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scary-grace · 8 months ago

Note

the boy anon spooky prompt here and it would be very cool to see it reader x shigaraki if possible. I just really like the way you write it and i think it would be interesting.

Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt! I had to go check out the movie for this one, and I agree -- it was really interesting to write! I hope you enjoy this take on it. Happy Halloween! (dividers by @cafekitsune)

d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e

You need a job and a place to hide. The Shimuras need a nanny for their five-year-old son Tenko while they take a three-month trip abroad. It's a match made in heaven -- or it would be, if it wasn't for the fact that Tenko's been dead for seventeen years, and they want you to look after a doll that looks just like him. It wouldn't take much for you to be convinced that the doll's haunted by Shimura Tenko himself. And it is haunted. Just not the way you thought. (cross-posted to Ao3)

You’ve been on and off apprehensive since you stepped off the train at Kurouzu station, and more on-apprehensive than off since the directions you printed off pointed you straight out of town, but when you actually reach the address you’re aiming for, the nerves kick into high gear. This is the Shimura family’s estate, all right. The address is right, and so is the sign. And you know the Shimuras have money, or else they wouldn’t be able to afford paying a broke twentysomething to live in their house and watch their son – but still, you weren’t expecting their house to be this huge.

It feels iffy. Is it actually iffy? Or do you just want it to be iffy because you’re into self-sabotaging and you’re nervous about babysitting a five-year-old for three months? Whether it’s iffy or not, you still need money. And somewhere to stay. And you made a promise. You take a deep breathe, then ring the doorbell.

The door opens so fast that it gives you whiplash, and you find yourself staring up at a tall, dark-haired man with fine features and a mouth that’s primed to frown. “Mr. Shimura?”

“Yes. You’re late.”

“I’m – sorry?” You stumble on the words. “I thought I was – just a few minutes –”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” A pretty, brown-haired woman appears over Mr. Shimura’s shoulder, a nervous, strained smile on her face. “Kotaro’s just a little anxious. It’s been years since we took a trip, and he’s still a little worried that something’s going to go wrong.”

“Yes,” Mr. Shimura agrees. There’s a pause. “Come inside. Tenko is quite anxious to meet you.”

Right. The kid. You put on a smile. “I’m excited to meet him too.”

The Shimuras’ house is pretty on the outside, fancy on the inside – but dark. All the curtains are drawn, and the lights aren’t bright enough to compete with shadows. It doesn’t look like the kind of house that a five-year-old lives in. You don’t know a lot of people with five-year-olds, but you’re pretty sure that five-year-olds are messier than this. There should be toys around. Or kids’ books. There should be brighter colors, better lights, maybe an open window or two. It can’t be good for Tenko to have things this dark.

What do you know? You’re not a parent. Then again, you’ll be the one responsible for Tenko for the next three months, so maybe you can make a few changes around here. You bought a book on developmental theory to read on the train, but instead you ended up watching TikTok videos until the 5G vanished. Maybe you’ll start reading it tonight after you put Tenko to bed.

“So, um –” you start, as Mrs. Shimura leads you up the stairs. “Can you tell me a little bit about what Tenko’s like? I mean, obviously I’ll ask him, but –”

“Oh, we can tell you!” Mrs. Shimura’s voice is bright. “He’s –”

“After you meet him,” Mr. Shimura interrupts from behind you. “Wait here.”

You pause, and Mr. Shimura slips past you to join Mrs. Shimura up ahead. They duck into a particular room, and you can hear them talking quietly. In the meantime, you take stock of your surroundings. The Shimura house is sparsely decorated, but on the wall opposite from you, there’s a family portrait hanging. It’s a good one. Mrs. Shimura, Mr. Shimura, and two children. The boy, the smaller one, must be Tenko. But there’s another one. A girl.

She doesn’t look that much older than Tenko. Is she old enough to go on a European tour with her parents, or is she staying with somebody else? If she’s staying with somebody else, how come Tenko isn’t staying there, too? Before you can really wind yourself up over something that’s none of your business, Mr. Shimura steps out into the hall, followed by Mrs. Shimura, who’s carrying Tenko. He must not be very heavy – she’s beckoning you forward with one hand.

“He’s a bit shy,” she says, apologetic. You have a split second to realize that something’s off about the kid’s position in her arms before she steps forward, fully into the light. “This is Tenko, our son. Say hello.”

You can’t say anything at all. All you can do is stare, because Tenko’s not a little boy like you thought he’d be. Tenko’s not a boy at all. Tenko’s a doll.

“A doll?” Manami asks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you hiss into the phone. It’s a big cordless phone, and you’ve got it pinned between your ear and shoulder as you pack and unpack your suitcase over and over again. “A big, creepy doll. Why would I lie about this?”

“I mean, I don’t think you would,” Manami says. She sounds bemused more than anything else. Maybe you need to say “creepy” again, with more emphasis. “How big is it?”

“Like, kid-sized. They put it on the bed at night.” You can’t think of the whole bizarre ritual Mr. and Mrs. Shimura demonstrated for you without feeling like you’ve lost your mind. “They have a daily routine for it – I’m supposed to wake it up in the morning, and take it out of its pajamas and put it in its clothes and make it breakfast –”

“Why do you have to make it breakfast? Dolls don’t eat.”

“I know dolls don’t eat. Everybody and their mother knows dolls don’t eat! Even little kids only fake-feed their dolls.” You want to scream. “But they want me to make it breakfast. And play music for it. And read aloud to it – and make it lunch and dinner and read it a bedtime story like it’s a real kid. I’m even supposed to give it a goodnight kiss.”

“But it’s not a real kid,” Manami says. You hit your head against the bedpost, producing a hollow thunk. “Why do they have you taking care of a doll like it’s a real kid? Do they even have real kids?”

“They do. Did.” You wouldn’t let the Shimuras leave without giving you an answer about that one, and because they really wanted you to stay and look after their creepy doll for three months, they didn’t screw around. “Two of them. Tenko – the one they named the doll after – and an older girl named Hana. They both died in an accident seventeen years ago.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Manami sounds like she’s tearing up. You probably would have teared up, too, if the Shimuras hadn’t told you that after they’d handed you the creepy doll they named after their dead son. “They lost both their kids at once? I would go crazy too.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t,” you say. “Not all the way. There’s only one doll.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Manami admits. “Why wouldn’t they make one for Hana too?”

“It gets weirder. Hana has a shrine. I’m supposed to take care of it.” That’s the least weird part of your job. If all you were doing was taking care of shrines to the Shimuras’ dead kids, you’d be perfectly happy. “They don’t have a shrine for Tenko. And the only picture they have of him is in this big family portrait on the wall.”

“Huh,” Manami says slowly. “Rich people are weird.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” you ask, exasperated. “Rich people are weird?”

“They are. Poor people wouldn’t make a life-sized doll of their dead kid and pay somebody to take care of it like it’s alive,” Manami says. You think she’s probably right. You’re poor, and if you had a kid who died, you – well, you don’t know what you’d do. You definitely wouldn’t do that. “Does it look like him?”

“Yeah. Creepily like him.” When you were racing upstairs to drop the doll on the bed and lock it in, you were unnerved enough to stop by the family portrait and check. “And creepily accurate, size-wise. Like, if you didn’t look too hard, you’d think he was real.”

“He is real,” Manami says, and you almost drop the phone. “I mean, the doll is real.”

“Right.” The doll is a little too real for your taste. “I think I meant alive.”

“That’s creepy,” Manami says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You called her looking for validation, and you got it. You should have expected her to ask for details first. You would have. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they aren’t true. “I can’t leave, either. I need the money. And I need to be – away. For a little while at least. Until everybody forgets.”

“Until he forgets,” Manami says. Your ex-boyfriend, everybody. He’s so popular in town that they might as well be the same thing. “He came around last night looking for you. Danjuro told him off.”

You were already on edge over the doll thing, but that piece of news soaks you in an instant cold sweat. “Did he say anything?”

“Danjuro or Keigo? Danjuro would never,” Manami says, offended. You try to pace your breathing, praying you won’t hyperventilate. “Keigo said he was just worried about you, because he didn’t see you come to work yesterday – and when he asked everyone said you’d quit – so he thought he’d stop by –”

“Fuck.” If you could go back in time and give your past self one piece of advice, it would be to send the town’s youngest police chief in history packing when he asked if he could buy you a drink. That one bad decision spiraled into a nightmare you’re still struggling to escape. “I don’t understand. What is it going to take to make him stop?”

“You’re doing the smart thing. Going away, letting things die down,” Manami says. “I know this new place is creepy, but you picked it for a good reason. They’ll pay you cash, so Keigo can’t trace your cards. It’s a small town off the map, so it’ll be hard for him to find –”

“And I’m supposed to spend all day playing house with creepy Tenko, so no one will be able to tell him they saw me.” You’ll wear a disguise if you have to go out into town. Now that you know Keigo’s still looking for you, you need to be even more careful. “I just wish I wasn’t stuck here. And I wish it was a real kid.”

“Real kids pee their pants and cry,” Manami says practically, and you manage a wheeze of laughter. You knew talking to Manami would make you feel better, even if nothing has changed. “Trust me. You’re better off with the doll.”

You might be better off with the doll than a real kid, but for the first week or so of your stay in the Shimura house, you neglect doll Tenko in a way that real Tenko would never have let you get away with. Real Tenko probably wouldn’t have put up with being locked in his room all day, or being fed breakfast at two pm because you stayed up late and slept in later the night before. And real Tenko definitely wouldn’t have tolerated being schlepped around feet-up because you don’t like having his scary porcelain face so close to yours.

Then again, real Tenko probably didn’t like listening to classical music at max volume, either. Real Tenko’s also been dead for seventeen years. It’s probably safe to stop worrying about what real Tenko would think of how you deal with his freaky little homunculus counterpart.

Whenever you’re not conspicuously ignoring Tenko’s schedule, you’re getting to know the rest of the Shimura house – and outside it, the Shimura estate. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that you have a hard time imagining how anything in Europe could measure up, and when the weather allows it you spend a lot of time outdoors, poking around on the trails that cover the property and watching whatever animals wander by. The animals here aren’t very scared of people. The Shimuras probably don’t allow hunting on their property, and based on what the mailman does when he stops by every afternoon, nobody in town likes coming near the property for too long.

One person does, though. The Shimuras let you know that somebody comes by to deliver groceries – and bring your payment – once a week, and you’re coming back from a walk on a grey, foggy day when you see him. He’s balancing four grocery bags in one arm and trying to unlock the door with the other. You hurry forward. “Here, let me get that. I’m sorry.”

“I rang the bell.” The delivery guy’s face is completely concealed by the pile of grocery bags he’s toting. “No answer.”

“Yeah, I was out for a walk.”

“I thought you were supposed to stay inside. You know, since Tenko’s allergic to the air the rest of us breathe.” The delivery guy steps through the door after you unlock it, then drops the bags on the kitchen table and looks around. “Where is the kid, anyway? He’s usually attached to Mrs. Shimura at the hip.”

“He’s, uh, taking a nap.” You look the delivery guy up and down, noting blue eyes and spiky white hair, along with some burn scars and a ton of facial piercings. “I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Touya.” He holds out a hand to shake, and you copy him as you introduce yourself. “Yeah, Mrs. Shimura mentioned that someone new was coming, but I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. They’ve tried out a lot of nannies, but Tenko’s kind of picky. Or so I hear.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask. Touya’s eyebrows lift. “We are talking about the same Tenko here, right?”

“The d-o-l-l? That’s right,” Touya says. You give him the weirdest look you can manage on short notice. “Yeah. The Shimuras get pissy if we don’t talk about him like he’s real, so we all got in the habit. You will, too, if you’re here long enough.”

“We,” you repeat. “How many of you are there?”

“Me and my siblings. The Shimuras hire us to do stuff,” Touya says. “The weekly deliveries are usually my thing, but Fuyumi or Natsuo might fill in sometimes, since they can drive, too. Fuyumi helps with their garden in the summers and Natsuo does maintenance shit. I won’t bring the brat out here until it’s time to chop firewood. One of these days I’ll get lucky and he’ll lose a limb.”

You think Touya’s joking. You’re not sure. “Which one’s the brat?”

“Shoto. My baby brother. Daddy’s favorite.” Touya scoffs. “He gets all the pocket money he wants. He doesn’t even need to work, but does he let that stop him? No. He makes me drag him out here anyway –”

Touya breaks off, glances at you. “Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah.” You have siblings the same way the Shimuras have kids, but you don’t bring that up unless you’re forced to. “I’m the oldest. I’m guessing you are, too?”

“That’s right.” Touya runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even higher than it was before. “Not that I care too much about your backstory, but you must have something really shitty going on to make this the better offer.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” You’re not too interested in Touya’s thoughts on your backstory, either. You collect the envelope with your pay and sort through it quickly, confirming that it’s all there, then look up at Touya. “Do I need to tip you or anything?”

“Twenty percent is customary.” Touya doesn’t let that crack stand for very long. “No. The Shimuras might be off the wall, but they pay well for everything – grunt work like what I do all the way up to caring for their precious little boy.”

There’s a thud from somewhere upstairs, and you jump out of your skin. Touya startles, too, but he recovers faster. “Sounds like the monkey just fell off the bed. You should probably go check on that.”

“Yeah. It was, uh – nice to meet you,” you say. Touya snorts. “See you next week.”

You don’t actually think Touya would steal your money, but you take the envelope with you when you race up the stairs to the second floor, and drop it on your bed before hurrying into Tenko’s room. You spend as little time in here as possible. It’s like a time capsule, frozen on the day the Shimuras decided to replace their dead son but not their dead daughter with a photorealistic porcelain doll, and it gives off some of the worst vibes you’ve ever felt.

You leave Tenko in here most of the time because looking at him creeps you out, and in spite of Touya’s joke about monkeys on the bed, he’s exactly where you left him. What’s fallen over is a mostly-empty bookshelf, and there’s something behind it – a little alcove in the wall, with a pile of old, dusty toys. Action figures, mainly, along with a single plushie. You go to investigate, and discover that while you’re not much of a comic-book fan, you recognize almost all the action figures. They’re from Adventures of All Might, a cartoon your brother used to watch. It’s been off the air for ten years at least. What are toys from a show that old doing in a five-year-old’s room?

The answer occurs to you, and to your displeasure, it makes you even more uncomfortable than the question. This isn’t a five-year-old’s room. Shimura Tenko died when he was five years old – seventeen years ago, when Adventures of All Might was on the air. If Tenko was alive, he’d be about as old as you are. The thought weirds you out so badly that you nudge the action figures to the side and pick up the plushie.

Getting a decent look at the plushie first involves violently shaking the plushie until the dust comes up in a big cloud. Underneath the dust, the plushie’s dog-shaped, or more accurately, corgi-shaped. There’s a piece of yarn around its neck, with a cardboard tag hanging from it. You hold it up for a look and somehow manage to decipher the handwriting of a long-dead five-year-old. “Mon,” you say out loud. “That’s a good name.”

It's a good name, but thinking about it makes you miserable. A big, creepy doll might be all that’s left of Shimura Tenko, but Shimura Tenko was a real person – a little kid who liked cartoons and handmade a collar for his plushie, who’d be your age if he’d had the chance to grow up. Your eyes are stinging from the dust. You spend a few more seconds brushing it away, then carry Mon over to the bed and set him down beside Tenko.

You’re surprised at how much less unsettling the sight becomes now that you’ve added a toy to it. It’s improved enough that you feel okay spending a little longer in Tenko’s room, righting the bookshelf that fell and arranging the action figures on top of it, before you go downstairs to put away the groceries.

The Shimura house is old. Old houses make noises – weird noises, a lot of the time, and that’s just something you have to live with. You’re good at living with it most nights, but tonight, as the first really big storm of autumn rages around the house, the noises you hear sound less like old-house creaks and groans and more like footsteps. And voices. And laughter. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t.

You tried to call Manami, but the phone lines are down, and while you haven’t tried the lights, you’re pretty sure they’re out. All you can do is huddle up in bed, the door to your room barricaded, mumbling to yourself like an actual lunatic. “This is fucked up, this is fucked up, this is so fucked up –”

You’re fucked up. You think something’s haunting this place? The ghosts of a five-year-old and his seven-year-old sister, who didn’t even die in here? Some haunting. It’s your overactive imagination putting you through hell, and you’ve got proof – your shitty ex-boyfriend Takami Keigo is very much alive, and your mind’s been telling you that one of the laughing voices belongs to him. If you were faced with a choice between a living Keigo and a ghost Keigo, you’d pick the ghost in a heartbeat. Ghosts can’t stalk you when you try to take a break from the relationship and enlist the entire town, police force included, to their cause. And you could probably exorcise him, which would be a lot easier than whatever you’d have to do to get rid of real Keigo for good.

The sounds get weirder, and they’re coming from all over the place – the ceiling above you, the hallway, the rooms on either side of yours, even inside the walls. Maybe you’ve got rats or something. You’ll ask Natsuo about that when he comes over tomorrow to clear leaves out of the gutters and branches off the roof. It’s fine if there’s rats tonight, right? You can take a rat in a fight. Probably even ten rats. You’re not going to get eaten alive by rats. Ghost Keigo could be dealt with. Rats can also be dealt with. It’s just your imagination. You need to get it together.

It's just past three in the morning, and you think the getting-it-together is going okay, when a particularly big gust of wind rattles the house. There’s a colossal bang from somewhere, but only one. The windows are shaking in their frames, producing an odd, warped sound, and somewhere beneath it, there’s another sound, a sound that’s got no place in this house. Someone’s crying. It doesn’t take much or any stretching of the imagination to convince yourself that it’s a kid.

You decide instantly that you’re not going to waste time trying to talk yourself out of it. You’ll go check on Tenko, confirm that Tenko is in fact still a doll and not a real boy, and then you’ll go to bed and sleep in as late as you damn well please.

The wood floors in the hallway are cold beneath your feet, but it’s only a short walk to Tenko’s room – and then you have to double back, because you don’t have a flashlight and the lights are out. You’re already spooked and already frustrated by the time you open the door to Tenko’s room, and when you open the door, you’re ready to be mad. You click on the flashlight, raise it, and pan it over the room. And then you freeze.

Tenko’s room is trashed. Multiple shelves have been overturned, toys and books spilling everywhere, and the curtains over the boarded-up window hang in tatters. The shade’s off the lamp on the nightstand, and the dresser drawers yawn open – or else they’ve been pulled free and scattered across the room. The sheets are askew on the bed, the bed itself shifted at a weird angle. Tenko is nowhere to be found.

“Tenko?” you say hesitantly. You pan the flashlight again, and for a split second, you see a shadow crouched atop Tenko’s bed, far too big to be the doll. You don’t need to see any more than that. You drop the flashlight and scream.

The storm drowns out your scream, and you run out of air eventually – and then you’re tired of it. Screaming’s not doing anything to help, and if the shadow was going to kill you, it would have done it by now. You crouch down and feel along the floor until you come up with the flashlight, which still works. You check the bed first, but there’s no shadow there. There never was. The only things in this house are you and Tenko, and neither of you was up on the bed like a gremlin five seconds ago. You keep looking for Tenko. He has to be in here somewhere.

And he is. You find him behind the door, Mon-chan in his arms, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Hi, Tenko,” you say, like a crazy person. “Did you get scared?”

He doesn’t answer, of course. Because he’s a doll. He’s a doll, and you’re crazy. Knowing that doesn’t stop you from looking around at the wreckage of the room, thinking about how scary it would be to have to go back to bed in here if you were a kid. Thinking about how you used to be scared of lightning and thunder – maybe still are. “If you’re still scared,” you start, “do you want to stay in my room for tonight?”

Five minutes later, you’re setting a line of pillows down the middle of your bed, leaving one half for you and one half for Tenko. And Mon-chan, because you felt less weird about inviting a doll to sleep in your bed if the doll has its plushie, too. Once you’ve got Tenko squared away, you block the door again. “It’ll be daylight soon,” you tell yourself. Then, to Tenko: “We’ll fix your room up and everything will be fine.”

Tenko’s eyes are open. His eyes are grey, like they are in the family portrait, with long lashes. You reach out and close their lids carefully. The chances that you’ll be able to get to sleep are slim, but they’re zero as long as you’ve got a doll staring at you.

“It’s weird, right?” you say anxiously as Natsuo scans the mess in Tenko’s room. Most of the Todoroki kids don’t come inside the house, but you managed to lure Natsuo inside by mentioning the really loud bang you heard last night. “The wind couldn’t have done this.”

“Not with all the windows boarded up, yeah.” Natsuo looks wary. “You sure you don’t sleepwalk or anything?”

“Never,” you say. “I just – it was like this when I came in.”

“This is creeping me out,” Natsuo says, but he doesn’t look away. He’s looking around the room. “Where’s Tenko?”

“I moved him. In there.” You nod toward your room. “Things got wild in here last night. I kept thinking I was hearing voices, or laughter – or kids crying –”

You sound like a lunatic, again. Why does everything that happens to you make you look and feel crazy? “Have any of the other nannies mentioned things like that?”

“No,” Natsuo says, backing away from Tenko’s room. He glances into your room again. “Hey, Tenko. What – wait, you found Mon-chan? I remember that thing.”

“Huh?”

“That used to be his favorite,” Natsuo says. “When he was alive.”

You didn’t get much sleep last night. You’re a little slow. “Wait, you knew him?”

“We all did. Hana, too.” Natsuo starts down the hall, aiming for the stairs to the third floor. “They’re the richest family in town, and our shitty bastard of a father only wanted us to associate with the best. We all played together.”

You wish somebody had told you that earlier. “What was he like?”

“I don’t really remember,” Natsuo says with a shrug. “I was four. Touya would know better. You should ask him.”

He disappears up the stairs, and you chase after him. You don’t spend a lot of time on the top floor – it’s the master bedroom, and Mr. Shimura’s study, and a lot of stuff you feel like you shouldn’t get involved with. Natsuo doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “The attic’s open,” he calls. You climb the last few steps. “I bet the thud you heard was the trapdoor coming down.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” The trapdoor and ladder look heavy enough to produce the sound. “Can you fix it?”

“I’d have to climb up in there.” Natsuo looks really wary now. Out of the three older Todoroki siblings, he’s the one who’s least comfortable with coming into the house. “How about you climb up and look at the hinges? I’ll tell you what to look for, and I’ll come up if there’s anything wrong.”

You don’t want to go up in the attic, either, but you also want to make sure this doesn’t happen again. You nudge past Natsuo and climb the ladder into the musty dimness of the attic. Dimness, not darkness – there’s a skylight, the first window on the upper floors of the house that’s not boarded up completely. The attic itself is cluttered and dusty, but there aren’t any cobwebs that you can see. Small favors.

