet him on the enclosed rooftop. The view is one of one.

“You really know how to get under the boss's skin kid” he sighs, swirling around whisky in his glass.

“What I do”

“I had orders to inform you of our discussion. Now Rich thinks I didn’t speak to you”

“Sorry, I was cornered in an elevator”

“Well, face him sooner than later. Rip off the bandaid” Joel sighs.

“How was today? How many calls?” I ask.

“Thirty inquiries,” he smiles. “Even if the boss only chooses fifteen new contracts, that's a nice check for our team. I’m telling you you’re a natural.” Joel says but he’s always had faith in me.

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got you in trouble”

“I know, you know I love you kid don’t worry about it” he sighs getting up.

“Get some sleep” he says standing with a hand outreached for me. We make our back to the rooms and he walks me to mine. I send my loved ones goodnight messages and drift away.

…

Unfortunately I rise early without being well rested. The clock reads its five thirty in the morning. My internal alarm is so well set that there’s no resistance even abroad. Discipline keeps me going through the motions instead of motivation because there's a huge lack of that. My nerves skyrocket and I decide to stick to my routine. I reconsider using the gym today and have the equipment I need brought to me in my room. I’ll buy all the time in the world not to bump into him before nine. For the first time in my adult life meditation doesn’t bring me clarity. It’s unsettling and I wonder how Mr. Richmond rattles me so deeply. From our first meeting there was some friction. I’d spent a few weeks hearing Joel sing his praises while my colleagues of the fairer sex ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’ about how handsome he was. When he walked onto our floor a hush cut across the cubicles. All I could see then was his complexion, a side profile of facial hair and curls. The minute he was in his office a frenzy started all around me. Everyone was preparing presentations and reports just-in-case. Then there was the constant flow of colleagues into the ladies room to spruce themselves up. The lipstick tubes were being twisted, powder patted one, lashes curled, blowouts scheduled during lunch the whole nine yards.

That first time in Mr. Richmonds office was the only occasion I wasn’t rattled with nerves but it didn't last long. It was the Boss, his barber, Joel and myself. He glared at Joel before looking at me with a dissatisfied expression and outreaching his hand. There wasn’t a welcome or any fanfare, just a hello. His grip was firm and his hands far larger than mine radiating heat without being clammy. I sat there waiting my turn to speak as Joel presented my findings. I watched as Richmond was transformed from scruffy operative to the clean cut CEO right before my eyes. Still I kept my composure and presented my findings. Mr. Richmonds disposition then turned antagonistic as he probed and probed and probed trying to find fault with my research concepts. When there were none to be found he didn't smile and end the angry boss charade like I'd hoped. He gave a curt nod and told me it was good work in a flat tone.

Since then, I’ve given him a wide breadth at every opportunity. I’ve passed up on several opportunities to be in his presence and rub shoulders with him. It’s been almost three years and I don't understand why things have to change now. I’ve enjoyed maintaining a professional distance and avoiding his tirades. Increased proximity will surely erode all of the defences I had set in place and that's not what I need. I quit my morning meditations prematurely and decide on a walk outdoors hoping the movement will help clear my head, hoping the cold will bring some clarity but it doesn't. I return inside and skip breakfast opting for a hot steamy shower. The bathroom gets as cloudy as my thoughts. I turn on the dehumidifying fan and wipe the mirror. The eyes staring back at me are swimming with uneasiness, a deer in the headlights. Not liking my reflection I get my outfit ready for the day. I do my body care routine before my make-up and then slip into my outfit before letting down my hair.

Business, bombshell, barbie; is what it’s giving today. It's a ruse, a fake it till you make it, moment. Maybe if I present like the admins he won't see me as a contender for the director position. Fastening my watch on my wrist I see I have thirty minutes to spare. I make my way to his office for the interim. I walk over to the elevator and get in, hitting the button up one floor. One of my colleagues walks in with red eyes as I exit.

“Good luck” he swallows letting me know Richmond is on a warpath. I send him a sympathetic look making my way to where his secretary is stationed.

“Gordon” I greet and she smiles.

“I’ve told you a million times, call me Cassandra,” she smiles.

“Cassandra,” I amend.

“Lorence,” she smiles. “I hear I’ll be seeing a lot more of you - I’m excited there’s wayyy too much testosterone and serious characters among the executives” she whispers in a dark denim tailored canadian tuxedo.

“Where’d you hear that?” I ask and she rolls her eyes.

“I know everything” she winks, a stiletto nail on full display as she taps her temple with her pointer finger. It’s a cloak and dagger maneuver - Cassandra’s sharper than she looks and too many employees have fallen into her trap. She's Richmond Inc. Chris Hansen. Obviously there's an immense amount of trust between her and the boss.

“What’s it like working closely with Richmond?” I ask and she rolls her eyes.

“He’s a total asshole sometimes. But the man knows how to apologize well when the asshole can't be confined in that gargantuan frame” she says, openly mocking the boss. I snicker a little. “But usually he’s normal, fair, attentive, considerate,” she says. Cassandra’s the only person I’ve ever spoken to that has such a glowing review. I can't help but scoff.

