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Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

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#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #logan x reader #logan xmen #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett #jimmy howlett #xmen smut #cryptfile // x-men #minors dni #minors do not interact #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett x vampire!reader #deadpool 3 #xmen days of future past #deadpool and wolverine

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creampie-capital · 3 days

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║My Ex, The Oni║║━ Pt. 1 ━║

ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║21,113

The Devil May Lick Me Masterlist ━━━➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

↳.·:*¨༺𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧༻¨*:·.

Photo Reference Cred ━━━➤ 82PIGEON on X (Twitter) Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately. Now onto the story :)

Steam wafts off your skin, a transparent whisp that floats from the intense heat emanating from your body. Soaked hair sticks to your limbs before you lean forward and wrap a towel around them to flip over.

The ringing continues from your bedroom, blaring like scratches on the walls that spur you quickly exit from the bathroom. 'Don Juan,' his nickname since forever, flickers on the screen with the image of his stupid face.

Fixing your robe, you answer and place it on the speaker. "Hello!!! I've been callin' for the past ten minutes." Rafe drags his voice out, stretching his vowels in the way he loves to when he's irritated.

"I was in the shower, babe. You already know eight o'clock is shower time." You jeer and respond in the same manner.

"Right, right." His response is calmer now as he releases a deep sigh. "Sorry, It's just busy at work, but I needed to know if you were busy tomorrow. My parents are visiting, and they want to see you. I know last time they were kind of rude, but that is just how they play around. My entire family is blunt like that, so I guess it's just in blood, haha."

In an instant, you're biting your lip while your dominant hand curls into a fist. That a**hole, how many times do you have to tell him that you're not going to meet them again after last time? They blatantly insulted you and passed it off as jokes and gags in front of your face and his presence.

You were surprised you were able to grin and bear it, taking their backhanded compliments and disrespect with awkward laughs and bows of your head. Not again; you're not going to take it again with Rafe sitting right by your side with silence on his tongue.

"Rafe, come on. I've already told you I'm not going to see them again unless I get a genuine apology."

"How can they give you a genuine apology if you won't see them again."

He silences you in that moment as you stop mid-movement from grabbing your panties. "Touché, Don Juan." Rafe had a point. However, your body is engraved with pettiness. The hurt and humiliation they gave you had riddled your very bones with hatred.

Forgiving them feels like losing the battle and accepting their disrespect. It's been one of your negatives since a young age, bearing rage and grudges even if they affected your closest relationships. Even your therapist struggles to help you settle those internal grievances.

"I've talked with them, you know. It's hard for them to understand that their bluntness is not something everyone appreciates." You're both silent after his words; the only noise coming from the club is the muted music from the club he bartends at.

Standing in the middle of your room, with only your panties and damp robe on, you find yourself fighting your resolve as water dries off your skin from the a/c. Now that the heat cools into a mellowness, even your anger somewhat subsides.

Rafe then cuts the silence as he speaks. "It's only for coffee at Selena's. With the holiday coming up, they wanted to see you and me before they leave. And that means a lot, you know, the fact that they want to see you again."

Ugh, you're starting to feel bad for constantly rejecting their invites. Only slightly bad, however, because you cannot forget those snide remarks that yeiled your blood to boil. Though...maybe they weren't that bad, but you took them the wrong way because as soon as someone offends you, you close off and refuse to listen anymore.

However, that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid.

"Fine. I'll come but only for an hour. But if they act the same way they did last time, then I'm out. I'm not just going to sit there and take everything while you act like a coward. Got it?"

"Got it." He murmurs while you hear the sound of his clothes shifting. "And again, I'm sorry about how I acted last time. It was cowardly, and I didn't consider your feelings."

With a nod of your head, you part your lips to respond; however, a ring from the foyer of your apartment solidifies you in your spot. Immediately, you're on the defense, body tense and eyes narrowed.

"Hold up, someone's at my door." You whisper before grabbing your phone, muting it, and stalking close to your door. The emergency services are already dialed, only awaiting the call button in case something goes wrong.