You crouch down by the trapdoor. “Okay. What am I looking for?”

Natsuo tells you, but even without his instructions, you probably could have figured it out. One hinge has been completely sheared away, dangling by one barely-there screw. Natsuo climbs up to study it with you, frowning. “This doesn’t look like metal fatigue. And the wood’s still in good condition. I don’t understand why it would just break.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah,” Natsuo says. “You have to stick around, though. I’m not staying up here alone.”

“Fair enough.”

While Natsuo works, you investigate the rest of the attic, trying not to sneeze and create a dust storm. At least half the attic is taken up by objects labeled as belonging to “Mom”, but they’ve been there way too long to be referring to Mrs. Shimura. You blow some dust off of a big picture frame to see what’s inside and find yourself looking at a poster that could be from a circus. The background is black and yellow and grey, the lettering ornate but still legible. Psychopomp, Medium, Illusionist: See the Spectacular Shimura Nana!

The next picture frame in line has a picture of Shimura Nana herself, and it’s immediately clear to you where Mr. Shimura got his looks from. Shimura Nana is gorgeous, dark-haired and grey-eyed with a bright, almost cocky smile on her face, and there’s a birthmark just below the corner of her mouth that looks familiar. When you think about people who can talk to the dead, you don’t think of them as looking this happy.

You carry both picture frames back to Natsuo. “Did you know their grandma was a magician?”

“No.” Natsuo glances at the frames, then flinches, almost dropping his screwdriver. “Shit. If I were you, I’d get out of here.”

You raise your eyebrows, and Natsuo gives you an exasperated look. “Somebody who could talk to the dead used to live here. The people who own this place have a doll that they treat like their dead son. And last night something trashed their dead son’s room. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? This place is haunted.”

“Don’t say that. I have to live here.”

“It’s gonna be haunted whether I say it or not.” Natsuo gives you a weird look. “Is it just the money thing? There are other ways to get money.”

“It’s not just money. I have to stay out of the way,” you say. “There’s this guy – my ex – he’s a cop –”

Natsuo’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I get it,” he says. “Our piece-of-shit old man is a cop. Our mom couldn’t get away, either.”

Your stomach drops. You know cops talk to each other. “Please don’t tell your dad that I’m –”

“Are you kidding? I barely talk to him. No way am I telling him that.” Natsuo says. He glances at you. “I get why you feel like you have to stay here. This place is still haunted.”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t know what’s haunting it – Tenko’s ghost, his sister’s ghost, his grandma’s ghost, or all three plus however many ghosts Shimura Nana summoned to hang out with her – but you have the same thought you had last night, and this time, you say it out loud. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.”

You get Tenko’s room reordered, and when the next storm comes, it doesn’t get trashed again. Then again, you go and grab the doll from the room the second you hear the first clap of thunder – not because you really think there’s a scared five-year-old ghost haunting it, but just to be safe. That same night, you retrieve Tenko’s schedule from where you abandoned it a month ago and read over it. Again, just to be safe.

It’s not that bad of a schedule, really. It’s not that weird. Most of it just involves moving Tenko from place to place around the house. You’d probably want a change of scenery, too, if you were a ghost haunting a doll. You don’t mind playing him music, but you play stuff you like, at a volume that’s a little less than earsplitting. You don’t mind reading aloud, so long as you’re reading your own books, and editing out the parts that aren’t kid-appropriate on the fly. And because he’s just there, and he’s not going to give you any feedback, it’s okay to think out loud.

At first it’s just whatever thought pops into your head, but as the days slip past in the second month of your stay at the Shimura house, you find that you’re getting into some stuff you haven’t talked about with anyone. And then, one day when you’re in the kitchen making your own dinner and setting out a plate for Tenko that you’ll inevitably throw away, you find yourself talking about something you swore you never would.

“I used to be a big sister,” you tell him. “Not like you and Hana. A bigger sister. My brother was five years younger than me, and he was my parents’ favorite, right from the start. That always used to confuse me. They liked him better even before he did anything.”

Confused is downplaying it. You were hurt. You still are, when you scratch the surface even a centimeter down. “I wanted to be a good sister, but it seemed like everything I did was wrong. I played too rough, or else I wasn’t playing with him at all. I didn’t share my toys, or I gave him toys he wasn’t supposed to have – and when I took them back, he’d always yell. And then my dad would yell. And I’d cry. But my brother was crying, too. And my mom always went to him.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Tenko. He’s sitting and waiting, like always, expression still and remote. You can’t look at him and say this next part. “When it happened, I was nine,” you say. “He was four. I was playing marbles, and he kept trying to grab them from me. He could talk by then – a lot – so I made a deal with him. He could pick any marble he wanted to play with, and let me have the rest of them. So he picked one – this big shooter, my favorite. Right out of my hand.”

The echo of your nine-year-old self’s anger still echoes through you, made all the more sickening by what happened next. “I tried to get it back, and he stuffed it in his mouth so I couldn’t. And then he started choking.”

You couldn’t get it out. You tried, screaming for help the whole time, but nothing you did made any difference. Nothing your mom did made any difference, either, and your baby brother was blue by the time the ambulance got there. Your parents didn’t blame you. You thought they were going to. You expected them to. But in their version of the story, you were barely there. You were their only kid again, and they couldn’t afford to hate you. Your brother grabbed the marble and swallowed it, and choked, and died. You just happened to be there. It wasn’t your fault.

But it was. You were the one who offered any marble he wanted. You should have known he’d pick the one you were holding – one that was too big to fit down his throat, one he’d try to keep away from you at any cost once he had it. You’re the one who couldn’t save him, and thinking about it doesn’t even make you cry. You’d say it makes you feel sick, but sick is too small of a word for the hollowness inside you. The place where you used to be a sister. The place where you used to be good.

“Today’s his birthday,” you tell Tenko, dry-eyed. “You’d be twenty-two like me if you were here for real, and he’d be seventeen, and I never told anybody that I gave the marble to him until just now. I don’t even know why I told you. I guess I thought you should know that it’s a good thing you’re not a real kid. Because I really don’t have great luck with those.”

You set Tenko’s plate down in front of him, knowing the food won’t be touched, then turn away to fill yours. When you turn back, the entire plate is gone.

You’ve gotten comfortable with the fact that the Shimura house is haunted. As comfortable as it’s possible to be when you don’t know exactly what’s haunting it. You put up with weird sounds at night, and with things being moved around, and you put up with some of your stuff going missing – but a whole plate of food vanishing because you turned around for two seconds? Nope. Not a chance. “Put it back.”

“He knows.”

You almost drop your plate, then tighten your grip. You’re losing it, officially, but you’ll be damned before you drop a bunch of food all over the floor. If you’re going to the mental hospital, you’re going well-fed. “I didn’t hear anything,” you say aloud. “I’ve just been talking to myself. That’s it.”

You stuff one bite, two bite, three bites of food into your mouth, and something speaks again. “Your brother. He knows.”

It’s not a little kid’s voice. Not the voice you’d imagine for Tenko as a ghost – but it doesn’t not sound like Tenko. It keeps talking. “He knows you tried to save him. And it matters that you tried.”

“How do you know?” Your voice rattles around the question, and there’s no answer. The strange voice doesn’t speak again, and the plate doesn’t reappear. “Please –”

“He knows,” the voice says. “He’d forgive you. If there was anything to forgive.”

The hollow place inside you has been there so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have anything there. When something floods backs in, it hits with such violence that it drives all the air from your lungs. You shove your plate to one side and double over, gasping for breath. Your eyes burn and your throat closes, and before you know it, you’re crying.

You don’t really cry. Keigo always said something was wrong with you, that you didn’t show your feelings and he wasn’t sure you even had them. Crying feels awful. The headache it generates is all-encompassing, and you put your head down on the kitchen table and shut your eyes, waiting for it to stop. It seems like it’ll never end, and somewhere amidst the pain and embarrassment and relief, you find a shred of hate in your heart for Keigo. You never cried in front of him? He never made you feel anything worth crying about.

When the crying stops, the headache remains, and you sit up, rubbing at the crick in your neck. You must have fallen asleep; it’s dark outside, and the kitchen’s gloomy along with it. Not gloomy enough, though. Not so gloomy that you can’t see Tenko’s plate sitting back in front of him, wiped perfectly clean. The glass of water you poured for him is empty, too. And something clicks into place in the back of your head, only slightly warped by the headache.

Hana has a shrine. Hana’s shrine has offerings on it. Maybe the food you leave for Tenko is an offering, too. “Did you like this?” you ask. Your voice sounds awful. “I can make it again sometime.”

You have to start paying more attention to what Tenko eats, if he eats any of it. It’s the least you can do, after what he told you today. Even if it isn’t true, even if the ghost haunting the Shimura house decided to tell you a lie, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to think about your brother without feeling like you’re the one being choked to death. That’s worth a meal or two, in your opinion. You might actually need to learn how to cook.

You clear Tenko’s plate away, and on an impulse, lean down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” you say. It feels weird to be kissing a doll, especially when you’ve been skipping the goodnight kiss so religiously, but this is a special occasion. “I feel better now.”

“Wow, have you lost it,” Touya says, laughing. He drops the groceries on the far end of the kitchen table, well away from where you and Tenko are eating lunch. “You know he can’t eat, right? He’s a doll.”

“I know. But he’s dead, so it’s like – an offering,” you say. “Since he doesn’t have a real shrine.”

“Yeah,” Touya remarks. He opens the fridge and starts shoving things in haphazardly. “Real nice piece of work on his dad’s part.”

That reminds you of something Natsuo said a while back, something you’ve been meaning to ask Touya about. “Your brother said you all knew the Shimuras. That you played together. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My assclown father and their assclown father both fell out of the same assclown tree.” Touya shuts the refrigerator, then opens the freezer. “We’d play together sometimes. Go to the birthday parties and shit. Hana went to the same school as me and Fuyumi. That’s about it.”

He glances sideways at you. “Natsuo said you were going to ask. What do you want to know?”

“What were they like?”

“Hana – she was cool. Nothing threw her off, and nothing kept her down. Everybody liked her. Even my shitheap father, which is really saying something.” Touya shuts the freezer, too, and turns to face you. “Tenko, though – he was kind of a crybaby. Everything made that kid cry. Didn’t matter if it was good or bad. If he had a feeling for longer than two seconds, there went the waterworks.”

You didn’t have a real idea of Tenko’s personality in your head. You had what Mrs. Shimura told you – shy, sweet, playful – but you threw out most of what she said on principle because she was saying it about a doll. “He was a lot,” Touya continues, “but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. It makes it kind of hard to believe the official story about what happened.”

“The official story,” you repeat. “The Shimuras just said it was an accident.”

“Yeah, they would.” Touya leans back against the kitchen table. “Both their kids drown in the well on the same day? Better be an accident.”

Your stomach lurches. “They drowned?”

“Both of them.” Touya pats his pocket, then comes up with a pack of cigarettes, followed by a lighter. “There are three schools of thought about what happened, and they all start with the well cover. I can take you out to look and prove it, but trust me when I say that thing’s a bitch – 20kg at least. The first school of thought says that Tenko got the well cover open and fell in, and when Hana heard him calling for help, she ran to help and fell in, too. And they both drown in there.”

You don’t understand why they need more than one school of thought. The first one is awful enough. “The second school of thought says somebody else opened the well cover and both kids fell in – and in that case, the question is who? The third one says that Tenko opened it himself and pulled Hana in after him. Guess which one the Shimuras went with.”

“They think he opened a 20kg well cover so he could drown himself in it and decided to take Hana with him, too?” You can barely believe it. You can’t imagine ascribing that kind of malice to a little kid. “I mean – I never met them, obviously, but – I don’t think he would –”

“I did meet him, and I don’t think so either. None of us do,” Touya says. He glances around the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Tenko for a second before drifting back to you. “Something really fucked up happened here. Fucked up things happen in the house I grew up in all the time, but not like this.”

He’s frowning. “My dad plays favorites, but he’s indifferent to the rest of us. Hana’s dad hated Tenko. You could tell.”

“How?”

“Because Hana wasn’t scared of him. Tenko was.” Touya lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “I wouldn’t spend too long thinking about it, if I were you.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to not think about it,” you say. You wish you’d asked what happened to Tenko and Hana sooner. “Is that why they’ve only got the one shrine?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” Touya shrugs, then heads over to the pantry to start unpacking the dry goods one-handed. “I can tell you this, though. When they went down into that well to get the kids out, they only found one body. And it wasn’t his.”

As if this couldn’t get more horrible. Picturing the children’s bodies floating together in the cramped quarters of the well is bad enough, but picturing just Hana, knowing that Tenko’s lost somewhere in the depths, never to be found – your skin crawls. You start unpacking the dry goods alongside Touya, trying to get through it quickly so he’ll leave. You need to be alone to think about this. You can’t talk to Tenko about it while someone else is here.

“One more thing,” Touya says under his breath. “Natsuo told me and Fuyumi about the thing. Dad cornered Fuyumi on it and she caved. So –”

So now a cop here knows that you’re hiding out from another cop. Your hands shake so badly that you drop the bag of rice you’re trying to put away. “Keep it together,” Touya warns. “We fucked up but we’re fixing it. The brat’s going to keep his ear to the ground, and we’ll keep an eye out. You should get as much advance warning as you need.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us,” Touya says. “Just think about what you’re going to do when the Shimuras get back.”

Right. You can’t stay here forever. It’s not like the Shimuras are going to let you keep taking care of Tenko when they’re here to do it themselves. Your expenses here are zero. By the time they come back home, you’ll have saved a lot of money, enough to do – something. Like get out of the country and never look back. Or hire someone to put a hit on Keigo so you never have to look over your shoulder again. Either way, you’ll be getting out of here. And you won’t see Tenko – or hang out with his ghost – ever again.

The thought shouldn’t make you sad, but it does. But nothing could possibly make you sadder than the thought of the Shimura kids trapped in the well. No matter how they got there.

Some part of you knew it couldn’t last – the part of you that’s familiar with the kind of guy you almost married, the one who always gets what he wants and can’t take no for an answer. Some part of you always knew Keigo would find you. But you weren’t prepared for what it would feel like to actually see him standing inside the kitchen of the Shimura household, surrounded by grocery bags and wearing a self-satisfied grin. You’d stammered out a question about what he was doing here, and Keigo smiled at you. “The police chief here’s a good guy. He let me know that his kids handle some of the work around here, and I offered to bring the groceries by so we’d have a chance to talk alone.”

He’d nodded meaningfully at Tenko, who you were holding. “We are alone, right? That’s just a creepy doll.”

You said yes, if only because you didn’t want Tenko anywhere near whatever you and Keigo were going to talk about. And now you’re in your room, under Keigo’s watchful eyes, packing up to leave.

The door to Tenko’s room is closed, but you’d be crazy to assume that his ghost couldn’t hear you no matter where you are in the house. “I can’t just leave,” you say for the millionth time. “This is my job. I made a commitment.”

“To take care of a human child. Not a doll.” Keigo is smiling, but his eyes are hard and glinting. “Getting out of here with me is the sanest thing anybody in your position can do. He’ll be fine.”

“No,” you say. Keigo raises his eyebrows. “They’ll be back in a month. Let me finish doing my job, and then I’ll come back.”

Keigo shakes his head. “I’m worried about your mental health. When I talked to the police chief here, and he told me his kids were helping you take care of a porcelain doll in a big house with boarded-up windows, I got even more worried. And I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but the Shimuras were never planning to come back.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Keigo reaches into his back pocket and produces a letter – one that’s clearly been addressed to Shimura Tenko, and one that’s already been opened. “Hey. You can’t just open people’s mail.”

“If it’s linked to illegal activity, I can do whatever I want.” Keigo slides the letter out of the envelope and clears his throat. “Dear Tenko, We are heartbroken to tell you that we will not be returning home. We can no longer live with what you have become. The girl is yours – the girl. That’s you, right?”

You can’t think of who else it would be. Keigo keeps reading, projecting his voice. “The girl is yours. She is yours to love and care for. May we all be forgiven. Yours, Mother and Father.” He lowers the letter, raises his eyebrows. “They’re sacrificing you to the memory of their dead son. You know, the one who was so sick and crazy he drowned himself just so he could drown his own sister?”

“That’s not what happened,” you say. Keigo laughs at you. “Shut up! You weren’t here –”

“Neither were you,” Keigo says. “I’ve read the police reports. The statements from the parents –”

“The ones Touya’s dad took?” You remember Touya and Natsuo comparing their dad to Tenko’s dad, and not in Mr. Shimura’s favor. “Sure. I guess they have to cover up for each other, or none of them would get away with it.”

“Okay. That’s it.” Keigo lifts the last pile of clothes out of your arms, drops them unceremoniously into your suitcase, and zips it shut. “The sooner you get out of this house, the better. We need to be far away from here by the time it comes out.”

“By the time what comes out?”

“This isn’t just the Shimuras’ goodbye letter, it’s their suicide note. Their bodies were recovered yesterday.” Keigo looks almost gleeful in the always-dim light of the Shimura house. Or maybe you really are just losing your mind. “Lawyers are going to be all over this place any day now. Let’s go.”

He pulls the suitcase off the bed with one hand, then grabs your arm with the other. “Come on. Don’t make this so difficult –”

“Give me the letter,” you say hopelessly. “I want to read it to Tenko.”

“You want to read a letter to a doll.” Keigo looks skeptical. “What’s that going to do?”

You invent something on the fly. “Closure.”

“Closure?” Keigo repeats. “Huh. I guess if it keeps you from fixating on this the way you fixate on everything else, sure. Go read the doll his parents’ suicide letter.”

Despair keeps your footsteps heavy as you make your way across the hall into Tenko’s room. You settled him on the bed with Mon-chan, like always, and you sit down on the end of the bed, the same as you do when you read him a bedtime story. “Tenko,” you start. “Um, I have to go. And I have something to tell you. I feel like you should hear it from me and not somebody else.”

You lay out the situation carefully, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to leave like this. I don’t want to, but Keigo’s here, and he says –”

“Don’t want to?”

You haven’t heard the ghost’s voice since it talked to you about your brother. “I don’t want to,” you say. “Keigo says I have to.”

“Don’t make me sound like a dictator. I want what’s best for you,” Keigo says from the doorway. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

“No.”

That was audible. Keigo should be able to hear it. “Keigo, did you hear –”

“You talking to yourself? Yeah.” Keigo grabs your arm, yanks you sharply away from the bed. “You went crazier than I thought in here, huh?”

“No.”

This time Keigo hears it. You can see it in his face. A split second later, the lights go out.

Keigo’s grip on your arm tightens. There’s a crash from somewhere else in the house, and his grip tightens further. He drags you out of Tenko’s room through the darkened house. “Did you plan this or something?” he asks you as you stumble down the stairs after him. “It’s a good show. If you put this much effort into making our relationship work –”

“NO.” The lights in the front hall switch on, revealing something standing dead center in the hallway, between you and the way out.

Keigo curses and rocks back a step, but you know instantly what you’re looking at, who you’re looking at. “No,” Shimura Tenko says. “No means no.”

Tenko doesn’t look very much like the doll anymore. His grey eyes are red, and his black hair is white, but you recognize his features. They’re the same ones from the doll, from the family portrait, from your memories his parents and the poster you saw of his grandmother. He’s thin, almost skeletal, his hands and limbs spiderlike. He looks filthy, and his clothes are ragged. If you’d had a nightmare of what might haunt this house the first night you moved in, it would have looked exactly like this.

You’re looking at Shimura Tenko. Shimura Tenko’s supposed to have been dead for seventeen years. You don’t know how or why he’s here, but you know one thing, one thing that’s been true since you realized the Shimura house was haunted: You’d rather take your chances with a ghost. “I don’t want to leave,” you say to Tenko, ignoring Keigo when he orders you to be quiet. “I promised I would stay.”

Tenko’s crimson gaze shifts from you to Keigo. “She stays,” he says in that strange, not-quite-human voice. “You leave.”

Keigo laughs. “Sorry, I don’t think you get it. We’re leaving. You’re staying right where you are.”

He starts down the hall again, your efforts to fight free barely making a skip in his stride. The front door opens a crack behind Tenko, and you can see a white-haired someone peering through. One of the Todorokis, maybe Touya or Natsuo who promised they’d warn you if they saw Keigo coming. Touya points at you, beckons. “I’m going to tell you this one more time,” Keigo is saying to Tenko. “Get out of the –”

Tenko lunges at him. Keigo lets go of you. And you run straight out the front door, down the front steps. Past the Todoroki siblings. As far and as fast as your legs will carry you, until you trip on something, hit your head on something else, and black out on the ground.

Smoke stings your nasal passages, and you wake up coughing. Someone is breathing raggedly next to you, and someone else is shaking your shoulder. “Come on,” Natsuo is saying under his breath. “Come on, come on –”

“No, be careful, she hit her head –” Fuyumi is patting your hand. “If you can hear us, we need you to wake up. It’s Tenko.”

Tenko, the doll? No, Tenko the – whatever he is. The thing that’s alive. The thing that’s real enough to challenge Keigo to a fight. You sit up with the worst headache you’ve had in maybe your entire life and look around. The grounds of the Shimura estate are eerily backlit, and when you glance over your shoulder, you see that the Shimuras’ house is in flames. “What – happened?”

“Tenko killed the cop,” Natsuo says. You look blankly at him. “Touya said we should burn down the house to hide it, and we thought Tenko understood. But then he went back inside.”

“He won’t come out,” Fuyumi says. “Touya’s been yelling for him, but he’s not responding. If we don’t get him out soon he’ll die. If he won’t listen to Touya, then –”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you,” Natsuo says. His expression twists. “He used to be normal. What happened to him?”

You don’t have a clue. Tenko’s alive. Somehow, some part of him – something that looks like him, or is him, or answers to his name. Tenko’s alive, and Keigo is dead, and that’s so difficult to process that your mind skips straight past it. Or tries to. Tenko is alive, and Keigo is dead because Tenko killed him, and for some reason Touya thought it was a good idea to try to burn down the Shimura house. You squeeze your eyes shut and try your hardest to compartmentalize. You can’t stop the house from burning. You can’t bring Keigo back to life. But there is someone alive in there. You can do something about that.

You get to your feet unsteadily and turn back towards the house. The top floor is in flames, light flickering behind the boarded-up windows, and although there’s smoke flooding the grounds, the lower floors of the house look clear of fire. It’s safe for you to go in. Safe enough. You duck past Touya, who’s been hollering up at the windows for Tenko to get “his creepy man-spider ass” out here, and in through the front door. And from there you have no idea what to do.