“What’s that for? Has he yelled at you?” she asks, seeming genuinely upset at the prospect.

“No, I maintain my distance.” I tell her.

“Oh I know” she nods.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Terry’s noticed” she says using his first name which is a rarity in this place. I swallow hard, not excited by the revelation.

“Yay!” I remark unenthused.

Cassandra snickers. “Don’t be like that, he's good at everything he sets his mind to. I’m sure it’ll take him no time to learn the best way to work with you-” before she can say more his door opens and we look like a bunch of guilts gossips huddled close to each other with nothing more to say in his presence.

“Gordon, how do I look-” Richmonds baritone crescendos as he looks up from his watch. Cassandra and I straighten, and in an instant all the casual and playful energy is sucked out of the open space. Richmond straightens next before checking his watch.

A silent beat passes between the three of us.

“She’s early,” Cassandra quips. He swallows, sending her a glare but she doesn't cower plopping down into her seat seemingly defeated as she gets back to work.

“Cole” he steps back holding a hand out to his office. 

“Sir” I responded before leading the way. His cologne is an intoxicating mix of clean and masculine, while being a little dark. The room is large with an open concept, there are several seating arrangement options. To my surprise he motions to a sofa instead of the chair at his desk. I take my seat and he takes his, facing me, a coffee table between us. I cross my legs to the side, a habit from wearing skirts. I don’t dare look down into his sprawled legs and oversized thighs sitting in a dominant power pose. His words cross my mind again and I look him over. He looks fine, as usual. I wonder what that was about and look towards the door again. He clears his throat and I feel regret for how it probably looks as I look towards the door.

“Good morning” I greet him, trying to add some levity to the atmosphere.

“Morning” he responds, straightening slightly in his seat. “Well?” He asks.

“Well, what Sir?” I ask respectfully.

“You’ve spoken with Jameson about what’s on the table regarding your employment here. I’m here to answer any questions you may have. I’m open to discussion” he says with body language that reads anything but ‘open to discussion’.

“I was under the impression I had some time to decide,” I respond.

“Decide?” He asks like it’s absurd, like his offer is so good I shouldn’t refuse.

“My day has just started and I haven’t had time to read anything over” I add and he takes out his tablet confirming my words as truth. It only confirms he's a control freak, to be tracking email opens.

“Well then let’s do it now” he says tapping the screen and I hear the printer begin printing.

“Shouldn’t this be done in the presence of HR?” I ask and his eyes light.

“HR?” he repeats in question.

“In case I have HR specific questions…” I explain and he tosses his tablet onto the coffee table making a crash. I sit back and his nostrils flare. 

“Such as…” he responds. At a loss for words I shrug feeling like a mediator should be present already. “What’s your problem with me?” He asks.

“Your temper” I blurt out before my brain can stop me. My cantor takes him by surprise too. “I’m also insulted that instead of self-regulating you increase my therapy stipend” I add, since I’m already halfway to hell I might as well continue right?

“Self-regulating” he mutters and I’ve lit a fuse. He looks at me about going nuclear. “Get out!” he demands, his voice reverberating through the glass office. I swallow while maintaining my composure. 

“No! I’m not a dog, I won't be spoken to that way!” I stand my ground. It’s a surprise to me too. The expression in Richmonds eyes and the hard set of his jaw confirms he’s surprised and incensed.

“You’ve asked me to self-regulate but unless you get out of my face I'm going to continue to speak to you however I choose.” he says with closed eyes. 

“Finally those big ears listen” I quip going low. His eyes shoot open in shock as I get up and head to the door.

“Rescind last night’s email to Mrs. Cole” he shouts standing once I’m out of the office. “Now!” He snaps at Cassandra from behind me. I turn to face him. “You’ve overestimated your importance and outplayed your hand” he snaps and somehow his restraint feels more seething than his tirades.

“Richmond” Cassandra interjects.

“Do IT!” he shouts, blowing my eardrums. Both Cassandra and I wince.

“Do it your damn self!” I snap snatching the cords from Cassandra's docking station.

“You’re suspended.” Richmond swallows, fighting for control.

“I’ll do you one better; I QUIT” I snap giving him a taste of his own medicine slamming my phone and laptop down on the marble desk top. I hope they’re broken. I take my work pass from my hip and add it to the pile with careless abandon. 

“Lorence” Cassandra says with a soft tone.

“I’ll be out in the next hour, don't send me an off-boarding survey. I quit because the Boss is an asshole!” I add having reached my boiling point after three years of being subject to his tyranny.

“I’ll call housekeeping to help you pack and find alternative accommodations” Cassandra relents picking up her phone. 

“Thank you” I nod, swallowing hard. I cast a hateful look over my shoulder at Richmond before heading into the elevator. I swear I see the asshole smirking as the elevator doors shut. I manage to keep it together through packing up my stuff and the entire ride to the airport's hotel but once I'm in my new accommodations I bawl.