If you knew anything about who Tenko really is, you’d know where to look. The habits of doll Tenko tell you absolutely nothing. When he’s moved, or been moved, there’s no rhyme or reason to where he’s ended up – except for one time, the first time the doll ever moved from the place you left it. You climb the stairs, turn down the hall, dart past your room. The door to Tenko’s is open, the room itself trashed all over again. The only thing still in place is Mon-chan, sitting on the bed.

You grab it, in case it helps. Then you turn back to the place you found Tenko last time, and sure enough, he’s there. Right behind the door. But while doll Tenko could conceal himself perfectly in the space, the real Tenko is too tall and gangly. Even hunched in on himself with his knees drawn to his chest, there’s an elbow sticking out of the shadows in one spot, a foot sticking out in the another. His red eyes stare out blankly through the tangle of matted white hair. He’s not moving except to cough.

You’re coughing, too. It’s hard to speak. “Tenko, come on,” you say. “It’s not safe anymore. It’s time to go.”

“Dead.” His voice sounds even less human now. “They left me.”

His parents. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay here,” you say. “You don’t have to die because they did. You can come with me.”

There’s blood on Tenko’s hands, on his clothes. It’s smeared on the lower half of his face, draining from his nose and from a cut on his forehead. You pull your sleeve down over your hand, reach forward, and wipe it away, clamping down on the shiver that runs through you when he turns his head against your hand. “Come with me,” you say again, and he shakes his head. “Okay. Then move over.”

Tenko looks up, startled. “I said I didn’t want to leave you,” you say. “I meant it.”

You were wondering, all this time, if you’d know you’d finally lost your mind when it happened. The answer is yes, and the magical thing about losing your mind is that you don’t care all that much. The ex-boyfriend you were running from is dead. The house you were staying in is burning to the ground. You’ve spent the last three months taking care of a doll in a house you thought was haunted by a ghost, only to realize that everything you’ve been doing for the doll, you’ve been doing for the man it was modeled after, too. The world is upside down, twisted, backwards. Nothing and everything make sense right now.

“Either we both go,” you say, coughing harder now, “or we both stay. It’s up to you.”

You pull your hand back from wiping at his face and hold it out for him to take. He looks at it, then at you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. You wonder if he’s even scared of dying, if dying matters to something like him, whatever he is. If he really is Tenko, he’s died once before already, hasn’t he? Is it any harder to die again? Whether it is or not, Tenko doesn’t seem interested in finding out. He takes your hand, lets you pull him to his feet, and then yanks you out into the hall himself.

The air is thick and grey, and the flames are catching up, but Tenko’s fast as he drags you down the hall to the stairs. You stumble over a body at the base of them and make the mistake of looking at the face. Or what’s left of the face. Tenko doesn’t let you look for long. He pulls you past Keigo’s body to the front door and shoves you out of it – and then, before he can retreat, Natsuo and Touya seize him by his arms and yank him out after you.

The four of you tumble down the steps, landing in a heap in the driveway. Tenko is coughing, a wet, horrible sound, and while you’re able to get to your feet, he barely moves. You and the Todorokis have to drag him away from the house, down the driveway until all you can see of the house is the pillar of flames billowing up from the roof. You stop to catch your breath, and the others stop, too. You and Fuyumi, Touya and Natsuo, and Tenko sprawled on the ground between you.

It’s quiet for a second. “Wow,” Touya says to Tenko. “You’re even weirder-looking than I remember. And you reek.”

Fuyumi smacks him. Natsuo’s got bigger things to worry about. “What are we going to do with him?” he demands. “If that’s even him. If it’s some kind of monster that’s bad enough. If it’s him, he’s been dead for seventeen years – and he just killed a guy!”

“That guy was a fuckweasel,” Touya says. He glances at you. “Right?”

You don’t want to say yes. “He wasn’t a very nice guy,” you say, and Touya snorts. “I was scared of him.”

“And you’re not scared of that?” Natsuo demands.

“He’s not a that,” you say. “He’s –”

You don’t really know what. Tenko bleeds red like a human. Based on the way Tenko was yanking you around, he’s really strong. He’s so thin that he’s almost a skeleton, and he smells like he hasn’t showered in seventeen years. But whatever he is, he’s alive. That’s where you’ll start from. “He’s Tenko,” you say finally, for lack of a better way to phrase it. “I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m not scared of him right now. If I do get scared, I’ll deal with it then. I’m not leaving him here.”

“No one thinks we should do that,” Fuyumi reassures you. “We just need to think of where to put him. I know a place.”

It’s quiet for a second. “No,” Touya says suddenly. “He’s not staying at my place.”

“Just for tonight,” Fuyumi urges. “We can sneak him in now – Dad won’t be back for hours, he’ll be coming to investigate this – and clean him up before we figure out what to do with him.”

“She can stay there, too,” Natsuo says, nodding at you. “If Dad comes by, she can answer the door, and Dad will be so thrilled at the idea that you’re having straight sex that he won’t bother you for a week.”

Touya snickers at that. “Fine,” he says to Tenko. Then, to you: “You can borrow some of my clothes for him, but I’m not helping you give him a bath.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say. The idea of giving doll Tenko a bath felt so weird that you never did it. The idea of giving adult Tenko a bath is less weird but still something you aren’t looking forward to. You can hear sirens in the distance. “We should go now.”

Tenko’s semiconscious as you and the Todorokis load him into Touya’s car. Nobody wants to sit in the back with him, but someone has to, so you and Tenko have the backseat to yourself while all three Todorokis jam together up front. Tenko buckles his own seatbelt, but as soon as Touya pulls onto the main road, he unbuckles himself and crawls across the backseat towards you. You retreat, but there’s only so far you can go. “Uh –”

“Guys, he’s climbing on her!” Natsuo’s keeping an eye on you. “Leave her alone!”

Touya meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Need me to pull over?”

You shake your head. Tenko’s settling into the seat next to yours, and he buckles himself again before twisting sideways to face you. He looks awful, and somehow worse than that, he looks scared. You can’t tell if it’s a childish fear or not. Tenko hasn’t left his house in seventeen years – it wouldn’t surprise you if he was agoraphobic. And if you’d just left the only home you’d ever known in flames behind you, you’d be scared, too.

And you remember what Tenko said to you, after you told him what happened to your brother. He probably wasn’t talking to your brother from the beyond. But if the story Touya and the others believe about how Hana and Tenko ended up in the well is true, Tenko knows how it feels to have an older sister who tried to save him. Maybe it’s still okay for you to believe that your brother, wherever he is, feels the same way, too. Tenko didn’t have to give you that, but he did.

You open your arms slightly, and Tenko collapses forward into them, his spiderlike hands grabbing fistfuls of your shirt and hanging on tight. He’s too tall to hide his face in your shoulder, like he seems to want to do. His mouth ends up pressed against your ear instead. “I’m not a doll anymore,” he says. His voice is roughened with smoke, but there’s a softness to it, incongruous enough to make your skin crawl. “I can take care of you, too.”

It could be a child’s innocent insistence on fairness, a man’s confident assertion, a monster’s implicit threat. As Touya’s car speeds down the road, you come to the conclusion that it might be all three at once, and something more – the promise of a lover, sealed by cracked, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

#asks #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tenko shimura x reader #tenko shimura x you #shimura tenko x reader #shimura tenko x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #anons #halloween 2024

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waywardrose · 9 months ago

Text

TO BRING YOU MY LOVE

star wars | kylo ren x reader | rated e | 9.4k

fem!reader, vampire!kylo, modern au, dracula inspired, dub con, predator/prey, kidnapping with restraints, derogatory language (not from kylo), guns, violence, blood and blood drinking, minor-character death, semi-public sex, historical inaccuracies

This fic fills multiple prompts (from sweet anons and the fabulous @thorfemmes) for vamp!Kylo, from his backstory to Reader affecting him to the possibility of Reader becoming a vampire. Thank you all for requesting! I hope you're still around. In case you need a refresher, the previous parts of Me and the Devil are here, here, here, here, and here. (Why don't tags work anymore? 😩) This fic can be read as a stand-alone, though! Title from "To Bring You My Love" by PJ Harvey.

“Biker gang? Pfft!” said your boss Vic in reply to a bar patron.

The agitated patron continued, describing a group of bikers led by a dark-haired man with a scar bisecting his face.

You suppressed a shudder as you mixed a simple cocktail. That sounded too familiar.

You’d begun working at Vic’s bar a few weeks ago. It was an easy job. Vic was gruff yet kind. They’d shown you around when they learned you’d just moved to the city. They even invited you home for dinner, where you’d met their sweet wife and dopey Pomeranian.

After a moment of contemplation, Vic said, “A scar…”

With a dismissive shake of their head and a frown, they poured the patron a double.

When all the patrons were distracted, Vic took you by the shoulder and steered you into the dim storeroom.

“If I’m right, and I hope to hell I’m not, that gang sounds like the Knights of Ren.” You stiffened at the name, but Vic didn’t appear to notice. “They haven’t been around here in years, but they’re dangerous. You keep your head down, got it?”

You nodded as if you didn’t know exactly who Vic was talking about.

“Why would they be back…?” Vic asked more to themselves than you. “Fuck if it matters. We’re closing early for the rest of the week. Ain’t no one living it up while they’re here.”

In a caring tone you hadn’t heard from anyone in months, they said, “Anyone hollers at you, you ignore them. Just keep walking, yeah?”

You nodded again, though you doubted ignoring catcalls would save you.

Vic walked you back to the bar and told you to polish the clean wine glasses.

With numb hands, you carefully buffed water spots from each glass and slid them in the rack above the bar.

The next evening, Vic’s wife called. She never called, so it must’ve been important. Vic rushed out with only an offer to return to help close. You’d assured them you could handle it.

Just as Vic predicted, there hadn’t been many patrons. One of the last — a regular — expressed his disgust for the way everyone was pussyfooting around at night. He didn’t think the sun was going to stop the Knights of Ren from striking.

Oh, little did he know…

As the regular swirled the last of his bourbon, he said, “If they’re out there, no lock’ll keep them out if they want in.”

You politely agreed with a hum. No lock could keep Kylo away.

You didn’t know how you’d make it to your place if the Knights of Ren really were out there.

“Thanks for listening, kiddo,” the regular said before knocking back the rest of his drink and standing. “You watch out, though, pretty thing like you.”

He left a generous tip.

Closing went quickly after that. You clicked off the neon signs in the window, wiped down the bar and tables, mopped the floor, and pushed in the chairs. After shuttering the bar’s front, you snapped the tarnished padlock closed as quietly as possible. It clunked against the latch just as something glinted at the corner of your vision.

The hairs at the back of your neck rose. Your heart leapt into your throat.

You bolted.

You didn’t dare look back. It would’ve only slowed you down. You didn’t want to see a flash of red eyes and black hair, either. That would’ve paralyzed you. And you needed to run. You needed to run as fast as your legs could carry you—

Though you knew you couldn’t win — not against someone like Kylo.

No. No, no, no.

You couldn’t think like that. You’d gotten away before. You’d do it again. It didn’t matter how he kept finding you.

With a pause, you scanned the unremarkable street. You were far from the bar now. You propped yourself with a palm against gritty breeze block. Your thighs ached and lungs burned, all the more obvious now that you’d stopped running. You panted, throat desert-dry and mouth sticky. Tilting your head back, you tried to catch your breath.

The inky sky was as empty as the streets.

And you didn’t know where you were anymore.

You bit your lip and silently berated yourself for not paying attention as you ran. It was especially foolish considering you hadn’t been in the city for long. Unfamiliar streets looked more so in the dark. Questions dropped from your mind to settle heavy in your gut.

Where could you go now?

Your place wasn’t safe.

Who could you ask for help?

You didn’t want to put anyone in danger. No one would help a stranger at this time of night, anyway. Especially not when the Knights of Ren had been seen prowling.

Did Kylo know you were here?

He had to have sensed you. Your blood called to him. It must be the reason they were here.

A soft shuffle behind you threw you into action. You dashed down the street, away from the noise, away from the Knights of Ren. Surroundings blurred. Streetlights punctuated the dark. Your ragged breathing drowned out all other sounds.

You turned right, then left, then another right.

Before long, you had to slow. Your legs nearly gave out. You felt like you were running in circles. Everything remained unfamiliar, yet a sense of déjà vu remained. That storefront looked similar to one a few blocks back. Same with the pile of leaking garbage bags at the curb.

Or were they new?

You skidded to a stop by an unlit alley and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

You were alone. Not even a rat skittered. You slumped against the nearest building. A bead of sweat trickled above your eyebrow.

Whispering a curse, you wiped it away and inhaled lungfuls of air.

“You made this game quite easy.”

You froze. That oh-so familiar voice came from the alley.

“It’s like you want me to catch you, sweetness.”

As if made from the misty shadows themselves, Kylo’s silhouette manifested at the edge of a cone of streetlight. He leaned a shoulder on the nearby wall, insouciant.

Fear, like jagged ice, kept you immobile. The connection you had with him yanked at your breastbone. You grappled with the lure of stepping closer.

“You must be exhausted.”

You staggered away, feet nearly tripping over each other in your haste. The cracked concrete went indistinct as you turned to sprint. Arms like iron wrapped around your middle and pulled you into the alley. You stiffened, though you knew better.

A victim was supposed to go limp. It made an attacker work harder.

You squirmed between stiff and limp, kicking your feet. You drew yourself up to scream. A huge hand — warm, he’d just fed — covered your mouth.

Your muffled cries fell on a deaf city.

He tutted. “None of that.”

You couldn’t stop. There was a chance to get away. If only you could loosen his hold. You clawed at the arm around your waist. No tugging or scratching earned you freedom.

Blood-scented breath ghosted over your neck. A nose nuzzled into your hair. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear.

Kylo breathed, “I have missed you.”

You paused at his sincerity, eyes closing.

No, you couldn’t give in.

You pulled at the hand covering your mouth. When it didn’t move, you slapped it. He let his hand drift to your shoulder, but not before his fingertips caressed your lips. You wanted to spit the feeling off.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

You hissed, “No,” and elbowed him in the ribs. “No.”

He tutted again. “You wound me,” he said, though he hardly sounded hurt.

He tucked his firm body against yours off-center and placed a tender kiss on your neck.

A shiver rolled through you, bringing with it memories of pleasure and promises.

“Stop it! Lemme go!”

“Back to that?” He sighed. “After all we’ve been through?”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my sweet.” His hand slid to your throat, making you stretch and inhale. “Yet every time you flee.” His grip tightened and voice hardened. “Every time you seek my wrath.” He canted your chin to expose your jugular. “And every time you lock horns with me, it’s others who get hurt.”

You’d caused someone to suffer. Or maybe die this time.

“Don’t fret. It was quick,” he said. “They didn’t have time to scream.”

Vic. That was what their wife’s call must’ve been about.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A delicate tear rolled into your ear.

You’d killed them. You hadn’t meant to choose them, but you had. By keeping their company, you’d sicced Kylo on them. You knew what he was capable of. You realized it years ago. He’d killed so many.

Your gut twisted.

Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?” You shook your head as much as you were able. “I don’t— I never wanted—” You swallowed around a dry throat. “Fuck, why?”

Why me? Why do you want me? Why do you care? Why don’t you kill me already?

Kylo’s hold loosened. His hand traveled to splay across your upper chest.

“I want to give you everything. All of me.”

His hand disappeared, and two fingers guided your chin to the side. You complied and opened your eyes.

“Anything you want. Just stay by my side.”

You studied his dark pupils rimmed in red, seeing his hunger and ruthlessness and loneliness. None of that had been apparent when he’d barged into your life.

“Just give me your heart.”

“I don’t want—”

He cut off your protest with a kiss.

You hadn’t protested at the start. It felt good to be desired by a dreadful monster like him. He’d opened himself, answered every question.

He’d told you about his mortal life. His mother Leia Skywalker had been part of the dvoryanstvo — Russian nobility. She’d run away to the United Colonies, where she’d fallen in love with some reprobate. Being a proper lady, she’d married him, bedded him, and proceeded to get with child. Leia ran home when colonial life no longer suited her. She’d had her child — a son: him — during the crossing.

Since Leia was married, and Kylo not a bastard, they were welcomed at court. The reprobate soon followed. The tsarina found the Amidala-Skywalker and now -Solo clan quite the curiosity. The tsar enjoyed Solo’s hunting skills.

Kylo said he remembered standing with his grandmother and mother to watch the gilded debutantes being presented at court. His grandmother whispered innocent gossip to him between introductions. His mother appeared to ignore them, but she listened just the same.

On a snowy evening mid-season, Armitage Hux, a distant cousin of the tsar, returned from the west. Accompanying him was a peculiar Dr. Snoke. The tsarina was captivated by Dr. Snoke as though spellbound. She favored Dr. Snoke, going so far as to appoint him court physician.

Armitage took to strutting about every dinner and ball. He was obsessed with Dr. Snoke’s scientific experiments, discussing results in esoteric terms. He collected blood from the hares, foxes, and deer during hunting excursions. At first, Kylo assumed like everyone else it was for these experiments.

Then he found Armitage in Dr. Snoke’s laboratory with bloodstained lips, a beaker of fresh blood in his hand. In a frenzy, Armitage explained that blood wasn’t only a humor. It was the source of life.

You’d stopped him to ask why he’d been visiting Dr. Snoke’s lab. Kylo replied Dr. Snoke had wanted him to read a few books from his private collection. Dr. Snoke promised more knowledge than the tutors his mother hired. Naturally, Kylo had been intrigued.

Intrigued enough not to run from the laboratory.

Armitage showed Kylo a chart of his own making on the distillation of power — “a force connecting everything” — through the blood, from feeble insect to apex predator. Armitage was certain one could accumulate this power by devouring the essence of weaker creatures.

Kylo understood the logic, yet something about how Armitage explained it troubled him. With that reasoning, the most potent essence would be from their fellow man. That sounded taboo.

When he next saw Dr. Snoke, he mentioned Armitage’s alarming hypothesis. Displeasure flashed across Dr. Snoke’s face. Kylo thought he’d made a mistake by broaching the topic. However, Dr. Snoke explained he’d been putting off that lesson until Kylo had more scientific understanding.

In his arrogance, Kylo insisted he could grasp any lesson Dr. Snoke wished to teach.

He thought privately Armitage, who everyone knew to be a bastard, wouldn’t best him. It hardly mattered how many lies his father Brendol spouted. Brendol Hux hid some misfortune for the crown and used that fact to force his family upon the rest of the court.

Dr. Snoke promised Kylo wisdom beyond anything he’d been exposed to thus far. He asked when, and Dr. Snoke offered him an apprenticeship. Dr. Snoke would be journeying west once more in the spring. Kylo could join him.

His mother forbade it. She attempted to lure him into staying by introducing him to any debutante who would indulge her. She bargained. She cajoled. She bribed. When she remained unsuccessful, she turned their whole family against him. Their objections were all they’d discuss with him.

Towards the end of March, the ice broke on the river, and the snow started to melt. He left his family home in the small hours of the night. He met Dr. Snoke and Armitage at the harbor and boarded a ship headed for France.

At every port along the way, Dr. Snoke disappeared while Kylo and Armitage dined. He asked Armitage if he knew where Dr. Snoke went, but Armitage lied when he said he didn’t. Apprehension kept Kylo from asking Dr. Snoke directly.

Kylo said he realized much later he had asked Snoke, but Snoke made him forget.

In Gothenburg, he gathered the courage to follow Dr. Snoke. He feigned a sour stomach to avoid dinner. The sun had just fallen below the horizon. Townspeople lit their outdoor lanterns. None appeared to notice Dr. Snoke trekking through the streets, which seemed improbable since the doctor was exceptionally tall and dressed in foreign garb.

Dr. Snoke turned down a side street as if he were familiar with the city. Kylo waited at the corner to observe Dr. Snoke halt at an open gate. Dr. Snoke’s demeanor went from innocent visitor to ravening fiend in the blink of an eye. His shoulders hunched. His hands became claws. His shaved head suddenly reminded Kylo of a vulture.

Dr. Snoke darted through the gate. Kylo expected to hear the scuffling of feet or a scream, but there was only silence.

Kylo ran to the gate to find no one. He turned first to where he’d come from, then down the street. Both sides were deserted. He didn’t understand. No one simply disappeared.

He took a step forward to investigate. The lifeless body of a girl hit the stones before he could take another. Her dark braids wreathed the splatter of gore. Her joints bent at wrong angles. He stumbled backwards, heel catching. Strong hands caught his shoulders and spun him.

He found himself staring into the red, hypnotic eyes of Dr. Snoke.

“I see you couldn’t stay on the ship,” said Dr. Snoke, who tilted his head like a great hunting cat.

Kylo saw his fangs for the first time.

“And now you wonder if Armitage has known all along.”

Which was true.

“He has,” Dr. Snoke said, sliding his hands to Kylo’s neck and turning down the collar of his overcoat. “So, tell me, are you in danger?”

Tears welled in Kylo’s eyes as he whispered, “I’ve always been in danger.”

“Too right.”

Dr. Snoke struck then. His sharp teeth pierced Kylo’s jugular and drank deep. Kylo felt the sinful pull in his groin. Despite that, he shoved at Dr. Snoke’s chest. It was as though he’d lost his strength. He felt like a pup taking on a bear.

He opened his mouth to protest, though no sound came.

Dr. Snoke held him tight, pressed him to the nearest brick wall, and ground between his legs. Kylo’s gorge rose, but his body didn’t have the strength to heave.

He knew he was dying. Dr. Snoke was killing him. Dr. Snoke would use him until there’d be no more. A spark of anger flared in his gut. He balled his hands into fists and struck Dr. Snoke. His furious heart hammered behind his ribs. This wasn’t supposed to be his death. He wouldn’t end here.

He croaked broken words, groaning at the effort.

Dr. Snoke withdrew with a chuckle, blood trickling down his chin.

“Such resolve! Such strength!” He grasped Kylo’s chin. “You think you have the stamina, Young Solo?”

This was what Armitage had spoken of. There was power in the blood. Dr. Snoke had discovered a way to harness it. He had kept the truth behind Armitage’s collecting blood and his own scientific experiments hidden. They’d lied to him.

Kylo snarled.

Lovingly, Dr. Snoke said, “Beautiful beast,” and smiled, bloody teeth flashing.

Dr. Snoke unsheathed his blade and slit his own wrist. Blood, dark like a desiccated rose, oozed from the cut. The scent of it familiar and ancient.

He watched his hands bring the wound to his mouth. Blood smeared over his bottom lip and poured into his mouth like scalding rain. He dissolved into unknown pleasure, torn apart as if ravaged. He was destroyed and built anew with Dr. Snoke’s blood.

He experienced everything at that moment: the metal taste on his tongue, the hint of spring in the air, the way their hearts synchronized for a second, the emptiness of his veins, the magic in the blood permeating every fiber of his being.

It happened so quickly it was dizzying. It was a taste, then a fact.

The infinite stretched out before him, all possibilities spread like the fan of playing cards on a table.

He’d told you Dr. Snoke became simply Snoke and Armitage had been satisfied as an unaging thrall. When you’d asked what happened to Snoke and Armitage, Kylo replied he didn’t know. He’d escaped Snoke’s clutches decades earlier.

He’d said how grateful he was to have found you: a comfort like he’d never known. His eyes had been so warm.

Yet his eyes weren’t warm when he’d caught you.

You pushed at him, but Kylo’s grip was unyielding. Your protests only inspired him to strengthen his hold. He gripped your jaw to open your mouth. You mewled as he teased your tongue with his own. It knocked the breath from your lungs, as it always did.

The hard length of his cock against your hip made you shiver. Maybe shudder. You wanted him, yet you shouldn’t. He was terrifying, yet putty in your hands. He was a killer, yet wanted to be your weapon.

Gentle fingers crawled under the loose hem of your shirt, brushing the skin above your waistband. His arm tensed. He was going to tear you open, claw at your tender belly.

You thrashed to get away before he could.

Kylo broke the kiss and tightened his hold on your jaw.

“Stop this, or I’ll give you a fucking you can’t walk away from.”

Your breath seized. He meant— He wouldn’t— Oh God, yes, he would. He would force his cock in your ass and drink your blood until you passed out. While he’d never done that to you, he’d done it to one of Armitage’s lackeys. He’d said it was for a transgression.

You’d gone beyond a simple transgression. You’d been running from Kylo for over two years.

“Kylo, please,” you said as your vision blurred with tears. “Please, just let me go.”

You knew he wouldn’t.

He pulled away.

You teetered from a lack of support and weakened legs. He caught your upper arm and shoved you against the wall. You braced yourself on bent arms. The bricks’ texture caught at your shirt and palms. The scent of wet stone and musty mildew invaded your nose.

He cradled your hips and asked, “Let you go…?”

His lips caressed your neck, dragging up your skin. You wanted to flinch from his touch, but he moved down until his forehead rested on your shoulder.

“How many times must we go through this? This game of cat-and-mouse?”

A hand slid up your side and rounded your ribs to cup a breast. You closed your eyes as a frisson of pleasure had your nipple tightening.

“How many people must I go through for you to see we can’t be separated?”

He squeezed your breast just this side of too harsh. You bit your lip. His other hand wended around your waist.

“How many times do I need to fuck you for that to sink in, hm? Surely by now you understand your place.”

He released your breast to tug at the button of your jeans.

Your eyes flew open as you pushed at his hand.

“Kylo, no.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “You need to accept it.”

He undid your jeans and spread the fly.

You realized you’d been a fool to think you could get away. You’d been a fool to believe he wasn’t still Snoke’s, that your love alone would change his heart.

You batted at his forearms, then gripped his wrists. He didn’t budge at your scrabbling hands. He barely reacted to them. Instead, he brushed his lips against the side of your neck.

You stiffened, anticipating the bite of fangs.

“I can’t, I can’t— Kylo, I don’t— I never wanted—”

You’d only wanted the person behind the monster.

It was a tragedy they were one and the same.

Kylo stilled, his lips a scant centimeter from your skin.

You stilled. Your words had been a mistake. Just like leaving him behind had been a mistake. And the most egregious mistake: getting involved with him in the first place.

Despite that being true, Kylo was correct about never wanting to hurt you. He never had. He could and had hurt others, but never you. He’d bitten you, drank your blood, gripped your hips hard when he took you.

But he didn’t hurt you.

In fact, he made you feel good. He made you writhe and moan with blinding, white-hot pleasure. Your mind went blank when he thrust his thick, monstrous cock into you. That might be worse than any fist or fang. Pain you could get over, but pleasure not as easily.

He whispered, “I think you need a reminder of where you belong, sweetness.”

Those words reverberated you into the past. That night had been like this one: quiet, starless, and calm. Until it wasn’t.

The world had tilted on its axis when someone threw you into an SUV while you’d been checking your mailbox after work. Terror choked off your screams before they even gagged you. Rope looped around your wrists and ankles tight enough to bruise.

A long-fingered hand seized your chin and made you meet blue eyes as the vehicle started moving. The man would’ve been handsome with his angular face and long ginger hair if not for the contemptuous sneer marring his full lips. His gray suit was Savile Row crisp, and his black Chelsea boots gleamed in the overhead light.

“Ren’s precious little blood-whore,” he spat and threw your head to the side, where it bounced against the back of the bench seat.

“You sure about this?” the driver asked.

“He will capitulate for this one. Snoke foresaw it.”

At the name “Snoke,” you wiggled away until your back hit the door. Your kidnapper appeared bored and pulled a pistol from his jacket. He braced his arm between the seat and his chest to aim at your face.

You looked from the steady pistol to his face and back again.

“Listen well, you stupid slut,” he said. “You are in no position to escape. You chose this the moment you let that fool into your life.”

You wanted to protest that you hadn’t let Kylo into your life. He’d slithered in on his own.

A tiny voice replied, And you let him stay.

You had. You’d done nothing to stop him, even after it was apparent what a monster Kylo could be.

You’d curled into the corner to stare out the SUV’s tinted windows. They’d tied the knots at the back of your hands, so you couldn’t reach them. You certainly wouldn’t dare bring them to your mouth to work them open with your teeth.

When the SUV stopped, they manhandled you through an abandoned convenience store. In the stockroom, a bald man sat at a bare card table. Scars like melted wax trailed down one side of his face. He wore a gold smoking jacket, loose slacks, and velvet loafers. You nearly laughed. He looked like a Hugh Hefner cosplayer. The only thing missing was a white captain’s hat.

A hand on your shoulder forced you to sit in the folding chair across from him. When you met the bald man’s eyes, any witty remark died in your mouth. His gaze was too intense, too stern, too disapproving — and too ancient.

This was Snoke.

The gag fell from your face.

“You saw Kylo Ren yesternight, did you not?” he asked mildly.

His voice rumbled like strange thunder. He breathed in as if he could taste you on the air, like a snake senses prey.

Despite your mouth being freed, you could only bob your head.

“Yes, of course. Quite understandable now why it’s so difficult for him.” Snoke’s expression turned forgiving as he leaned over his crossed legs. “You are quite the delectable temptation.”

Your gut twisted and toes curled in your shoes at the compliment. You didn’t want to be a temptation for Snoke, nor did you want him sampling any part of you.

Crashing chaos erupted from the storefront. People screamed. Cracked steel and shattered glass exploded through the open door.

You launched yourself to the cold concrete floor, bringing your bound wrists to your mouth. The metallic pop-pop-pop of gunfire snapped overhead. You bit at the first knot and pulled. Hot bullet casings clanked nearby. The knot gave way to the next. You wrenched the next one loose, then shook your hands until the rope slipped from your wrists.

A tide of black vapor surged into the storeroom. It blinded you, but it didn’t stop you from groping for your restrained ankles. The rope there made no sense. You couldn’t find the knots.

Come on! you yelled at yourself, finding the knots. Come on!

You twisted and gritted your teeth and almost cried when you couldn’t undo them.

Light returned to the room as the vapor converged into a figure with broad shoulders and long legs. Unmistakably Kylo. It was the first time you’d remembered seeing him do something like that.

However, you couldn’t focus on him. He was fine. On the other hand, you had to free yourself and escape.

Black boots planted themselves on the floor, spread hip-width apart. Yards beyond them lay the lifeless body of your kidnapper, his head rotated at an unnatural angle. That lovely ginger hair veiled his closed eyes.

You pulled your gaze away to untie the knots.

“Ah, Kylo Ren,” Snoke said warmly. “Thank you for honoring my summons for once.”

Kylo replied with a tight, “Master.”

As quietly as you could, you pulled the knots loose and unwrapped your ankles. Snoke and Kylo had to have known you were still alive, but you didn’t want Snoke directing his attention to you. Nor did you want to distract Kylo.

Snoke’s voice sounded as though he had multiple voice boxes when he ordered, “Come. Kneel.”

Kylo staggered to Snoke and dropped to his knees.

Your mouth went dry. Your heart beat double-time. You were about to witness Kylo’s death. Snoke would take his head and drain you dry. Or worse: make Kylo kill you.

You couldn’t let either of them do that. You wouldn’t allow Snoke to torture him like that. Not like this. Not ever.

Even if it meant not being with Kylo again.

You eased to your knees and crept around your chair. Kylo’s back was to you, but Snoke faced the door. There was no way to leave without Snoke seeing.

“Where are you going, myshonok?” Snoke asked.

You went rigid, one knee hovering above the floor.

“Join me at the table.”

If you sat, what horrors would you witness? What would he make you do? How angry was he?

“Sit.”

“No,” Kylo ordered. “Ru—”

Snoke silenced him with a blow.

Kylo’s head jerked back, blood arcing from his face.

You gasped, already on your knees.

“I said,” Snoke repeated. “Sit.”

You were in the chair before you made the decision to stand. Your brain filled in the gaps: you stood, took the necessary steps to come around the chair, and sat.

“Stay. Be quiet.”

You glanced at Kylo. Blood bisected his cheek and tracked to his forehead. You waited for the cut to heal, but it didn’t. It just bled.

That didn’t make sense.

“Kylo Ren, I’ll give you a choice — like I do in all things,” Snoke said lightly, as if he hadn’t just wounded his progeny. “You can erase your presence from her mind, you can kill her, or you can turn her.”

“No, Master, don’t—”

“You’ve forced my hand in this matter. She knows too much.”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, then:

“If I take her memory, you’ll leave her in peace.”

“Her, yes.”

You mentally screamed for him to refuse. Snoke agreed to you being left alone, but not Kylo. You couldn’t allow Snoke to take him from you.

You willed through Snoke’s hold to say, “Turn me, Kylo, change me. Just don’t go, don’t let him—”

Snoke said, “You belong to him. It’s not your decision.”

The hell it wasn’t.

You wanted to race for the street, get away from them both, yet your feet wouldn’t obey. You gripped the seat of your chair hard enough your fingers went numb.

To Kylo, he said, “Do it.”

You shook your head as Kylo shuffled closer.

Please don’t do this. Please snap out of it. Please, please, please…

A single metallic pop rang through the storeroom. Kylo cried out, gripping his shoulder, and toppled against the table. Another pop. Snoke’s expression went from smug to shocked. Blood burst from his chest.

Snoke’s hold disappeared.

Kylo yelled, “Go! Run!”

You threw yourself out of the chair and sprinted through the store. Broken bodies, warped metal shelves, and shards of glass littered the floor. You sidestepped and leapt over each obstacle, not allowing your gaze to linger on any of it.

“Kylo!” Snoke bellowed and continued in a language you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t leave Kylo back there, though, bleeding and at the mercy of his maker.

Kylo yelled for you to go again.

You ran out of the convenience store and never looked back.

And you never stopped running.

Because nowhere was safe — not with Snoke out there and Kylo potentially under his control.

Kylo now sucked harshly at your neck, claiming you. Your thighs trembled as a big hand snaked inside your underwear to caress your belly. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“Spread those legs for me.” He gripped the curve of your belly, fingers teasing your pubic hair. “I’ll remind you of your place.”

He cupped your mound. Two fingers dipped into your slit. It was mortifying to feel yourself slick.

He chuckled low in his chest.

“You’re going to moan for me.”

You shook your head and hid your face. You didn’t want him to see how you bit your lip to stifle your voice.

He pushed two thick fingers inside your cunt, filling and stretching. You gasped. It had been too long. He murmured soothing words against your neck while he massaged you from the inside. His palm pressed against your clit.

You tried not to move, to quiver, to make a sound. You told yourself it shouldn’t feel so good. You should push him away and run.

His other hand slid up your torso to cup one of your breasts. This time, he was gentle. The fingers inside you pumped slowly while he massaged your breast and teased the nipple. You were caressed, from the full lips nuzzling at your neck to the patient hand between your legs.

Kylo knew your body too well, and you hadn’t experienced his touch in so long. It haunted your lonely hours. Your own touch hardly compared.

“You’ll whimper my name and ask for more.”

He scissored his fingers to stretch your needy cunt.

You nearly asked him for more right there, but he continued:

“And you’ll come on my cock when I give it to you, won’t you?”

You jerked in his hold. He answered by pushing forward to grind the mound of his erection against your ass. He dragged the tips of his fangs over your skin, nipped at the sore spot he’d already sucked there, before placing the softest kiss.

“Exactly like you always do, my sweet.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs.

You opened your mouth to protest. He moved quicker than any human to turn your head, fingers wet with your juices, and silenced you with a kiss. His tongue swiped across yours, warm and exhilarating. You returned the kiss and tunneled your fingers into his thick hair, brushing the subtle point of his ear. He plunged his hand into the front of your underwear again.

Unerringly, he found your clit and swirled hypnotic circles around it. Your pussy became wetter by the second, easing the glide of his fingers.

Against your parted lips, he said, “That’s how it’ll always be.”

But you weren’t Kylo’s blood-whore. Your kidnapper had been wrong. They all were wrong about you.

Kylo kissed you, claiming and deep and wrong and so filthy, you couldn’t mute a moan. He found a rhythm on your clit that made your cunt flutter and breath catch. You fisted his hair as you panted between sharp kisses.

You wanted to cover yourself and hide when his lips curled in a knowing grin.

You tore your mouth from his.

“Stop,” you said, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He ignored you, his clever fingers sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.

“I don’t… I can’t—” You clenched your jaw as your thighs quaked and muscles tensed. You were so close, orgasm building. “Kylo, I— I’m…”

He slipped his hand from your underwear, leaving you desperate for relief. Your cunt weakly pulsed as your orgasm died. You panted and let your forehead fall against the damp wall. Your combined shadows stained the concrete.

Kylo held your heaving ribs. He trailed delicate kisses along your nape. It was at once a connection and a reminder he could tear your spine out.

Wet fingers traced your bottom lip. You smelled the tang of your own arousal and clenched your teeth.

Kylo nosed at your ear to whisper, “I want to taste you on your tongue.”

You’d done that for him countless times. It drove him mad. He’d suck your flavor off your tongue while moaning and grinding his hips. He’d hold you tight while growling praises in your ear and working his big cock deep inside.

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes closed, despite knowing you’d ultimately lose this war. The only thing you could do was oppose his every pleasure in this last battle.

“Why are you still fighting me, sweetness?” he asked.

Your breath went uneven and your chest trembled.

You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to fight him—

But Snoke.

Snoke was out there. He’d force Kylo to ruin what you two had.

The thought made tears flood your eyes and stream down your cheeks. When you sobbed, Kylo pushed two fingers between your teeth and pried open your jaw. You didn’t have to see it to sense his heated gaze. Kylo always — always — watched you.

The taste of salt and blood and musk coated your mouth. You refused to participate, remaining still as his fingers explored your tongue. Every measured stroke of his fingers tantalized — and aroused — no matter how much you denied it.

He withdrew his fingers and asked, “Why are you fighting me?”

“Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t take me back to Snoke.”

Kylo nuzzled your cheek and shushed you. He kissed away your tears as slick digits smeared against your lips.

Your breath shuddered around a powerful unease expanding in your gut. You’d been foolish to think you’d get away. This was only delaying the inevitable. Kylo was toying with you. No doubt he had every intention of dragging you in front of Snoke where they’d decide your fate.

You were Kylo’s, and Kylo was Snoke’s. It was in the blood. Not even bleeding yourself dry would grant you a reprieve. The connection you had with Kylo wouldn’t fade, even with death.

“I can’t take you back to Snoke.”

“What? He’ll hunt—”

“No, he won’t.”

You half-turned to look into Kylo’s dark eyes and found him undaunted.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m Master now.”

His eyes flared red, brighter than before.

You shook your head. What had happened in the time you’d been gone? Why hadn’t he told you from the start? Why had he hurt everyone around you?

“His power resides in me alone,” Kylo said. “And now I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”

Not giving you time to form a question or voice it, he put his hand around your throat and crashed his lips against yours. Flesh ground against bone. His fingertips bruised. You were the meat to his butcher.

He groaned after a moment, as though relishing the near violence.

“Open.”

This time, you did.

He kissed you tenderly, sucking on your swollen bottom lip. His fangs grazed your skin. He flicked your tongue with his. You shivered at the silken touch of his preternatural tongue.

He made a satisfied sound deep in his chest at the taste of your arousal.

“Where is your place in this, sweetness?”

You blinked through the haze in your mind. You couldn’t form a reply.

“I…”

With a merciful shush, he turned you to face away. You placed your palms on the dirty wall. His hands caressed your sides until his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

He couldn’t— Not here—

The haze fractured.

“No, Kylo, we can’t!”

He pressed you hard against the wall and put a hand across your mouth. Your underwear and jeans continued to slip down your hips.

“We can. I own the night and everything in it.”

Which included you.

Your lower body followed his as he straightened until your back was a perfect arch. The clammy air whispered between your legs, cooled your inner thighs. He kicked your feet farther apart.

Your eyes widen. He was going to take you like this, for anyone to see.

Your breath hitched at the press of his fingers at your soaked hole. He teased with swirling touches. You tried to keep your hips still, because moving was agreeing. It was acquiescing.

Kylo slid two fingers inside. Your cunt clenched around the intrusion. He purred and encouraged you to rest your head on his shoulder. He pushed deeper, slowly cycling his fingers. You rotated your knees inward, though you couldn’t fathom how your legs kept you upright.

His fingers retreated and pressed in, languid and thorough, as if trying to touch every part of your cunt. You turned your head to lean your forehead on his jaw.

He braced himself with a hand on the wall. You touched the back of his hand with shaking fingers. The fingers inside you sped.

You gasped, then bit the inside of your cheek.

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” he asked. “Your sweet little pussy isn’t used to this.”

You bit harder. You could only focus on his fingers fucking you open. He twisted his hand until his knuckles rubbed over your g-spot. You squirmed and swallowed a whimper.

“Let go, let me hear you. It’s just me and you here.”

“Ky-Kylo, please! Don’t— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

A third finger eased inside to stretch you even more. Bolts of hot pleasure had you losing your breath. His fingers moved in measured thrusts, over and over. You clung to the wall as your knees almost buckled.

Then he pulled away. You twitched back to follow him or encourage him to continue. Full lips brushed your temple. His big hands took hold of your hips and raised you onto your toes.

“Just like that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. He was going to take you here. If you tried to flee, he’d catch you within two strides.

Did you want to flee, though?

His touch left your body, giving you the opportunity. The metallic sound of his zipper opening held you in place. It had been too long. The weight of your connection to Kylo fixed you to the spot.

Heat smeared across your inner thigh. Knuckles brushed the underside of your ass. Then the thick tip of his cock parted your folds. You arched your back further, knowing what was coming.

Yet it didn’t come.

Kylo kept sliding his cock in your slit. He teased your stretched hole and the exposed bud of your clit. He did it until you rocked with him.

“Your place has always been in my bed.” He pressed his hard chest to your back. “Will always be. Beside me. With me.”

Your vision swam. The bricks blurred.

“Don’t ever forget it.”

A voluptuous pressure at your entrance made your eyes go wide. Hot tears spilled over your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond, though you’d never forget his words.

Without warning, Kylo snapped his hips to impale you halfway down his cock. Beyond your control, a choked animal noise left your chest to resound through the empty alley. The bricks’ rough texture scraped your forearms and palms. Your body contracted around the heavy intrusion splitting you open.

Lips flitted along the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Just like this,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned his name.

Kylo tensed and latched his hands to your hips and surged forward. He buried his cock completely in your pulsing cunt, pelvis tight to your ass.

You threw your head back with a piercing gasp.

He growled like the predator he was.

It was too much. It was like the first time with him. Every nodule on his cock woke nerves long asleep. You panted and shimmied and squirmed as your body acclimated. Each minute movement only added to your growing anticipation.

He gritted out, “Just like this — wrapped around my dick.”

He drew back. You protested with a small noise. He drove forward to start a brutal pace that had your vision narrowing and the edges darkening.

“Filled with my come.”

You trembled with every thrust. Your cunt got impossibly wetter with his words. He must’ve known, must’ve felt how they made you clench. Just like you knew your body — and heart — would accept him.

It had never hurt, and a part of you hated that. You hated how your body obeyed Kylo’s command. You hated how natural it was to kiss him, how easy your lips slotted with his. You hated how he fit so sublimely in you.

It was like you’d been made for him.

He angled his thrusts, somehow hitting even deeper, stroking every sensitive spot between your legs. The hands on your hips tightened as he pounded into you harder.

You moaned and pushed back. He hissed a “yes” and found that perfect rhythm. Your head spun. You clawed at the bricks while he continued an unrelenting assault.

You swallowed gasps and cut off another moan. One of his hands swooped to your jaw, tilting it up, stretching your neck.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever.”

Your breath caught.

“No, promise.”

His voice was black silk when he said, “Taking it so well. Such a good girl.”

You almost replied you wanted to be good for him. Only him.

He must’ve sensed it, because he stopped.

“No, don’t,” you said.

“Tell me. Tell me you feel it, too. Tell me.”

Tell me tell me tell me…

“I do! I feel it!” You shook your head as much as he’d let you. “Please, don’t— Please, I… I want to be good for you!”

Kylo groaned and tucked his face into your shoulder. His cock throbbed. He was going to bite you now. You knew it, could feel it.

His front teeth jabbed into your shoulder through your shirt. His fangs were so close. You hadn’t felt the sting and pull from his bite in so long.

You writhed in what you hated to admit was anticipation. At the same time, you mentally begged him to do it. Put you out of your misery. End the chase, the uncertainty, the killings. End you, if that was the culmination of this war.

He cursed and wrenched the collar of your shirt away. Stitches popped. Fangs pierced the juncture of your neck — a momentary pain. Hot suction followed, connecting your neck to your dripping, aching cunt. It gilded the coiling, molten pleasure building in your core.

He released your hip and plunged his hand between your legs. You bucked your lower body at the touch, torn between his hand and inhuman cock.

Then he began to thrust. He stroked your clit and sucked at your neck. You felt every mouthful of blood drawn from your veins, every slick-slide of his fingers on your clit, every harsh pump of his cock.

He worked your body, even as your muscles locked. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension and pressure built until you thought you’d explode with it.

But you didn’t.

You shook with each punishing thrust as he fucked you into a devastating orgasm. It burned through you like liquid fire. Wave after wave pulled you into its surge. Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe. Heavy tears streamed down the outside of your face.

Kylo put a hand on your belly, smearing your come on your skin. His cock pistoned faster in your clenching cunt. He released your neck with a snarl. Warmth trickled over your collarbone.