Hours later I sit in first class on my flight home and see the email is still there in my personal inbox. I left all my work items in the hotel with Cassandra in spite of her protest. Nagging guilt, curiosity and the prospect of regret makes me open the file. I put in my password fully expecting the file to go blank but it doesn’t. I swallow seeing one million dollars listed under salary along with a list of perks that would make anyone envious. Everything would be the best of the very best and a road to early retirement no doubt. I sigh, closing the document and calling for some champagne. When my flight lands I head to my parents home instead of my own to lick my wounds and recover.

game reveal: those of you who chose 2 and 5 were very much accurate. thankfully, there was no 1. No 4 either, unless you've found a spot for it. If you don't know what I'm taking about check out my page between chapters to play the games I post with us: Richmond Inc. Game & Poll

authors note: thanks to all who played and everyone who's been reading and liking, voting & commenting. What did you think about this chapter? Did you expect it to go the way it did? Are we proud of Lorence?

005 ⇛

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[somewheres-woods]

The Music We Make...

The Music We Make...

Genre: Fluff.

Pairings: Female Yautja/Human Reader.

Summary: You teach her to play the piano, but lessons can only go so far for a Yautja warrior who has little patience for delicacy.

Content Warning: Reader is not given gendered pronouns. Reader does not speak. Can be read as platonic or romantic, the perspective is vague and up to the interpreter.

A/n: Author doesn't play piano, so this may not be written accurately. No beta reader, we die like yautja.

Dun.

Plunk, plunk.

Dun.

Plunk, plunk.

Each pluck of the ivory keys, every grasping motion is executed with precision honed with years of practice under the belt. Palms faced flat down, fingers grazing over notes and sliding down towards the palm of your hand. Every cord struck raises your wrists, infinetly controlling your sound like a well-oiled machine.

Dun.

Plink, Plunk...

Plink, Dun...

A wince tugs at your facial expression at the crass, almost jarring sounds of a poorly coordinated force bearing down on the keys. Her fingers thrusting down on two keys by accident far too often. It's not her fault. Her fingers are twice the size of your own.

Her figure is nestled beside you, her thigh barely kissing yours with how close she was. She had insisted on joining you, and you certainly weren't one to reject her. Hardly anyone was. So, when she placed herself to your side, it left hardly any personal space. Personal space seemed like a foreign concept to these large predators, a luxury you sullenly kissed farewell ever since you began living amongst these warriors.

Yautja. They call themselves.

The one beside you was young, old enough to be Blooded by now. An honour that she had earned by undergoing the Trial, butchering those serpents...

The sight of those parasites still leave you waking in fits of cold sweat.

Despite being Blooded, she lacked the patience and discipline of the elder warriors you had encountered. Even her brutish peers looked like saints next to her. Headstrong and self-assured. She had the skills to back up that rugged attitude of hers as well.

Yet, no matter how many trophies she earns, no matter how her prestige grows with each successful hunt...

There's still a lot left to be desired when it comes to being a student.

"Slower." She commands. Her head still facing the piano, cautiously eyeing her own fingers as if they'd turn on her.

Dun...

...

Plunk...

...

Plunk...

She growls as she turns her head slightly, finally looking at you. "Not that slow." She hissed, her mandibles clacking behind the skull she fashioned into a helmet.

Dun...

Plunk... Plunk...

Dun...

Plunk... Plunk...

A deep rumble is pulled from her chest as she glowered at the instrument as if it only existed to undermine her. She doesn't even attempt this time. Her own stubborn refusal was her worst enemy.

She takes your hand, her scaled hands enveloping the entirety of yours as she stares down. Her scales, calloused in texture yet coloured like polished dark spruce, gently grinding against your own as a clicking growl erupts from her throat.

"It is unfair. Foolish even. My hands are not as tiny as yours. I was not built for this." She grumbles as a heaving breath of air is forced from her lungs in frustration, clearly trying to diminish her own shortcomings by saying the piano was too small.

She shoves your hand away. Her movement shockingly gentle for a change.

You have half a mind to tell her that she's throwing a tantrum like some undisciplined whelp... and you will literally have half a mind if you voice that opinion.

With a soft breath departing from your lips, you stand. The yautja female hardly noticing as she growls at the instrument that personally wronged her.

It's a stretch to wrap your arms around her from behind, the warrior stiffens as she redirects her attention to you, who has now placed your hands on top of her own. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to place your head on her shoulder to watch what you are doing. You guide her arms into the correct position, pressing your fingers down on hers. She allows you to.

She catches on quick as her arms relax to become more pliable as you play the piano through her fingers. A deep trilling purrs from within, pride in her newfound abilities to pluck the keys, to tickle the ivory.

Dun.

Plunk, plunk.

Dun.

Plunk, plunk.

When the song finishes, her mandibles click together rapidly in a chuckle, flexing her muscles to encourage you to get off. You comply, moving to her side to look at her. She remains sitting down, still relatively bigger than you despite this.

She is in a significantly better mood than she was before.

"I suppose I will have to practice." She nods as she looks down at the piano, animosity nowhere to be seen in her body language anymore.

Only anticipation.