“Kylo,” you mouthed.

He exhaled against your neck, breath tinged with iron.

“Plea—” Your voice broke. “Please, Kylo…”

“Please what?”

His soft tongue slithered over the tender puncture wounds.

Please, no more, you wanted to say. Please, don’t stop.

“Just… Please—”

Please take it all away.

He growled and snapped his hips forward. His pelvis slapped against your ass brutally — once, twice, three times. He buried his cock as deep as it would go before moaning. His cock pulsed. His come gushed, thick like honey, and filled you to overflowing. The warmth of it oozed down your thighs.

It was still for a brittle-edged moment.

Kylo placed his lips on your neck in a lewd mockery of a kiss. His breath puffed across your skin, as if his heart beat like a hammer. As if he had a heart.

You whispered, “Why do you keep hunting me?”

He wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Don’t you remember me saying I’d never let you go?”

Of course you did. However, people say that kind of thing in the throes of passion all the time. You assumed Kylo, despite being a vampire, was no different.

He said, “I call you my sweetness because you’re mine.”

His hands skimmed to your waist and steadied you as he eased his softening cock from your body. Your legs gave out, but he kept you from collapsing. You grabbed the bricks to catch yourself and leaned heavily on the wall, tilting out of Kylo’s hold.

Now that the sex was done, you yanked your underwear and jeans up over your hips. His syrupy come squished in your underwear and clung to the inside of your jeans. You cringed at the swampy feeling and the fact you’d let Kylo fuck you where anyone — everyone — could see.

The Knights of Ren couldn’t be far. They’d probably heard everything. Hell, they might’ve even watched.

You refastened your jeans and propped yourself against the wall in an attempt to muster a little dignity. It didn’t matter what stained your clothes now. They were already dirty with stress-sweat, come, and blood. Whatever garbage juice was splattered in the alley couldn’t make them grosser.

Kylo stood composed and less than a yard away, watching you. Always watching.

You resisted the urge to go to him and bask in his touch — the way he’d smooth your hair and cup your cheek. Like you were a beloved pet.

He’d made you his blood-whore.

The bite on your neck throbbed.

“I said I’m here to claim what’s mine. That still stands.”

You inhaled a stuttering breath and stared at his scuffed motorcycle boots.

“Snoke nearly took you from me,” he said. “You, who I want beside me every night.”

“But not forever.”

You were mortal. You would die. Time would end things, even if Snoke couldn’t anymore.

“Not forever if you keep running.”

You looked into his eyes that were the beautiful warm brown you adored. They went red. Your heart sped. They looked too much like Snoke’s.

“Stop running from me, sweetness.”

You blinked at the reverberating command. Your feet planted themselves to the concrete. You’d been running from Snoke, not Kylo. If Kylo told the truth, and Snoke really was dead, there was no point in running. You didn’t need to be apart from Kylo.

“You are everything good in my existence,” he said. “I refuse to be separated from you any longer.” He slashed at the air. “I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”

Not even you.

He’d made sure of that, too. Everyone you’d become friendly with in your mad dash from anyone vampiric had been killed. It’d been your fault. You’d acted like a spooked rabbit, running from burrow to burrow — and condemning every soul along the way.

He took a half-step closer.

“Am I not yours?”

“If you were mine, you’d know not to hurt people who’ve helped me.”

“Helped you?” He tilted his head with a huff. “Helped you? They allowed you to live in squalor.”

You let out a scornful laugh and crossed your arms over your chest.

Living in pre-furnished studio apartments or clean hostels wasn’t what you’d call squalor. It wasn’t a gothic castle overlooking a forested valley, either. Then again, no one you’d worked with lived in better conditions. Not even Vic, who only had a cozy one-bedroom.

Kylo held out a hand.

“Come with me. Let me give you what you deserve.”

You glanced at his broad palm and long, sturdy fingers. There was a time when those hands cradled you and loved you. There was a time when you didn’t know what they looked like covered in blood.

“I deserve peace,” you said.

“I can give you peace and safety. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You read between his lines. He’d give you anything as long as you stayed with him. If you explored the world on your own, you’d be exposed — as would he. You’d always be a weak point to exploit. You’d always be vulnerable. Snoke had figured that out.

You uncrossed your arms and looked into his eyes. Red encircled his irises, as though his vampire nature had been eclipsed.

“Give me your blood. Make me strong like you. Make me a vampire.”

He reared back as if you’d swiped at him. Astonishment painted his features.

“You want me to be your sire?”

“You want me beside you every night, don’t you?”

He breathed, “You love me.”

“Do you love me?”

He wet his bottom lip — such a human gesture — while his gaze darted to the side.

“I shouldn’t. It is a hindrance.” His dark eyes were like pools of deep water when they met yours. “You’ve seen what my kind do to each other.”

He indicated the scar going up his cheek. Snoke had missed ruining Kylo’s eye by millimeters.

You nodded and moved closer to touch the scar. It was a smooth, narrow groove in his blood-warmed flesh.

If Snoke had struck you like he’d stuck Kylo, it would’ve destroyed your jaw and cheekbone. You would’ve had implants and surgeries and weeks of speech therapy.

“I shouldn’t,” he repeated, and pressed your hand to his cheek.

“Neither should I.”

Not after all he’d done.

You’d hated him. You’d feared him. You thought about him every single day. You’d imagined different scenarios, from fighting him to falling at his feet to staking his heart.

He placed his other hand on your hip.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

You’d downplayed your feelings before Snoke had taken you. You’d told yourself you were satisfied with Kylo visiting a few nights every week. You had your freedom and privacy, a decent job and apartment, and a vampire lover. What more could you need?

Kylo lived in a different world, one he didn’t allow you to play tourist in. He’d said he wanted you to live a normal life. He wanted you happy and safe. At your insistence you were safe — and perfectly happy! — he exploded from the sofa where you two had been lounging. He’d flipped the coffee table and yelled you couldn’t possibly be either.

You’d ordered him out, telling him to leave and not come back until he wanted to behave. You hadn’t wanted to look at him right then. He’d rounded on you with a snarl, fangs flashing.

Then he’d been on you, kissing you, devouring you, tasting every inch of your body. He held you down and fucked you: on your knees, on your back, on the sofa, on the floor, on the upended coffee table, on your bed. You’d climaxed over and over again. He hadn’t stopped until dawn forced him to ground. You’d called in sick to work and sat in an epsom-salt bath for nearly an hour.

“I can’t leave this existence,” he now said. “I can’t leave you, either.”

“Then don’t.”

He shuffled you to the wall, his touch gentle. He always returned loving and tender, with sweet words and sweeter caresses.

“I’ll never let you go. I can’t.”

He grazed his fingertips across the clotting wound at your neck. You closed your eyes with a sigh. It should’ve stung, yet all you felt was him. He repositioned your hand from his cheek to his muscled shoulder. You slid your palm under the weight of his hair to hold his nape.

“Then don’t.”

You stared into his eyes, watching as red bloomed across his irises. It didn’t startle you any longer. The white of his delicate-tipped fangs gleamed. You drew him towards the wound and tilted your head back.

He made a desperate, hungry sound and wrapped you in his arms, supporting your head. You relaxed into his hold. Your breath shallowed.

This was the end. The end of running, of being scared, of the war you never wanted in the first place.

A faint star glimmered overhead — the lone witness to the ceasefire.

Kylo struck. He bit deeper than he ever had before. You gasped and clung to him as he drank the first mouthful. Your blood gushed with every beat of your heart.

Your feet left the ground. The night spun in a cacophony of dingy brick, velvet sky, and sodium lights. It spun and spun into a soft blur where nothing touched you and you touched nothing. Not even Kylo.

Liquid metal poured into your mouth, raging and carnal and animalistic. You swallowed. It was like swallowing a hot sea, like drowning. There was so much, too much. Energy filled you and flowed through you until you crashed against Kylo.

You opened your eyes and saw him as though it was the first time. You cradled his stunning face in your hands, his skin so new and electric. His eyes held all the warmth in the universe — its heat death quite improbable while he existed.

“I’m never letting you go,” you said, and kissed him.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren #star wars #matd #waywardrose writes

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still--kicking · 2 months ago

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Any chance u have college au fic recs where like. Either of them is struggling with just. Collegey things? Im having a rough week and I think some klance would fix it. Idk.

hi anon!!! sorry you're having a rough week, here are some generally feel good college aus for you, I hope it helps <3

Nothing's quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (50,369 words, rated T) Keith is a grumpy barista who hates his major and his job and finds abandoned kittens, Lance works at the cat shelter across the street

you need an account to read that one but I highly recommend it as a comfort read <3

Like the night falling by iybms (51,990 words, rated E) is an astronomy grad student au with stunning art from the author, where Keith and Lance are tasked with doing an astronomy outreach program in their community called astronomy on tap (which is a real thing!! they have chapters in tons of different cities)

Not that bad by varelsen (67,847 words, rated M) this college au has it all: a bit of their rivalry, a coffee shop, a motorcycle, and an arcade bar. what more could a klancer ask for

Echo my heart by TeddyKrueger (86,882 words, rated T) is a soulmate and college au where Lance is mute and tutors younger students using sign language and Keith is grumpy and doesn't believe in soulmates. Lance's coffee gets spilled on Keith (they obviously have differing opinions about who's fault it is) and then they get paired together for a semester long group project

Try if you can by aknightley (11,638 words, rated T) is one I haven't read but I trust ao3 user aknightley with my life tbh so I trust this one's a banger

And in case you haven't read it:

Dear Reader by heavily_caffeinated (80,982 words, rated M) an anonymous student makes an absolutely scathing post on Galra University's tumblr page that goes viral. Lance is determined to figure out who the anonymous author is, especially after the anonymous author starts posting about him, and enlists the help of the grumpy kid from his greek mythology class to help him uncover the author's identity.

(and there's a sequel/epilogue now too !!!!! to whom it may concern)

If you haven't read dear reader, you should start with that one tbh it's PEAK

good luck anon, I hope your week gets better and I hope these fics help <33

#klance fic recs #kicking asks #klance

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berriweb · 2 years ago

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Hello, how are you doing? If it’s alright with you, may I request pavitr, miles e-42 and 1016 and Hobie headcanons where their s/o doesn’t contact them for a week and the boys haven’t seen their s/o during that period and no one knows where they went (so pretty much went of the grid) and then one day the reader shows up and turns out, they have become the permanent host for Venom as they are completely compatible with one another and the reader apologies to the boys for not contacting them cause they were scared and had to deal with the whole symbiote thing and Venom didn’t trust the boys

╰┈➤ ❝ i have your best interests in mind ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. pavitr prabhakar, hobie brown, earth-1610! miles, earth-42! miles

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. reader goes missing after becoming a host for venom and the boys are unaware of this

: ̗̀➛ a/n. okay so im actually madly in love with idea?? many kisses to you for this request anon, hope it’s worth the wait

— PAVITR PRABHAKAR

There would absolutely nothing more devastating to Pavitr than the worry he had when you initially disappeared

He’s a super affectionate boyfriend meaning you two would likely hang 24/7 and if you’re not together then he’s always texting you or randomly calling to check up on you

So from the start when you aren’t at home for him to walk you to school and then don’t show up at school he’s caught off guard, surely you would’ve let him know if you had other plans or were sick like you always did?

He’ll text you that morning asking if everything’s okay and where you’re at, and by noon when he doesn’t get a response he slowly starts losing it

Probably checks his phone every 2 minutes, turns it off and on to see if it’s messed up and he just hadn’t received your message, etc.

By the evening he’s contacted all of your friends and family to see if they knew where you were. When it becomes apparent that none of them know where you’ve gone either is when he starts officially freaking out

Files a missing person’s report that evening and spends the rest of the night swinging around Mumbattan looking around for any sign of your face, to no avail

It only gets worse the next few days, he starts slipping up and focusing more on finding you than any Spider-Man work he normally would’ve been doing, hoping every time that he’ll catch even a glimpse of you

It wasn’t until nearly a week later that he finally got answers, having just finished up helping a woman who’d gotten mugged when he notices someone in a familiar shirt ducking into a nearby alley

The same shirt you were wearing the last time he saw you

There weren’t enough words to describe the relief that washed over Pavitr when he rushed for the alley and saw your face just as you turned your back to the road.

“Y/N!”

That relief turns into confusion when he notices how hard you jump at the sound of your own name, as well as he notices the hood from your jacket pulled over your face as if you were trying to stay hidden. When you turn to look at him, the fear in your eyes makes him stop in his tracks, and luckily so because you throw your hands up before the spider can get any closer

“Get back!”

Pavitr doesn’t understand your vagueness at first when you apologize for going M.I.A but still seem hesitant to come back with him

Until you offer to explain but only after he promises not to freak out when you show, not tell

He agrees, but doesn’t wrap his head around it until your body is suddenly engulfed in a sea of black (tentacles? liquid? he couldn’t tell) and your face is covered by rows of sharp, menacing teeth containing a slimy, and slightly unnerving, tongue and jagged white eyes

Despite the warning he still gets initially defensive, and seeing that was enough for the monster who took over you to loudly vocalize their concerns

“I told you he could not be trusted.”

For a moment it seemed like the being and you must’ve been arguing, but he could only hear it’s side of the conversation, and from the sounds of it the monster was the reason you’d gone missing

As fast as it had appeared, the demon disappeared you were standing in it’s place again. He relaxed, and you finally explained to him why you hadn’t gone back

Pavitr still seems a bit freaked out at the thought of another being living in your body, but after the initial worry he seems to be less on guard about the whole ordeal

Pavitr rushes to pull you into a hug before you could even get out your last word, tight enough to make you pat his back to try to tap out after the first few seconds. “Pav…”

He acts like he doesn’t hear you at first, but the second time you call his name he reluctantly pulls away, but only enough for you to breathe properly, and gets sheepish.

“Sorry, I just really missed you.”

Pav assures you that you have nothing to worry about and as long as your new parasite doesn’t cause any trouble he can manage, but makes you promise to never leave him worrying like that for so long again

— HOBIE BROWN

It would take him a while longer to realize something was wrong like Pav did

There have been times where the two of you haven’t talked for days due to him being off doing Soider-Man work or you just having your own life keeping you busy so not talking for a small period of time isn’t completely abnormal

The only difference? You’d always tell each other before it happened

On day one Hobie didn’t take much note of it when he came over by your place to visit after a long night fighting as Spider-Man. You’d probably been out running errands or out with friends, nothing worth stressing himself out over

Hobie wasn’t a fan of texting and calling as he preferred seeing you in person, so his phone mostly went unused unless it was an emergency

The next day Hobie decided to drop by in the evening to hang out with you in his free time, yet when he tried knocking the lack of an answer gave him the unknown feeling of something being wrong

When he resorted to the normal route (that being climbing in through your window) Hobie was surprised to be left standing on the side of the building because the window was locked

He didn’t understand the random change of heart when you almost always left it open for him to enter if he ever dropped by as Spider-Man

Hobie picked the lock and managed to slip in regardless, but the signs showing that you hadn’t been in your apartment in a while were starting to make him suspicious. All of the belongings you’d normally take with you when you left your home were still in the home, that much he realized after finally trying to call you, only to hear your phone buzzing in the room, fishing around and finding it still plugged into the wall under your sheets

You hadn’t even taken your phone?

That’s when he started to worry

With no way to contact you, Hobie chose to spend the rest of that day and the following night lounging around your place, hoping to see you walk in and explain that you’d been in a rush and give some reasonable explanation as to why you disappeared

But you don’t

He doesn’t want to entertain the thought that something bad could’ve happened to you, and even more so, he doesn’t want to believe it could’ve been related to someone finding out your relation to Spider-Man

Hobie resorts to asking around and doing his own investigating to figure out what happened to you (which mostly involved him interrogating any criminal or villain he encountered while out as Spider-Man, but that was besides the point)

He also abandons his home entirely and spends his time at your place instead in the off chance that you’ll show up

Which ends up being exactly what happens

With his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch and his head half-hanging off of the other end, Hobie found himself mindless strumming at the strings of his guitar to fill the silence that’d overtaken the room. His eyes were glued to the clock silently ticking that you’d hung up above the door to your bedroom, showing just how far into the night it was.

It’d been days since he’d seen you, and with no way to reach you and no leads on where you could’ve gone, he was running out of options to consider aside from sitting around hoping you’d return one day. He hated that option.

In the middle of running over every possibility for your disappearance in his mind, the sound of a lock clicking pulled him out of his head and his head snapped towards the door. His heart stopped for a moment, yet his hope that you’d finally come home was demolished the moment the door opened.

Hobie jumped up before he could think, guitar long forgotten, as instead of seeing you walk in, he witnessed a large (at least 7 feet) monster seemingly completely made out of black goop and baring razor sharp teeth come barreling through the door. It’s movements were calculated but it made a mess the moment it entered the door, slamming the door so hard there was an audible sound of wood splitting from the doorframe.

“I need food! Do you expect me to starve?! I can’t survive on stolen chocolate!”

Hobie had crawled up the wall and crouched from an upper corner in the room, silently wishing he’d brought his suit with him, but in no way could he have predicted this. He watched as the monster stomped around the room, seemingly throwing a fit as it argued with itself. It ran into a shelf and knocked over all of the trinkets on it, whether or not that was intentional or not. Just as he readied himself to attack was when the being turned and it’s head shot up, only then noticing the stranger who’d been watching the entire encounter.

In the blink of an eye he’d shot webs that connected to both of the monsters arms, limiting it’s movements and lunging forwards, kicking it to the ground. Unluckily for him, he couldn’t use the element of surprise twice, but the conversation that followed as he jumped to avoid it smashing him with it’s fists was more alarming than anything else.

“What about him, can I at least eat this one?”

Hobie was seconds away from flinging the monster into the wall when the black ooze started to melt away, and his movements came to a screeching halt when he realized it was your face under the mass.

To say he was surprised would’ve been a heavy understatement

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

He was, in fact, not dreaming

He immediately backed off upon realizing what he was about to start fighting was his s/o, but demanded an explanation before he lost his mind trying to come up with one himself

When you explained how you’d become a host for the symbiote and why you were so afraid and couldn’t come see him, his reaction was more collected than you were expected even considering his calm personality, but he did proceed to lightly scold you for not coming to him in the first place while understanding why you would’ve been scared to do so

When he finds out about how Venom didn’t trust him, Hobie offers to make a deal to keep the symbiote in line and keep you from having issues dealing with the being not liking your boyfriend

What exactly was the deal? Hobie let’s Venom eat all of the corrupt government officials he ends up defeating, that way everyone’s happy

— EARTH-1610! MILES MORALES

Poor Miles would be going through it

He’s not as clingy as Pav but he does get worried since you guys talk nearly every day, so just like him, when you didn’t show up to class he was beyond worried

He’d try to call and ask if something was up since you two had plans for later that day, but no answer. Alongside that, no one else has seen you around either

When he calls your family and they voice their concerns about you not coming back home the day prior is when his nerves get the better of him

Miles is a smart boy so one of the first things he does is immediately go to his dad to file a missing person’s report

Alongside that, he’s questioning any and everyone he comes in contact with about whether or not they’d seen you around

As he clapped his hands together to mock wiping dust from his palms, Miles searches for his phone that he always seems to pull out of his suit from no where (because seriously, where does he have room to hold it?), ignoring the angry curses from the bank robber he’d webbed to the outside of the building.

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s nice and all…” he mutters while typing away on his phone, which only seemed to anger the criminal anymore, evident by the vein popping in his forehead and the increase in words that definitely weren’t meant for children.

As the police sirens grew louder and the citizens who’d previously been the gunman’s hostages stood around anxiously, some attempting to get the heroes attention to ask for photos, Miles held up the phone to the man’s face and zoomed in.

“You seen this person around lately?”

It takes a week for him to finally find you (one of the worst weeks of his life), albeit it wasn’t you he was looking for initially

After being stopped in the street by an old woman complaining that she’d seen a monster lurking around the abandoned building near her apartment home and heard weird noises coming from it, Miles had gone to investigate in order to come back and happily report that there was nothing for her to worry about

Unfortunately for Miles, however, he was completely wrong, as when he crawled into the run down storage center through the roof, he caught a full view of a gigantic, inky black creature crunching on what was once the full body of a man

He would’ve been more concerned over the fact that there was a man-eating monster lurking the streets of Brooklyn had he not focused on taking down the monster first, but just as he dropped down from the ceiling is when it became aware of its presence and what he assumed was the creatures skin started to peel away until you were left standing in its place

The mask prevented you from seeing his full expression, but the way the eyes widened was enough to show his mixture of shock and confusion

Miles could only stand there, baffled as he listened to you explain your situation and how you’d become their new host. When he got a chance to speak, the first thing he brought up was how he’d technically just watched his s/o eat a man alive, only for you to reassure him that it was the only person you’d ever eaten and that he was a really bad criminal you’d had eyes on for days

It was hard for him to make sense of it and while he didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of you having to eat people to survive now, Miles will admit that as long as you aren’t devouring the innocent he can manage

“So…does this make you like- a zombie or something?”

You tried (and failed) to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his comment as the two of you sat atop the roof of the old building, watching the city. “Miles.”

“I’m just saying, Venom eat brains,” he raised one hand, “zombies eat brains,” he raised his other, then pushed the two together, “you’re kind of like a zombie. You come become a hero like me! Maybe keep the ‘eating heads’ part on the down low, though. I can even come up with a cool zombie name for you! We could be a team.”

“One, I am not a zombie, and two, what’s wrong with the name Venom?”

“It’s fine I guess, not nearly as cool as a zombie name would be though-” he stopped when your hand suddenly shot up before his reflexes could kick in and smacked him in the mouth. “-hey!”

“Sorry! That was Venom.”

Miles made a face at you, but you knew it was more or less directed at the symbiote.

“Venom said that’s a terrible idea and you’re an idiot.”

That’s not what I said.

“-in more vulgar words that I’m not going to repeat.”

He raised his hands defensively. “That’s a genius idea! Would you rather be named after brains or chocolate or something instead? Chocolate and spiders don’t go together at all.”

“Neither do zombies and spiders.”

“Point taken.”

“…”

“…what about Spider-Zom-”

“Miles.”

“Alright alright, Venom it is.”

— EARTH-42! MILES MORALES

Miles would get straight trying to find you the second he realized it’s been hours since he’s seen you and no one else has a clue where you’ve gone too

He’s not the type to be too overbearing but he is really overprotective considering you’re associated with him and the type of danger he gets himself involved in, so making sure you’re always is a number one priority for him and when he has no idea what you’re up to for a long enough period of time he gets worried

Especially considering the amount of crime in the city, for all he knows anything could’ve happened to you and if he finds out that something did and he wasn’t there to protect you he’d be devastated

Immediately let’s Uncle Aaron know to keep an eye out and that most of his Prowler business would be put on hold until he finds you because you’re more important than any vigilante work

The longer you’re gone, the more anxious he becomes and while he might not show it most of the ones he’s close to will be able to tell that something’s up

“Cálmate, Miles. The more you sit around stressing yourself out the harder you’re being on yourself for no reason. I’m sure they’ll show up any day now.”

Miles tried to take his mother’s words to heart, but knowing that you could be out there anywhere in pain or worse because of him leaves him no room to relax.

“No puedo, mamí. I have to know that they’re okay.”

His worries were starting to manifest physically, the tightness in between his brows, constant bouncing of his leg and the tapping of his fingers on any surface he could reach being clear signs of it. He was sure he’d checked his phone nearly a hundred times in the last hour alone, waiting for a call from you saying you were okay or a text from Uncle Aaron letting him know he’d found you. Something, anything. It was the fourth night in a row he’d spent up all night, completely abandoning his bed when he realized he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

His mother leaned down and placed a hand over his own to stop him from the finger tapping he hadn’t realized he’d picked up again, turning over his phone to lay it flat on his desk.

“And it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. Get some rest, I’m sure if we get any updates it won’t be in the middle of the night.”

He looked her in the eye for a moment, but any attempt to disagree was futile as he knew he couldn’t argue against her.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get some sleep.”

“¿Juras?”

“Lo juro.”

With a kiss on the cheek she left him to his own devices in his room, but as soon as the door shut and he was sure he’d heard her footsteps retreated back to her room, Miles grabbed his claws and mask and headed straight for the fire escape.

All attempts at trying to find you were futile, and while he refused to lose hope Miles was beginning to assume the worst

He never wanted to entertain the thought that you could’ve died or worse, but thankfully for him that worry was squashed when in the middle of yet another restless night, Miles suddenly heard tapping coming from his window

The one clawed glove he always kept on him was the first thing Miles reached for when he heard the initial taps on his window, but as he slowly approached the window, he paused with the glove half on when meeting your gaze as your head poked over from the edge of the windowsill.

With a mixture of confusion and surprise, he rushed to unlock and open the window, watching in awe as you climbed through, rising to your feet. He looks out the window, taking note of the fact that there’s absolutely no way you could’ve climbed up given that there was nothing to climb on and his window was far from the ground.

When you look at each other a long moment filled with silence follows, and he can’t help but notice if you’re studying his looks or judging them.

“You look tired.”

Possibly both?

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to wake you, I shouldn’t have come.”

He seems to snap out of it as soon as you start heading back for the window, reaching out to grab you by the arm.

“Wait! Stay.”

Miles would have loads and loads of questions to ask you, starting with “are you okay?” and ending with “why did you disappear on me? i was worried sick!”

Listening to you explain how you’d become a permanent host for the symbiote was almost just as hard to comprehend as when you showed it off and allowed Venom to momentarily take over you

He’d unconsciously move back without realizing it, but you retreated back to your normal self moments after just for the sake of not freaking him out

It’d take a moment to process, but when you’d show signs of guilt and mentioned leaving again and understanding if he didn’t want to be associated with you he’d stopped you again

“You really won’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Miles pulled you in for an embrace, nose pressed into the top of your head for a moment before a placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You come as a package deal now, right? I don’t really have a choice of not being cool with the whole Venom thing, no way I’m leaving you. Somos tu y yo.”

When he pulled back he noticed you make a funny face and muttered a quick no, only for a moment, and wondered what was wrong.

“It’s nothing, Venom just asked if they could eat you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I mean, I guess that means they think you’re tasty so probably good, take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

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jemgirl86 · 2 months ago

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“would you be able to share recs for sambucky AUs? more so complete AUs rather than canon adjacent or divergence (and i love a bit of angst or stakes over pure fluff)”

So, anon, these aren’t all explicitly angsty per se, but they do have high(ish) stakes for the most part, and one of them is very angsty.

Okay, so let me start by shamelessly recommending a few of my own lol

Stolen Moments, 98.8K words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

The Game of Love ,18.7K words

“You know what tonight is, right?” Steve asked, cutting him off.

Bucky didn’t quite grunt by way of replying, but it was close.

Of course he knew what was happening that night. He didn’t live under a rock. The whole country knew, and there wasn’t a New York native alive who wasn’t at least a little excited about it. Even people who had been calling the Knicks bums for the past twenty or so years were rooting for them. For the first time since nineteen ninety-nine, the Knicks had made it to the NBA Finals. Even more unbelievable, people who weren’t even from New York thought they might actually win it.

And it was all thanks to Sam Wilson.

Or: Ten years is a long time - maybe too long, but maybe not…

Baby Come Back, This is a series that currently has 6 works, 29.9K words total

Sam and Bucky are divorced, trying to co-parent, and really just trying to make it. These are their stories. Dum dum dum.

Or: This is basically a soap opera.

Now for some of my favorites:

The Looking Glass by @six2vii, 75.7K words

Famed professor and skilled empath Dr. Saamuel Wilson is back from paternity leave and ready to start his academic career anew at the School of Marvle for Mages, Mythics, and Magical Beings. He is viewed as a threat by the Consortia of Magic due to his immense power and its terrifying potential. They send the Winter Warlock, Sentinel James Barnes, to spy on him. The powerful mages clash instantly but learn to work together to defeat an even greater foe.

The First Gentleman by @glittercake, 55.7K words

Sam knew what he was signing up for when he married a senator running for Office. He knew what Riley’s job demanded. He knew the hours, the stress, the milling, and the perpetual buzz. Living his life constantly surrounded by everything, by an entire nation.

But he had always dreamed of a quiet life. A place in the country with the man he loves, acres of greenery and trees, and flowers around them. A long winding road they could drive down on a warm Sunday afternoon. A big old farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a French kitchen. Some horses and a stable, and a little creek covered with a blanket of mist in the mornings.

He gets what he wants in the most horrible of ways.

The Boys of Summer by @siancore, 84.2K words

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college.

What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

These Things That Would Eat Us by @abarbaricyalp, 18.5K words

What's supposed to be a fun summer as camp counselors soon takes a turn for the horrific when monsters attack

(Horror movie au)

Okay, so each of the authors mentioned above have multiple SamBucky AUs, and these authors don’t miss! I would recommend going through each of their ao3 accounts. I promise you will not regret it 😊

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fic recs

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waldau · 1 year ago

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congrats on your new milestone!! i really enjoy reading your work♡ could i please request mingyu+'we're in completely different leagues'+'i'm not sober enough to talk about this'

just the two of us — kim mingyu | 7,009 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i typed up a mammoth sized story (to me, at least) because i had so many thoughts. behold my longest fic ever written, patiently beta-read by the wonderful @tomodachiii. thank you for your help, tomo! ily <3 and thank you, anon, for your request!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader has massive self-doubt, gets drunk halfway through the story.

“the next time i even think of going on a date, just take my phone and force me to go out on a walk. reconnect with nature. touch some grass, maybe,” you say, kicking your feet against mingyu’s cupboard from where you’re sat on his counter.

“did you have a bad date i wasn’t aware of? was it the guy with the blue streaks?” mingyu asks, pushing the bowl of cake batter towards you. he never shies away from reminding you of the repercussions of having raw dough — that too in excruciating detail. salmonella. e. coli. things he could skip but doesn’t, just because he likes annoying you.

he lets it slide this time. you’re allowed just one big spoon, and the next time you’ll see the rest of it is when it’s baked and topped off with handmade frosting. courtesy of kim mingyu. your best friend as well as part-time chef.

“…no.”

“don’t lie to me,” he says, tilting his head. “you wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“ugh. it’s just that…every time i even think of going out on a date, i have to reset my expectations. because men can’t clear the bar, no matter how low it is.”

you take a nibble from the spoon, and it tastes so damn good. it’s crazy how mingyu manages to find time to make new recipes and perfect them despite being a world-famous model that’s modelled for almost every major fashion house. you’ve lost count of how many magazines he’s been on.

it started out as a joke when you complained about all the magazines for his first ever gig having sold out. he’d taken it upon himself to get you a very special, signed copy that you have on display with the rest of the books in your glass bookcase. just the one, though. the rest of them are all piled up under your coffee table, much to mingyu’s chagrin. at least they’re in chronological order. and you’re making sure they’re not collecting dust.

that first edition is pretty much the only thing mingyu ever teases you about, tattered as it is, and on display for whoever comes to visit you. but you’d never get rid of it, not even for a new copy. it’s a milestone mingyu deserves to be celebrated for.

“does it taste good?” he asks with a small smile and a nervous smile. as if you’d have anything except praises to heap on him. this isn’t even the first time you wonder if he’d talk like this to you if you were together — endless smiles and warm cuddles under the covers and conversations about the most random things and stolen hoodies because you’re actually dating, and not just you being a guilty friend whose imagination runs a bit wild sometimes.

he does all of those with you. but he just doesn’t like you the way you like him.

how would he be, when he’s the kim mingyu? he has his fans falling to their feet if he so much as posts a picture of his hand. he’s the most charming human being you know. he’s tall not just because of his genes but also because of all the love he holds for everyone he knows.

you’re another moon that gets to orbit in the path of the admirable planet that he is.

sometimes you don’t even know how you managed to remain friends with him after university ended. the two of you started off as being part of the same friend group, having a few shared classes and some interests that kept the two of you together apart from your friends. by the time you graduated, both of you knew enough about each other to be able to hang out without needing your mutual friends. and it was hardly your fault that you felt drawn to how warm mingyu was, how easy it was to talk to him, and how happy you felt just by being around him.

so when it came to the topic of finding a place to live, the two of you decided it would be better for you to be roommates than find a complete stranger to share a living space with, and you went from friends to best friends soon after that.

mingyu’s always been your support system for whatever you’ve wanted to do, encouraging you to do what you wanted, regardless of how it would turn out or what others would think of it. in the same way, it wasn’t anything when you encouraged him to try out a modelling gig he’d signed up for and was unsure of how he’d fare.

long story short, the shoot was a pretty good success, and soon enough he got multiple gigs, managed to earn enough money to move into a bigger house, and even offered to pay your part of the rent because he wanted you to live with him — something that made you smack him.

you no longer live together now, mainly because of mingyu’s insistence on not wanting to disturb your sleep and your daily routine with all the schedules that keep him flying over the world. you did miss the breakfast he’d make for the two you every morning, and you’d managed to work out a compromise where mingyu became your personal chef on saturdays just so he’d have some time to spend with you.

it’s far from the worst arrangement in the world, and moments like these — him putting icing on your nose — make you realize how lucky you are to have him. you generally watch movies together, or he teaches you recipes, or he listens to you talk about your life, reciprocating with his own stories. things haven’t changed that much, even though you don’t live together anymore.

but part of you wishes things did change. that mingyu would, just once, look at you the way you look at him. it’s a wonder he hasn’t once caught you staring at him, because you’ve done that more times than you can count. but you can’t help it, because he just so happens to be your whole world.

but how long is this utopia going to last for? when is he going to realize you’re just plain old you, and that maybe he’s suited for more glamorous company? people who can probably pronounce the names of all his fashion houses correctly, people he models with, people that can hang off his arm and look like they belong there? not people who like wearing shorts and an old shirt as pyjamas and have bouts of self-doubt strong enough to crush entire mountains?

“…is it that good? you zoned out a bit there,” mingyu says, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

you blink out of your daydreams. it’s not even his fault that you’re so head over heels for him, although it kind of is. no one asked him to be so good looking and polite and so damn lovely that it became easy to imagine a future with him. just like lee youngji can imagine having a future with hong jisoo because he opened a carton of milk for her, you wonder how you haven’t yet succumbed to those thoughts when mingyu is such a big part of your life. you wonder at what point you knew you were fucked.

maybe it was when you and mingyu became friends, although you’ll never know for sure.

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“your ego doesn’t need to get any bigger,” you quip, finishing off the rest of your spoon.

he just laughs. “good to know. let’s just wait for an hour till it finishes baking, okay?” he hands you a baking sheet to line the pan with. you work in silence as he fiddles with the knobs on the oven, ladling out the batter into the pan and sticking it inside once the oven’s warmed up enough.

“want to do something while it bakes? watch a movie?”

“i was thinking we could go for a walk,” mingyu says, taking off his apron. he looks ridiculous, a hulking six foot two man wearing an apron that’s comically small for him, but he takes kitchen etiquette very safely. he hangs it up on the hook behind the door. “the weather’s good, and i don’t think i’ve been out for a walk in a while.”

“what about all those texts you sent me about missing bobpul? i wonder what your fans would’ve thought of that.”

“you’re not supposed to bring that up,” he whines, and you can’t help the giggle that makes its way to your face. he’s a grown man. and he’s the most adorable one you know. “that was a moment of weakness.”

“and you trusted me with it.”

“because i trust you.”

“i…fine,” you sigh, because what can you really say to that? “it’s cute, that’s all.”

mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. “you think i’m cute?”

“i swear—”

“kidding!” he walks you out of the kitchen, hands on your shoulders, and you love it as much as you wish he didn’t do it. “we’ll be back within the hour. the cake should be ready by then.”

he hands you one of his hoodies that’s lying on the sofa before you head out. you look up at him when he presses the fabric into your hands.

“it’s cold,” he explains, but it’s muffled by the messy way he’s pulling his hoodie over his head.

“and i can deal with the cold just fine.”

“no, you’re going to stick your cold toes on my legs when we sit down to eat, and i’m not going to bear that. even if you’re my best friend.”

and no matter what excuse you make to avoid wearing mingyu’s clothes, it’s never enough. he has to see you bundled up to make sure you’re not going to freeze in front of him, although that’s a tad bit dramatic. this is one of his newer hoodies, and you can tell by the way it doesn’t smell like him just yet. maybe it’s a good thing. maybe you can stop thinking about him like that. one step at a time.

“some best friend you are,” you mumble, wearing your shoes. you look up and mingyu’s frowning at you. not the usual way; there’s a tiny frown that would’ve been imperceptible if you didn’t know him the way you do, but you’re not going to ask what’s up. he tells you things if they’re really bothering him, so you’re going to let him let you know in his own time.

he wasn’t wrong. it really is windy. you’re glad he made you wear the hoodie. you pull the sweater paws over your palms, loving the way your palms instantly become warm. mingyu flips the hood over your head and you’re about to thank him for it before he draws the strings together and ends up blacking out your vision. he finds it funny for about two seconds till you stumble blindly and end up jostling him in the stomach.

he's still wincing when you undo the strings, and you can’t help but laugh. “sorry, gyu.”

“are you, though?”

“…no.”

“thought so.”

“was it my fault?”

“no,” he says, and smiles, and you feel your heart flutter again. “not your fault.” it’s so pretty. even his smile’s so pretty. you love his canines, his little fangs that he feels weird about sometimes. if it were up to you, you’d do anything to make him love them just as much as you did, even if that something were kissing.

whoa. not again. not when he’s with you.

“so, about failed dates,” he says, looking at you. “are you actually looking for something, or do you just…go on them to pass your time?”

mingyu does this thing where he can read you to filth without even trying. it’s like he knows what’s running in your mind, or at least has the vaguest idea of it, and he says things that are basically truths you don’t want to admit to yourself out of fear of not knowing what to do about them.

“why does it matter?” you ask, a bit defensive.

he frowns. again, that little frown. you wish you could remove it. “because there’s so many other things you could be doing to spend time instead of creeping yourself out every time you go on a date. and you don’t need to keep getting yourself hurt like that if it isn’t leading to anything.”

“are you dating someone?”

mingyu pffts. “what, i can’t have advice for you without being in a relationship?”

“no,” you say immediately, backtracking. of course he can. “sorry. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but…”

“but?”

“i just wish i—”

you’re cut off by the sudden bark of a dog. you look around to find the source of the sound only to see a dog running around in circles with its leash in its mouth. it looks adorable.

“hey, buddy,” you say, crouching down in front of it. it looks up at you and barks. a happy little yip! before it continues running along in circles.

“are you lost?” mingyu asks softly, crouching down next to you. he reaches out a hand to pet its head, and the puppy leans into his touch completely. it looks familiar for some reason.

“do you have any idea whose dog this is?” mingyu asks. you shake your head. maybe you’ve seen a dog like this, not the dog itself, but you’re really not sure. he’s in the process of searching the dog’s collar, but someone yelling in the distance makes him pause. he gets up and tugs the dog by its collar. it has the name tag jamie inscribed on it.

the person yelling out for jamie is none other than one of your neighbours. you know her well. as well as you can for someone you don’t interact much with. not if you can help it.

she’s the kind of neighbour that always pokes her nose into matters that don’t bother her, the neighbour that outright shows she’s not interested in something if it doesn’t get her anything. the two times you tried to initiate a conversation with her as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor are a stark reminder of the fact that she’s not the kind of person you’d ever be friends with. you don’t know what you’ve done to rub her the wrong way, but she doesn’t look like she’ll even give you a chance.

you watch as mingyu hands over the dog to her, and once she’s done making sure jamie’s okay, she looks him up and down.

you don’t blame her. you’d do the same, a bit more subtly, but it does sting to see the way she’s probably the kind of person he should be hanging out with.

“thanks for finding jamie,” she says, all smiles. she really doesn’t need to be smiling that much.

“no worries,” mingyu says with a smile of his own. “and it wasn’t me who found jamie, by the way. it was them.” he points to you with a jerk of his thumb. you smile at her, but feel icy inside when she looks you up ad down.

“oh. are they your…” she trails off with a smile on her face that screams no fucking way. you suddenly wish you could just run back to your apartment and leave the two of them down here.

“partner? you think so?”

“just…you two look like opposites, that’s all. sometimes opposites don’t attract, but you never know. life’s funny sometimes.” she simpers a little, and your hands ball up into fists by your side.

what you don’t expect is for mingyu to throw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into himself. “yes, actually,” he says, leaning into you in a way that most definitely exaggerates your height difference. “you could call them my better half. and don’t they look good in this hoodie? it’s mine, by the way,” he says, and you can recognize the smile on his face — it’s a fake one, the corporate one he adopts when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.

his words keep buzzing in your mind as you walk past your neighbour and back upstairs to your apartment. he’d said you were a couple so easily, even though you were not. better half? really? the way he’d leaned into you so easily, the fact that he told her it was his hoodie. it’s…weird. and too much for you.

you don’t speak much as you help mingyu remove the cake from the oven, getting it ready for frosting. he manages to get an indignant sound when he manages to get some on your cheek this time, but the rest of the evening is spent thinking about the interaction you had.

is it really so unbelievable for people to imagine the two of you together?

“hey,” he says, bumping your side with his. except he miscalculates his strength (or does it on purpose) and ends up making you stumble a few steps away from him. you don’t even have it in you to be mad when you see the giggle on his face. “you good?”

“yes. sorry,” you say, opening the refrigerator to take out the food mingyu had made last night. he cooks enough to feed a family of four even though you’re the only one that lives at your place, so it’s useful for when you don’t feel like cooking.

“who was she?” mingyu asks, setting down the plates on the table. “a friend?”

you shudder at the thought of her being your friend. “a neighbour. she lives in the flat down mine. she’s not really the kind of person i’d be friends with, but jamie’s cute. i keep seeing him around sometimes.”

“hmm.” you get the smell of reheated noodles as mingyu works at the stove. “she was…weird.”

“that’s an understatement.”

“is she always like that?”

“rude?”

“yeah. that’s not something you’d say to a couple you see, even if you don’t like them.”

“she certainly doesn’t seem to care,” you say, a bit more forceful than necessary, setting down two glasses as well.

“well, i think we’d make a cute couple,” mingyu says, a little smile on his face as he reaches out to ruffle your hair.

you swear your heart dies a little right then and there. you stare at him unblinkingly. “do you ever hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?” you ask, regaining your bearings and filling the glasses with water.

“sorry,” mingyu says, sheepishly. “i just don’t like the idea of anyone talking like that. especially with you. especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

your heart warms at that. “thank you, gyu,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. bad idea. you’d forgotten how much he’s been working out recently, and how big he is. “i’m glad i could one-up her this time.”

“just call me the next time you want to do it again.”

“yeah, sure.”

the rest of the night is spent watching this show that’s been on your watchlist for a while, and you don’t mind if mingyu conks out in the middle of it.

sure enough, you hear his soft snores after you finish your dessert, and you turn to see this big man that’s also your best friend craning his neck on the sofa as he tries to keep himself in the blanket that’s certainly not big enough for the two of you.

sometimes you wonder if he’d cuddle with you to save space and keep himself warm, and this also happens to be one of those times. You get up and reposition him as gently as you can, so that his back doesn’t hurt in the morning. His nose twitches when you rest a hand on his hair, wishing him a silent goodnight.

It's not the first time you wish you could kiss him, dangerous as that thought is.

you can’t stop thinking about the interaction you had a few days ago. sure, your neighbour isn’t someone whose behaviour you’d count on to matter, but was she right when she said she can’t see two people like you together? people as opposite to each other as you and mingyu?

sure, you’re not the usual kind of crowd he hangs out with, but is it so bad to imagine something between the two of you? was that just the sign to stop thinking about mingyu, get over him and resign yourself to a life without love?

as much as you complain about going on dates, there’s something that’s your fault too — you look for mingyu everywhere. none of the men you’ve gone on dates with are mingyu, and that’s the crux of the problem. none of them smile the way he does, none of them give you their jacket when you’re feeling cold, and it’s unfair for you to expect them to understand everything about you.

you can’t have mingyu, and you’re going to have to learn to accept that.

Which is why you’re at this party with your friend seungkwan. it’s not your usual scene — you’d much rather be curled up in bed with a book and some takeout, or cleaning your bookshelf while listening to music on the television — but you’re not complaining. seungkwan was right. you need to let go once in a while, just enjoy yourself before you inevitably spend weeks together keeping to yourself, immersed in your work.

“dance with me!” seungkwan yells out to you over the din of the crowd.

“i can’t dance! not like you!”

“that hardly matters! let’s have some fun, come on!”

seungkwan is nothing if not persistent. finishing off the last of the drink, you let him lead you out onto the dance floor. he rests his hands on your shoulders as he sways you to the music. it’s fast paced and something you’d be caught doing in the privacy of your own house, your own little concert, and for once you don’t care about the fact that people can see you. you’re lost in your own little world with seungkwan, and more importantly, you’re happy. the stress of whatever the fuck happened last week between you and mingyu, with him calling himself your boyfriend without knowing how down bad you are for him, is pushed to the back of your mind as the beat changes. seungkwan starts clapping to the rhythm, making you realize you’re dancing by yourself.

you’re not half bad at this. a little under confident, sure, but not bad. you could try making this a monthly thing and having fun with it.

eventually you end up too exhausted to dance to another song, and seungkwan guides you to a seat, your shoes in his hand as he asks you to catch your breath and wait for a while more till he finishes dancing with some other people.

you’ve ordered a basic drink for yourself when someone slides in next to you. you don’t pay them much attention, focusing on relaxing a bit and finishing your drink, but you have to turn around and look at them when you can actually feel their eyes piercing into your side and— boy, is he a sight for sore eyes.

he looks boyishly handsome, completely in place in this club as he watches you with his chin resting in his hand, eyes glinting in the light of the fixture above the two of you. he’s pretty, and just as handsome, and his eyes are the loveliest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

“saw you dancing out there,” he says, his words a bit of a drawl, and accented. “you were pretty good.”

“you don’t need to lie if you’re trying to flirt,” you jest, finishing your drink.

“i’m not in the habit of lying,” he says, smiling at you. “you looked like you were having fun.”

“i…was, actually,” you say. he’s still smiling, looking at you like he’s searching for something in your eyes. you feel warm. gosh.

“can i get you another drink?”

“no, thank you, actually. i need my head to remain intact if i want to get home in one piece.”

“suit yourself,” he nods, and asks the bartender for the same drink you had. the bar is in hell, but you’re impressed he backed off immediately. you watch as he makes quick work of his drink.

“so, you come here often?” he asks, wiping the back of his mouth.

“not really. my friend dragged me out tonight because he felt i needed a break from my life.”

“just a friend?” he asks, eyes following your line of vision to see seungkwan still dancing with some strangers, looking like he’s having fun.

“why, you interested?”

“depends on who you’re talking about.”

“him?”

“cute, but no.”

“me.”

“maybe.”

you trace the ring of condensation your drink’s left on the table. “but i’m not looking for anything, honestly. i’ve sworn off dating for a while.”

“that’s fine. we could just…talk.”

you look up at the man. you don’t know if this is his way of trying to get you to go home with him, but it’s the most genuine someone’s been. “you never told me your name, by the way.”

“me? vernon. nice to meet you.”

you give him your name in return, and like the way it rolls off his tongue.

“so…can i ask why you’ve sworn off dating?”

seungkwan’s still going to take a while, going by the previous times you’ve been here, and vernon definitely seems interested in talking to you.

“you ever…had a crush on your best friend?”

vernon winces — an actual wince, like he’s seen something terrible, and it makes you laugh. “yeah…once. it sucks.”

“exactly.”

“you’re trying to get over them?”

“trying being the keyword, yes.”

“then how are you trying to get over them if you’re not into dating?”

you sigh. vernon’s a perceptive one. “trying to think of other people even if i don’t necessarily go home with them. just anything to get my mind off him.”

“anything? how bored would you be if i started talking about why i think star wars is excessive but also misunderstood?”

you don’t find vernon boring, in fact. you find yourself drawn to him speaking, the way his eyes light up and his hands get a life of their own as he lists out every single point in aid of his stance, and encourages you to contribute to the conversation. it feels like he’s an old friend, and not someone you met hardly an hour ago. it’s fun.

“…so maybe we could go out to watch that movie? it’s coming out next week.”

“go out?”

“as friends, of course. i’m not looking to take someone home, either. if anything, i came here to keep my friends company, but…i think i lost them in the crowd.”

you look around, and seungkwan’s sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of girls, and it makes you grin. he doesn’t need you sticking with him anymore.

“you were saying?”

“does next week work—”

“it doesn’t,” says a new voice. a familiar voice. there’s two hands on your shoulders, a familiar weight. “we’re hanging out at my place next week.”

“mingyu!” you exclaim, pulling him out from behind you. “don’t scare me like that.”

“sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “you have no idea how much time i spent searching for you only to find you hidden here.”

“why were you looking for me? how did you know i was here?”

he looks at you like you asked him something stupid. “because it’s late, and because seungkwan’s most definitely not driving you home.” ah. seungkwan must have asked mingyu to pick you up, given that he was your ride here.

“well,” you say, directing him towards your conversational partner. “this is vernon. my new friend.”

“hi,” he says, curt, and you frown. mingyu’s generally nicer.

“hey,” vernon says coolly. then he turns back to you. “can you give me your number? i’ll text you about it later, when you’re free. think i’ll search for them now.”

you hand vernon your own phone, given he’s had less drinks than you have, and it hardly takes a minute for him to enter his details before he saves his number and claps your shoulder, wishing you and mingyu a good night.

you find mingyu watching vernon making his way through the crowd. “so, who was that?”

“new friend. vernon. like i said.”

“a new friend? seriously? he just asked for your number.”

“so? he wasn’t hitting on me or anything. he just asked me so we could go see this movie we’ve been wanting to watch.”

mingyu’s eyebrows rise. “a movie? together? doesn’t that sound like…a date?”

you frown. “two friends can go watch movies, mingyu. don’t we do that all the time?”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know me. he’s just some random guy you met today. at a club.”

either mingyu’s being obtuse, or you’re not thinking correctly. “are you saying i don’t know how to read people’s intentions?”

“you’re drunk,” he says bluntly, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “you don’t know what he wants.”

something about his tone makes you angry. he wasn’t even here the whole evening. “as if you do. you didn’t speak to him at all, mingyu. you don’t even know what we talked about.”

“didn’t you say you wanted to stop going out on dates?”

the coldness in his voice makes you freeze. you’ve never heard him sound so hostile, not with you. “what do you mean?”

“why did i have to find out from seungkwan that you were out here at this club just a week after you asked me to make you touch grass if you so much as thought of a date?”

“but it wasn’t a date!” you exclaim, feeling more and more annoyed. to your horror, you feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “are you saying i’m—”

“you’re drunk. you don’t know what you want. did you seriously expect to make friends at the club of all places?”

this isn’t your mingyu. he’d never judge you the way he’s doing right now. you take his jacket and throw it on the counter, turning around and marching out. you’ll call a cab to take you to your place. you don’t need him dropping you home.

“hey,” mingyu calls out, jogging towards you, jacket in his hand. “it’s cold. take this, please?”

“i don’t care about what you have to say,” you sniff, wrapping your hands around yourself. “don’t talk to me.”

“listen, you can be angry with me all you want, but just take my jacket. i don’t want you freezing out here when you don’t need to be.”

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before saying all that shit to me,” you spit. “why do you want to talk to me now? just insult me some more, why don’t you?”

mingyu huffs, but says nothing. he just looks at you.

“come with me.”

“where?”

“to my car.”

“why should i?”

“i won’t leave you here by yourself. i want to make sure you’re safe. let me drop you home and you can be mad at me all you want. please.”

“what, your night’s going to be a waste unless i come with you?”

“no,” he says quietly, and it makes you pause. mingyu is anything but quiet. “It’s never a waste. but it’ll just put my mind at ease if i know you’re safe, okay?”

you see the logic in his words, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “fine,” you say, taking his jacket from him and slipping it on.

“thank you,” he says, opening the passenger door for you.

the drive to your place is quiet. you can tell mingyu wants to say something, start a conversation, but you keep your eyes resolutely fixed ahead.

“come on,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out when you reach your building. you follow him upstairs to your apartment. he unlocks the door for you and makes way for you to step inside first.

“do you need water? food? anything i can get?” he asks, taking off his shoes.

you turn around to look at him. he’s big, as always, but for once it feels like he’s taking up all the space in your apartment.

“i’m not that drunk,” you say finally.

he stands up straight to look at you. “but—”

“yes, i had some drinks, but i know my limit. i had my last one just before i started talking to vernon. i hate that you thought i wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”

he swallows. “i didn’t mean to undermine—”

“but you did! and you don’t know how terrible it feels. i’m not a baby, gyu. i know what i want and what i’m doing. i’m hurt. and,” you say, taking in a deep breath, “if you really want to know something, know this — we’re in completely different leagues.”

mingyu frowns. “what do you mean?”

“i—” there’s so much you mean. you can’t possibly recount all the thoughts you’ve had about feeling inadequate, all the nights you’ve spent wondering how long it’ll be before he realizes you’re not as cool as you should be. “i’m not sober enough to talk about this.”

“you just said you weren’t that drunk.”

“this is my home,” you say, a bit harsher than needed. “you got me here safe, and that’s all you wanted to do. this is me being mad at you, so if you respect me, you’re going to let me sleep. okay? goodnight, mingyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you hate how small his voice sounds. “sleep well.”

and you do sleep well. well enough that you sleep through your alarm, and wake up almost when it’s ten. at least it’s a saturday, so you’re not freaking out as you brush your teeth. you have some work to do today. and hanging out with mingyu is on the agenda as well, but you’re not sure if you’re keen on going through with it, especially after what happened last night.

if you were delusional, which you’re most definitely not, you’d say that mingyu had been jealous that you and vernon had exchanged numbers in front of him. except there’s no reason for him to be jealous. like he reminded you, you’re not looking for any relationships. there’s no one he has to compete with, so to speak.

so why was he that upset last night? and what about the things he’d said to you?

you’ve had fights before, fights that ended up with both of you not wanting to speak to each other, but this was different. he’d never been angry like this.

you’re the one who’s upset, you realize, as you walk to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. you’re going to talk it out with mingyu once your head is clearer, and you’re going to see what he has to say for himself.

except mingyu’s already here. you can smell the delicious scent of tteokbokki wafting through the room. mingyu’s set out two plates, two glasses — the usual. you’re feeling woefully under dressed in front of him in your pyjamas, despite the fact that he’s seen you like this multiple times before.

“morning,” he says. his voice is hesitant. It’s never hesitant.

“hi. morning.”

“slept well?”

“yeah, better than…what exactly are you doing here?”

“cooking you breakfast,” he says, waving his spatula around.

“i can see that. i meant here. in my place. didn’t you go back home after dropping me off?”

“no. i felt too tired to drive back home, so i decided to crash out on your couch. and i’m making you breakfast now. isn’t that a win-win?”

you can see one win, but you’re not sure what the other is. you take a seat at the table and pour yourself a glass of water, wearily trying to assess the situation. mingyu had pretty much scolded you last night. like a parent who didn’t trust you to make the right choices despite having free will. and now he’s cooking you breakfast like last night just didn’t happen.

“can i ask you something?” mingyu says, pushing a plate of tteokbokki towards you along with a pair of chopsticks.

“don’t think i can stop you, can i?”

mingyu huffs. “hey. if you’re upset with me, just say no.”

“what is it?”

“what did you mean by yourself being out of my league?”

you set your chopsticks down. “you’re serious? you’re really asking me that?”

he frowns. “yes.”

“mingyu, you called yourself my boyfriend a week back. your…better half.”

“that was to make your neighbour leave. she was being weird.”

“sure. and then we went back to life like nothing had even happened.”

“because…it hadn’t? i thought we talked it out that night itself? what happened now?”

“i don’t think you understand how that made me feel. especially when you said—” you say, voice trembling. “you called yourself my boyfriend last week. like it’s something you throw around naturally. and last night you acted all…weird, as if i wasn’t allowed to have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t you. why are you so confusing?”

“would you hear me out if i said i had a reason?”

“you’d better have a damn good reason.”

mingyu sets down his glass and looks at you. “i’m sorry for everything i said yesterday. i truly am. i didn’t mean any of it. i was just…jealous.”

that catches your attention. “jealous? of?”

“that guy. vernon. you seemed like you were having a good time talking to him and i thought about how if you got together you’d probably leave our relationship behind because you liked him so much.”

“whoa. slow down. i told you i wasn’t looking—”

“you weren’t. i know that. but the way you looked at him made me feel something.”

“what?”

“i’m saying…” mingyu takes in a deep breath, and focuses on something past your shoulder. not meeting your eyes. “i’m saying i like you.”

you blink. “i’m sorry?”

“i like you, and i was jealous because you seemed to be having so much fun talking to him. if you have to know, there’s no guy who possibly deserves you. i’m not saying i do, either, but i’ll try my best to be the guy you deserve.”

it’s still too early in the day for this. “stop joking, mingyu. i don’t want to go through it again. just—”

“i’m not!” he exclaims, coming over to your side of the table. “thinking i could be with anyone i wanted is a bold thing to say. how do you think i feel every time i go out for company dinners but all i want to do is spend time with you? have you as my plus one every time?”

your heart’s fluttering very fast. you feel almost breathless. “i wouldn’t even look that good by your side.”

“says you. have you ever seen yourself?”

“i have, actually, and i look—”

“so gorgeous,” mingyu cuts you off, eyes twinkling as he says so. as though he’d been holding onto it for so long and finally found the right time to release it. “you look exactly like the person i want to spend every single day of my life with.”

you almost expect cameras to pop up out of nowhere and film your reaction to what he’s just said. “the…rest of your life? you do know that’s…a long time, right?”

“i do. and i’ve already spent four years with you. eight, if you’re counting the time before we became best friends.”

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. what he’s offering is so close to you, just an arm’s length away, but you can’t convince yourself to reach out for it. you hide your face in your hands. “gyu…”

“i’m serious,” he says, gently peeling your hands from your face. his hands are so warm as he holds yours, and his boba eyes are so close to yours. he’s adorable. “give me one chance?”

“what if we…mess this up? what if you realize i’m not that fun to hang out with every single day?”

“what if you realize everything you're thinking is wrong? what if you realize there’s no way i’m going to let things go wrong, especially when it comes to you?”

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what the future holds in store, and you have no answers to your questions just like you don’t have answers to his.

“i know you think…not so greatly of yourself sometimes,” mingyu says, squeezing your hands. “and i want to be here to tell you that everything you think in that regard is wrong. i like you because you’re you. why do you think you’re the only one who’s been my best friend for so long? you’re the only one i can be myself around completely. tell me you know that.”

“i…didn’t know that.”

“then i clearly didn’t do a very good job at being your best friend. maybe i can fix that now.”

now. now that mingyu likes you. now that you have the chance to see your relationship blossom into something more.

“you’re not even going to ask me if i like you?”

a slow blush spreads across mingyu’s face. “shit, sorry. um, do you…like me?”

“of course i like you, gyu,” you smile, feeling giddy at the way he gets redder.

“good. can i, um, be your boyfriend, then? would you like that?”

“you’re not taking me out on a date first?”

mingyu’s eyes shine and he leans in till his nose is inches away from yours. “hi,” he whispers, and you actually whimper when his lips brush yours the slightest bit. embarrassing. mingyu doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“g-good morning, gyu.”

“the best, actually. even better if you let me take you out on a date today.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

#mingyuuuu i love youuuu #seventeen #seventeen fluff #fluff #mingyu #friends to lovers #svt #waldau writes #req

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emoji-archive-bot · 4 months ago

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Hiya! It's us, we recently changed our username so here you go :3

-@ottertimeaac

thank you!

#e:/asks #e:/asks/signed anon #e:/asks/ottertimeaac #mod post #not an emoji

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romanscool · 6 months ago

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Hey I love ur stories so I was wondering if u could give me recommendations for the best AO3 MAXIEL stories you've read if u don't mind, thnx 💜💜

hi anon! thank you so much for this ask!! I always love recommending maxiel stories,,,

i have way too much, but I've tried to skim through them and pull out the ones I could read over and over again without ever being bored of it. so anyways, here you go, my fav 13 maxiel fics in no particular order:

I know your name (but not who you are) by @prongsofficial (rated G)

“Hi, Daniel,” the man at his door says, tentative with a sideways smile. There’s sweat on his hairline and two cage-like boxes in his hands. He hears a meowing come out of them when he shifts to set them down. “Max,” Daniel breathes out, floored and caught in the way Max rubs at his own arm awkwardly. Max just smiles. -- Based on the Stick Season (Forever) album by Noah Kahan

a hauntingly beautiful nine-chapter non-linear fic about what could've happened if Daniel had to retire after his hand injury in Zandvoort 2023. Gorgeous. Just the right amount of angst, fluff and crushing dialogues.

dead heat by @powerful-owl (rated E)

"Oh my god. Okay, you’re an alpha. Yeah, Max? You’re an alpha?” Max looks up, tongue lapping at the webbing between Daniel’s fingers. He waits for his thoughts to print into words: paper roll unfurling, sticky nozzles stamping please, need, yours. He just nods. “You’re an alpha.” Daniel laughs, reedy and weird. “Max, what the fuck. Why are you on your knees?”

I'm not usually into a/b/o fics but this one. this hit and still hits me everyday. I have read it almost three times now (keep in mind this is a 35-chapters/200k words fic) and I can't believe how well written it is. the smut is beautiful, angsty and punch-to-the-gut. worth every seconds spent reading it. I also really liked the fact that this is not your traditional a/b/o dynamics, with the little weak omega getting roughly fucked by perma-rut alpha. nope. it's so much more.

breaking every rule for you by @magicalrocketships (rated E)

Daniel's always been competitive. He's never backed down from a challenge, even if it's one he doesn't understand the rules of and doesn't remember signing up for. But he knows this: if Max sends him a dick pic, then Daniel sends one back. Or, it’s Daniel's first year at Renault, and Max hasn't spoken to him in months.

soul-cushing, kink-finding, whatever the fuck even fic. no words to describe this one I think. it's messed my brain up. anyway. 200k words of max and Daniel being idiots, max with a girlfriend he doesn't love and Daniel not accepting he's in love with max. all that while sending dick pics everyday. hot. beautiful. made me cry and bite into my own arm because of how I wish I could just grip both their heads and smash them like barbies so they can kiss.

that's where I am by @flawlessassholes (rated E)

“Her name is Emily,” Daniel says softly. Max’s eyes snap down to the baby, still sleeping on Daniel’s chest. It’s—she’s snoring a little. In that snuffly way that babies snore. “Short for Emilian.” His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face, so serious, and Max knows it’s a joke, of course, but he still opens his mouth to say— Then Daniel’s face breaks into that wide grin, the real one, the one Max hasn’t seen since. Well. In a while. It feels at once so familiar, and also like seeing something rise from the dead.

There’s a month between Melbourne and Baku. A month to convince Daniel to return to racing. A month to learn and relearn how to love. A month for everything to feel right amidst a season that has felt nothing but wrong. A month to create a family, and a month to maybe lose it all.

daniel has a baby and max learns how to deal with that. all that while Emily (dan's kid) is the cutest baby ever. made my heart ache in the best way, had me having a baby-fever for 8 chapters. the smut is gorgeous, the story had me weeping and I could not believe how someone could even come up with such a well-rounded idea. gorgeous.

haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? by vivienne_xoxo (rated E)

Daniel is on the verge of quite possibly nothing in his last year of high school. Max is on the verge of everything in his sophomore year. The one thing that connects them is soccer, squash, and track and field. Being at different schools, they only see each other once per season for games. However, they find themselves meeting in the spaces between, unknowing of what it all really meant. As Daniel nears graduation with a GPA of a whopping 2.0, a sexuality crisis, and a blonde twisted in his bedsheets and his brain, the one thing he really knows is that he's so, so fucked. OR: A sports rivals with benefits, strangers to lovers Maxiel fic that no one really wanted. Literally just the school I go to right now but with changed names.

everything a teen!maxiel fic could ever want to be. teens in love, max and Daniel going through everything that comes with that. sexuality crises all over the place, hormones, too. love it. this is the fic that made me want to start my own teen!maxiel. it's funny, angsty, has way too many crack-worthy dialogue. I love it.

a sure thing by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

Afterwards, once they’ve headed back inside on unsteady legs and showered in Max’s insane ensuite, Daniel pulls on his clothes and watches Max do the same. He’s always quieter after sex, once the adrenaline and dopamine have receded some. Daniel gets it, the whole hooker thing is more awkward for most people once the fucking is actually over. “How much do you charge for a full night?” Max asks, after he transfers the fee for today, the little notification pinging on Daniel’s phone. M. E. Verstappen has sent you a payment. Daniel doesn't bother to check the amount, Max will have rounded it up to the nearest thousand anyway, just like he always does. OR: daniel is an escort, max is a five time world champion, and also one of his regular clients. (aka, the hooker!dan au)

gorgeous. no words. 30k of hooker!Daniel that had me going a little crazy. so many good smut scenes, so many insane dialogues, so many insane angsty moments that aren't angst but feel like it... love love love it. I've read it a couple times already and it always has me on the floor. beautiful and breathtakingly so.

growing sideways by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

“We’re in Monaco,” Max says, “and you haven’t lived in either of those places for a very long time, Daniel. Since 2013.” It must be fucking amnesia, Daniel reasons, because when he went to bed last night it was July 2012. And here a grown up Max Verstappen is, telling him 2013 was a very long time ago. OR: daniel wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognise, next to a man he doesn’t know.

what if Daniel woke up as his 2012 self with braces and awkward limbs but he's in his 2024 self bed, next to his 2024 self boyfriend (max) and he can't understand how any of this is happening? that's it. that's the plot. loved the little references, the race watching, the max trying to make Daniel learn everything they've had since 2012. the virgin smut. hot. but. everything about this fic is so, so sweet. it's gentle. like a hug after a long day, it takes you in and you never want to let go, especially because it has Daniel's fucked up teeth/braces in it. (joking but you know how I am with teeth, right?)

(just let me) adore you by @sillystappen (rated G)

One night, Max confronts the monster under his daughter's bed. Turns out, that monster is a very kind mothman called Daniel.

adorable. mothman!daniel (beautiful, beautiful, woah) takes car of max's daughter because other monsters might want to hurt her. so, so sweet. max is gentle but obsessed, and who can blame him even, Daniel is gentle, gentle, gentle, and caring, and so. argh. sorry. I'm obsessed with the fluff, the daughter, the developing bond between max and moth!Daniel. short and so cute.

auditory stimulator by togenkyo (rated E)

There are no rules for falling in love. It can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Max may not be well experienced in love, but he's pretty sure that "Falling in love with a guy you met when you accidentally picked up the phone at a sex hotline." should be a rule.

so funny. had me giggling in a public space over silly roommates trying to get max laid/in a couple. so fun and quirky, really had pulled in from seeing 'Phone Sex Operators' in the tags. I'm glad I read this. great dialogue, story and characters.

hey, remember that time by @powerful-owl (rated E)

There’s a snowstorm outside and a snowstorm in Max’s head. “Yes, okay. What.” “I think I’m gay? Pretty sure. Or like. Hella bi. Cause I think I’d still – if you were a – sorry. My body likes you, Max.” — (Max owns an inn and Daniel has amnesia.)

so funny... love, love, love. I always love those kind of stories, the AU with amnesia and all, but this one is genuinely the best I've ever read. I love all of @powerful-owl 's fics, but this one. it has me in a chokehold. read it again during the holidays for the snowy/angsty/smutty vibes and the scenes always have me giggling or crying. sometimes both at the same time. can't believe she has the power to write such good scenes like the bathroom one. description is just gorgeous, smut is always really good and goofy and. yeah. love it. can't say I've ever been let down by one of her works.

new wave (new emotions) by nothoughtsjustvibes (Kitkatieb) (rated G)

In which Max realizes he’s in love with Daniel and flies to Colorado to make it Lewis’s problem. Lewis just wants him to leave – preferably on a plane to Australia.

so so fun. lewis' POV, which is always really fun to read, especially since it's maxiel. just. lewis objective on the whole 'yes max, Daniel is in love with you, too' situation without actually saying it out loud. cause max has to figure it out for himself. really, really cool and original. loved reading.

two's company, three's a crowd by Whippasnappa (rated E)

“I need to be good at these things so it does not matter when. When they see.” Max says. He's- Daniel's chest feels like its caved in. Max looks so fucking ashamed, and his eyes are wet, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to blink away tears. “See what? Max?” He can’t- there’s nothing about Max that Daniel could imagine would be so off-putting that someone wouldn’t want him. Clearly there’s more to it, then, the reason why Max hasn’t hooked up before. “It is small.” Max says.

whippasnappa is a genius on this one. small dick!max is alway shy fav max but this one,,, gorgeous. breathtaking. couldn't stop staring at y screen even if I died. could've died actually. had me having three heart attacks. have never come back from this one. arghhhh

we predict blue skies and tight pants by dontburnme

The sight just made him dizzy. The hottest man he’s ever fucking seen flipping off a cliff into the murky Oslo waters twenty seven meters high up. Or, Daniel’s a Red Bull high diver and Max experiences an out of body experience watching him.

in which, Daniel is a diver and max watches him dive. and dies, a little. it's crazy, crazy good. had me a little crazy, pulling my hair out by the end of it. I, too, had an out of body experience. crazy, crazy, crazy, and such a fun concept. alway love me some short and sweet AU-fics.

bonus!!: high and dry by @jermeows

real cowboys ride cock, y'know right?

technically not a fic but. it's such wonderful fanart I HAD to include it. maxiel cowboys; what more is there to say...

#anyways I think this is most of it #might add to it later on #but these are so #so beautiful #so crazy #so good #been wanting to reread most of these for a while now #I might do just that #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #maxiel fic #max/daniel #fic rec #teeth

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capricorn-writes1 · 4 months ago

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Hi! you can ignore this question if you are really busy. Can I get headcannons of Akaashi, Bokuto, Kenma, Yaku and then Levvie by surprising them with pets? The second part for Kuroo, Suna, Oikawa, Semi and then Iwaizumi.

Suprising Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou, Kenma Kozume, Yaku Morisuke, and Lev Haiba with Pet

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Hello, there Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Too fluffy

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Akaashi Keiji: The Setter of Fukurodani

When his S/O surprises him with a tiny kitten, Akaashi is initially taken aback. He blinks a few times, processing the unexpected gift. Despite his surprise, his composed nature takes over, and he gently accepts the kitten, holding it with soft hands and a warm, almost shy smile.

Though he doesn’t show overly expressive emotions, Akaashi feels a deep warmth in his chest. He softly thanks his S/O, his tone filled with genuine appreciation. Internally, he feels honored to be entrusted with caring for something so small and vulnerable.

Akaashi worries slightly about whether he’ll be a good caretaker. Thoughts about feeding, grooming, and ensuring the kitten's safety swirl through his mind. But he decides that with careful attention and effort, he will give the kitten the best home possible.

Grooming becomes a peaceful ritual. Akaashi uses soft brushes, ensuring the kitten feels comforted during every stroke. He whispers soothing words, creating a calm and trusting atmosphere that helps the kitten relax.

Responsible and diligent, Akaashi schedules regular vet appointments and keeps track of vaccinations. He asks thoughtful questions, wanting to ensure that he's providing the best environment for his kitten.

One of Akaashi’s favorite moments is reading with the kitten curled up beside him. He’ll pause occasionally to stroke its soft fur, the quiet purring adding a peaceful ambiance to his reading sessions.

Akaashi loves updating his S/O with adorable pictures and small stories about the kitten’s antics. Whether it's the kitten’s first climb onto the couch or its fascination with a crumpled paper ball.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The city buzzed with excitement on Valentine's Day, filled with the scent of chocolates and roses. (Y/N) had been eagerly anticipating this day, her heart thrumming with delight as she stepped into the cozy pet store she had visited just the day before. The soft mews of tiny kittens filled the space, their tiny paws padding across the enclosure, but their/her/his eyes were drawn to one in particular—a small Persian kitten with black and white fur, curled up like a delicate ball of fluff. She had no doubt that Akaashi would love her.

He spent long hours working from home, immersed in editing shonen comics and novels for his hybrid publishing office, often leaving him alone for most of the day. The idea of him having a small companion to keep him company felt perfect.

"Excuse me ma'am. I would like to get the Persian Kitten that I booked yesterday and i want to give the kitten to my boyfriend," (Y/N) said.

"Alright, please just sign this paper and we will briefly give the kitten to you," The cashier hands the paper.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Later in the evening, (Y/N) arrived at his apartment, excitement bubbling in their/her/his chest as (Y/N) cradled e tiny kitten in a soft pink blanket. Akaashi, dressed in his usual comfortable sweater, opened the door with a curious tilt of his head.

"Hey sweetheart, what are you holding?" He asks.

"I have a surprise for you this valentine and I hope you take care of our new daughter," (Y/N) said

"Daughter?" Akaashi raises his eyebrows in confusion

There was a brief moment of confusion, then realization, and finally, gratitude that softened his features as (Y/N) gently places the soft pink blanket in his arms.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," she said, grinning as she had carefully placed the kitten in his hands.

“She’s… really small,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

The moment the kitten blinked up at him with round, innocent eyes, Akaashi felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in his chest. The softest of smiles tugged at his lips as he gently stroked the kitten’s fur as the kitten let out a tiny mew, and his expression softened even more.

“You got her for me?” (Y/N) nodded, pleased to see the quiet joy in his face.

“I thought you might like a little company while you work,” she said, watching as he carefully held the kitten against his chest.

Akaashi took a moment to think before speaking again, his fingers gently scratching beneath the kitten’s chin.

“Hime...I will call her Hime-chan," he finally said. It was fitting, with her delicate features and fluffy fur, the kitten did look like a tiny princess.

"It suits her,” she agreed, watching as Akaashi let the kitten climb onto his shoulder, her tiny paws pressing into the fabric of his sweater.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Bokuto Koutarou: The captain of Fukurodani

Hoooo boy.......The moment Bokuto sees the puppy, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a joyful, "No way!! Is this for me?!" before scooping the puppy up in his strong arms, spinning around with excitement.

Bokuto gets so emotional that his eyes glisten with unshed tears. The idea that his S/O thought of him and gave him such an adorable companion makes his chest feel warm and full. "This is the best gift ever," he murmurs, cradling the puppy close like a precious treasure.

The moment the puppy snuggles into Bokuto's arms, it's game over. He’s already head over heels, softly whispering, "You're my little buddy now," while gently stroking its fur. Bokuto instantly pictures their future together—long walks, cuddles, and endless play.

Playtime is intense with Bokuto, who’s just as energetic as the puppy. He gets on all fours, barking back, and pretending to be "attacked," laughing as the puppy pounces on him.

The puppy becomes his unofficial workout partner, running alongside him during morning jogs. When the puppy gets tired, Bokuto doesn’t hesitate to carry him in his arms, laughing, "Aww are you okay? Let's go home then!"

The puppy also becomes Bokuto's personal alarm clock, licking his face until he wakes up. Groaning but smiling, Bokuto stretches and says, "Okay, okay, I'm up! Ready for another day of adventure?" Then it’s off for their morning walk.

Bokuto fills his phone with hundreds of his puppy photos—the little doggy sleeping, eating, or even just blinking. He creates an Instagram account dedicated to his pup, captioning every post with, "World’s Cutest Pup! #ProudDad."

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Bokuto’s birthday had always been a loud and lively affair—teammates shouting over each other, laughter echoing through the air, and cake smeared across his face before he could even take a bite. But this year, (Y/N) had something different planned. Something quieter, yet infinitely more meaningful. Yesterday, you had visited the adoption center, your heart racing with anticipation as you scanned the small enclosures.

Rows of eager, hopeful eyes stared back at them, tiny tails wagging, soft whimpers filling the room. And then, in one corner, (Y/N) saw him, a tiny black Labrador Retriever, ears too big for his head, bouncing excitedly with every step. The old man who ran the shelter chuckled as he approached.

"That one's got energy to match the sun. You sure you're ready for him?" The old man asks

"Of course, me and my boyfriend going to take care of him," (Y/N) said.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Now, standing in front of Bokuto’s door, the puppy tucked safely in the large box, excitement bubbled in their/her/his chest. They had barely knocked when the door flung open, revealing a still-bedheaded Bokuto, eyes groggy but instantly widening at the sight before him. For a second, there was silence, ust the puppy blinking up at him, tiny tail wagging, before letting out a high-pitched bark. Bokuto let out a gasp, hands flying to his face as his entire body jolted awake.

"N-NO WAY! I-IS THIS FOR ME?" he yelled, practically vibrating with excitement.

Without hesitation, he scooped the puppy up, holding it close like the most precious thing in the world.

"YOU GOT ME A PUPPY?!" His voice cracked with joy, and S/O couldn’t help but laugh.

"Yeah babe. Happy birthday, I know that you always wanted a puppy but you weren't allowed with your mom before but since now we live together. We can finally adopt a fur baby son," (Y/N) said.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much babe!" Bokuto peppers kisses all over the puppy and your face.

Bokuto immediately pulled the puppy away just enough to meet its round, curious eyes. The pup yipped again, wiggling happily in his grasp.

"You talk a lot, huh? I love that!" he grinned, pressing their noses together.

"Gotta name you something easy, something that fits..." His brows furrowed in thought before he suddenly gasped.

"Roro! Because you bark a lot! And it’s easy to remember!" He chuckles.

"Roro, right?! It’s perfect, right?!" He looked at S/O with the brightest expression, as if seeking approval

Roro responded before (Y/N) could, yapping excitedly as if agreeing with his new dad. Bokuto beamed, pulling the puppy against his chest.

"See? He likes it! We’re already best buddies!" He was absolutely gone, completely smitten with his new companion.

(Y/N) eyes stare at the beaming man, her/his/their heart full, knowing you had given him something special, something that went beyond words or material gifts.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Kenma Kozume: The Setter of Nekoma

When his S/O presents the kitten, Kenma’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. He doesn’t speak at first, just blinks slowly, taking in the small bundle of fur from your hand. "Is… this for me?" he asks quietly, his voice low but tinged with wonder.

At first, he feels unsure, overwhelmed by the responsibility. But when the kitten curls against his chest and lets out a tiny purr, something in his heart softens. He cradles it gently, whispering, "You're really small…" as if afraid his voice might scare it.

Kenma isn’t one for dramatic displays, but his gratitude is deep and genuine. He leans his forehead gently against his S/O’s shoulder, murmuring, "Thank you." It’s soft, but it holds the weight of his feelings.

He doesn’t go overboard with toys, but he makes sure to have the essentials: a soft mouse toy, a ball of yarn, and a little cat tree. Quietly, he’ll tug the toy along the floor, watching the kitten chase with slow, slanted eyes.

The kitten quickly becomes his silent gaming partner, often snoozing in his lap as he plays. Kenma strokes the kitten absentmindedly while focusing on the screen. It’s comforting—this quiet companionship, where words aren’t needed.

Naps become a shared activity. Kenma curls on the couch with the kitten pressed against his side, their soft breathing syncing. Sometimes, when the world feels too heavy, Kenma finds himself whispering thoughts to the kitten. "You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with people," he mutters

The three of you often share quiet nights, curled on the couch under a soft blanket. The kitten purrs contentedly, Kenma rests his head on your shoulder and the three of you cuddled together.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the quiet apartment. Kenma sat curled up on the couch, his phone resting loosely in his hands, the hum of a paused game lingering in the air. Today was his birthday, though he had never been one for grand celebrations. He preferred quiet moments, soft memories, and gentle surprises. An you had planned exactly that.

Just yesterday, (Y/N) had visited the adoption center to book an adoption with one of the kittens in there and today finally she/he/they can get a kitten for Kenma. Tiny faces, soft meows, curious eyes peeking from warm blankets. It was almost impossible to choose, each kitten vying for a place in your heart. But then, there she was—a small, tri-colored munchkin kitten with oversized eyes and a timid gaze. Her tiny legs made her waddle slightly, her fur a mix of soft white, black, and orange.

The old woman at the center had smiled warmly as she placed the kitten inside the carrier that you held.

She’s shy but sweet," she said, and that was all it took. That little spark of shyness reminded them of Kenma. Quiet, gentle, yet full of depth.

Now, the moment had arrived after she rides her small car into their apartment. Kenma shuffled into the room, his hair slightly tousled from gaming for a long time.

"What’s that?” he asked, his voice low, curiosity softening his usual monotone.

(Y/N) lips curved into a smile, heart thrumming with anticipation. She/he/they approached quietly, unzipping the carrier to reveal the tiny kitten nestled inside, blinking up at Kenma with innocent eyes.

For a moment, Kenma just stared. The world around him seemed to still. Then, he crouched down, his hand reaching out slowly, as though afraid the kitten might vanish if he moved too quickly. His fingers brushed through her soft fur, and the kitten let out a hesitant, high-pitched meow. Kenma's eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“She’s… really small. What's her name?" he murmured, voice almost a whisper.

"I haven't named our adopted daughter yet," (Y/N) jokes as Kenma scoffs in amusement.

Kenma’s gaze lingered on the kitten, her small body curled into herself, her soft meows filling the quiet.

"Chobit...her name is Chobit because she's tiny. Like a little doll… but softer," He said.

Kenma worried about accidentally hurting the little kitten as Chobit wiggled a little bit in his hand and trying to climb on him, he would wince a little bit from the pain since her paws surprisingly sharp for a small cat but he tries not to move so much, afraid if she gonna fall. But the kitten was determined, curling into the crook of his arm as he played, her tiny paws kneading against his hoodie as she purred softly. It was distracting, but in a way that made his heart feel lighter.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Yaku Morisuke: The Libero of Nekoma

When his S/O walks in, cradling a small Ragdoll kitten with soft fur and gentle blue eyes, Yaku’s first reaction is curiosity—until he notices the kitten’s missing leg. Concern flashes in his eyes, but he masks it with a soft, "What happened?"

Kneeling down, he reaches out his hand slowly, letting the kitten sniff his fingers. The moment the kitten leans into his touch, his heart softens completely. "You’re a tough little one, huh?" he murmurs.

Yaku dives deep into researching how to care for a kitten with a missing limb. He wants to be prepared, making notes and looking up ways to help the kitten.

The next day, he moves furniture to make the space safer, removing sharp edges and making sure the kitten won’t accidentally trip. He sets up small ramps near the couch so she can climb up easily.

Yaku sets up cozy spots throughout the apartment, laying down soft blankets so the kitten always has a place to rest comfortably, no matter where she decides to nap.

Instead of wild play, Yaku engages in slow, gentle games. He uses soft feather toys and strings, letting the kitten build her confidence and strength at her own pace.

When Yuki manages to climb onto the bed on her own for the first time, Yaku beams with pride. "Good job, Yuki," he praises, giving her extra cuddles and a small treat.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The soft glow of the adoption center’s window illuminated the dusky street, casting a warm, golden hue over the small figure curled in the corner of a glass enclosure. (Y/N) paused mid-step as she/he/they headed back to the apartment, drawn by the sight of the kitten, its fur a snowy blend of white and silver, eyes like twin pools of quiet sadness. It was a fragile little thing, huddled close to the glass as if searching for comfort.

Yet, it wasn’t the kitten’s beauty that pulled at (Y/N)’s heart, but the way it seemed to shrink from the world, its tiny body missing a limb, as if the loss had stolen more than just its leg but its trust in kindness. Without a second thought, (Y/N)’s decision was made. That kitten deserved a home, one filled with warmth and love, and they would be the one to give it. Later that evening, (Y/N) returned home, their heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

The kitten nestled quietly in the carrier, its soft eyes blinking sleepily. As they stepped inside, Yaku glanced up from the couch, brows lifting in surprise at the sight of the carrier in (Y/N)’s hands.

“What’s this?” he asked, setting his book aside as curiosity sparkled in his eyes.

He rose, approaching with cautious excitement, peering into the carrier. The moment his gaze met the kitten's soft fur and wide eyes, his lips curled into a soft, warm smile.

"A kitten?" he chuckled lightly, already charmed.

But when (Y/N) gently lifted the kitten from its carrier and placed it onto the soft blanket laid out on the floor, Yaku’s smile faltered. His eyes caught the slight, missing limb, the way the kitten hesitated before stepping forward, wobbling unsteadily. The joy in his face faded into a quiet shadow of sympathy. He crouched down, his hands resting on his knees, and watched the kitten curiously, his heart tightening.

"She… she’s missing a leg," he said softly, his voice edged with sadness.

"What happened to her?" Yaku asks (Y/N).

"An accident, a car ran over one of her back legs.... the person quickly gave the kitten to the vet to be taken care of but sadly the guy said he's not allowed to have pets to he gives the kitten to the adoption center later," (Y/N) explains.

Yaku’s expression shifted. His gaze softened, his heart tugged by a deep sense of gratitude.

"You’ve got a big heart," he said gently, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the kitten’s soft fur.

The little one shivered beneath his touch, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she blinked up at him, as though sensing something safe within his presence.

"Thank you… for bringing her home, he smiles softly to you.

Silence settled between them, comfortable and warm, as they watched the kitten explore her new surroundings with hesitant steps. Yaku's fingers lingered at her side, tracing the soft curve of her back, his thoughts turning over.

After a long pause, he whispered, "Yuki....she's beautiful just like a snow with her white fur."

From that moment, Yaku made a silent promise. That Yuki would never feel alone or unwanted again. That her missing limb wouldn’t define her, but her courage would. As Yuki curled closer to his hand, purring softly, Yaku’s chest warmed with an affection deeper than he’d expected. It wasn’t just a kitten that had entered his home, it was a small, brave soul who had already found a place in his heart.

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Lev Haiba: The Middle Blocker of Nekoma

When you walk in with a puppy carrier, Lev’s eyes go wide, and he immediately gasps, "Oh my gosh! Did you just…? Is that a puppy?!" practically bouncing in excitement. The moment the Golden Retriever puppy peeks out with its big, floppy ears and wagging tail, Lev nearly melts on the spot. His heart explodes in excitement, his grin so wide it hurts.

When the puppy turns its head and Lev notices the missing eye, his excitement falters slightly. His heart aches for the little one. "What… what happened to his eye?" he asks gently. After hearing the story, Lev’s protective instincts kick in. He crouches down, gazing into the puppy’s one bright eye. "Don’t worry, buddy. You’ve got me now. I’ll keep you safe."

Lev tries to pick up the puppy but almost stumbles over his own feet. Luckily, his S/O is there to steady him. "Okay, okay, I got this!" he says, laughing nervously. Lev is so tall and clumsy that he constantly bumps into furniture while carrying the puppy. "I swear these tables move on their own," he mutters every time.

Lev enthusiastically prepares the puppy meals, but he often spills kibble everywhere in his excitement. The golden retriver, however, is thrilled with the mess and gobbles it all up happily.

Sometimes, Lev flops onto the couch to cuddle the puppy, but he misjudges his strength and accidentally bounces the puppy a little too hard into his chest. The puppy just licks his chin, forgiving him instantly.

Every time Sunny does something adorable, Lev dramatically gasps, clutches his heart, and exclaims, "He's TOO CUTE. I can’t handle it!" while you just either laughs or sweat-drop, used to his dramatics.

When the puppy masters a new trick or finally navigates around an obstacle, Lev claps and cheers like it’s the greatest achievement ever. Sunny wags his tail, basking in the praise.

Every little sneeze or stumble sends Lev into a mini panic. "Is he okay? Should we go to the vet?!" You had to often needs to calm him down, assuring him that the puppy is just fine. Though clumsy and chaotic, Lev's love for the puppy is pure. It’s in the way he scoops him up when he’s tired, the way he softly whispers "I love you".

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The pet store window was fogged with the warmth of the day, but (Y/N)'s eyes caught a flash of movement through the glass. A small, golden blur pressed eagerly against the enclosure, tiny paws clawing playfully at the surface, his mouth panting in joyful pant, tongue lolling as if the entire world was his to greet.

(Y/N) stepped closer, their heart gave a small, painful squeeze. The puppy was missing one eye. A soft shadow lingered where it should have been, but there was no sadness in him, only endless, glowing happiness. Despite everything, he radiated joy. And in that moment, (Y/N) knew they couldn’t leave him behind.

(Y/N) approached the old man tending the store, their voice steady.

"I want to adopt him," You told the old man, gesturing to the little puppy still pawing excitedly at the glass.

The man hesitated, casting a glance at the energetic creature, his face lined with a quiet kind of understanding. "Most overlook him because of his eyes. You're very nice person for willing to adopt tha bundle of joy," he said gently, between apologetic but also relieved.

Bringing the puppy home felt like carrying a small piece of sunlight. The moment the door clicked open, Lev was already bounding into the room, curiosity lighting up his expression.

"You got a puppy?!" His voice rang with excitement, his tall frame leaning down as he reached for the carrier.

He unlatched the door, and the golden puppy stumbled out, tail wagging so hard it wobbled his entire body.

Lev laughed, a big, bright sound, as he crouched down to greet the new addition.

"Hey, little guy!" he cooed, ruffling the soft fur.

But then he paused. His gaze caught on the puppy’s face. On the missing eye. The laughter faded into a brief, thoughtful silence.

Lev’s hand hovered mid-air, hesitant for a moment. His eyes softened, lips parting as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say. There was a flicker of sadness in his gaze, a quiet ache that said he wished the world had been kinder to this tiny, golden creature. But as he looked closer, that sadness began to melt. The puppy’s single eye sparkled with joy. He was still wagging, still excited, still pressing against Lev’s hand with warmth and trust. There wasn’t fear. There wasn’t shame. Only happiness.

Lev let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and slowly gathered the puppy into his arms. The pup licked his chin, soft and warm, and Lev’s laugh returned, gentler this time.

"He’s… happy," Lev murmured, almost in disbelief.

"He’s really happy," his eyes brightened as he glace at you.

"Yes...yes he is," (Y/N) nod with a smile on her/his/their face.

"I think I’ll call him Taiyo, because he’s like the sun. Bright, even with one eye," he said softly, smiling.

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❀

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