Pressing a button on your apartment intercom, the blank screen flashes to show the video imaging outside your door, and you cannot believe who stands in front of your entrance with a smug a** grin.

"Oh, my f*cking god." You seethe with the blood inside of your heating up before unmuting your call. "It's nobody important. I call you back; love you, babe."

"'kay. Be safe, and I love you too. I finish at two, so if you're still up, I call you later."

Ending the call, you undo the towel in your hair to throw it aside and unlock your door. With a harsh tug, you open it with a deep glare. "What the hell are you doing here, and how the hell do you know where I live?"

Kohaku stands there with that stupid a** grin and glint in his heterochromia eyes. "Come on, can't a guy just say hi?"

He looks the same as he did in high school, only more muscular as his clothes stretched across his limbs. His hair is still that ink-black slop with the strip of white strands, only longer and slightly styled.

The little horns on his forehead remain as cute as ever, as much as you hate to admit it. Piercings riddle his pointed ears, and you wonder how he got them done when he's always been a little b*tch about the sensitivity of his earlobe.

"Not even on my grave would I let you even say hi. What the f*ck do want?" You sneer, though it does nothing to wipe off his grin.

With a snap of his fingers, he points them at you like finger guns. "First off, you look cute in that robe, but it's a little too short. Not that I mind~." Your face heats up with the boiling of your blood. "Second of all," He suddenly twists around and picks up a...a little girl!? "-I need you to watch this sprat for a couple of months."

He hands her to you, holding her up from under her armpits like he's attempting to hand over a stray pet. The kid doesn't even seem phased, staring with a bored(?) expression as though nothing is going on in her head.

She's small, maybe five or six, wearing an oversized pink sweater and knee-high black socks with beat-up sneakers. Her eyes, her eyes hold two different colors, one icy blue and the other lime green. She had her own pair of horns that matched her tan skin with the tips slightly peachy red. Even her hair was the same ink black with the one area in the front white from his genetic disorder. It was long, down to her ankles, and unruly. Tangles are everywhere, and the frizz overtakes her head like lions made.

"Excuse me...? Ex-f*cking-scuse me!?" The roar of your voice was louder than you meant, and you knew in an instant that your neighbors were going to complain. "F*ck, f*ck." You whisper to yourself while opening the door wider and pointing inside. "Get in, quick."

That grin grew as he waltzed in and immediately began inspecting your place.

Shutting the door and locking it, you turn back with your arms crossed and a wicked glare. "You got some explaining to do because what in your right mind thinks you can just waltz up in here after everything you did and think I would do you favor? Much less-" You point to the kid he's still carrying. "The favor being taking care of a brat from when you cheated on me?"

Finally, Kohaku's smile drops as he frowns awkwardly. "Well...when you put it like that, it makes me look like a really bad guy."

"You are the bad guy." It seems your words nicked a nerve as his blue and green eyes flickered to your face, and his frown withered.

The Oni set the girl down on your laminated wooden floors before swiping a hand across his mouth and looking away. "It wasn't like that. You know I would never cheat on you. I just-"

You cannot even handle hearing anymore. The sound of his voice that you used to love trying to justify the way he broke your heart is something you can't bear. "You just what? You got some f*cken freedom in college and went off to do your own thing? Got to finally get away from my 'overbearingness' and 'clinginess' so you could f*ck around with, how did you put it, 'woman that wasn't like me'?"

Kohaku inhaled a deep breath and finally met your gaze as he placed an open hand on his broad chest. "I was childish and selfish. People were treating me like someone important, and I let it go to my head. I said things I didn't mean-"

Tears are burning in your eyes, burning like poison, as you step forward to grab the front of his shirt and tug. "You called me in the middle of the night while you were at a party just to tell me things were over! You had been neglecting me for weeks, and when you finally called, when I could finally hear your voice again, it was just to break up so you could f*ck some skank without a guilty conscious!"

He suddenly grips your wrist, the heat of his touch almost shocking you like electricity as he tears off your hold. "The way I broke up with you was f*cked up, I admit it. I apologize for that. But at least I had the f*cken decently to break up instead of cheating on you, instead of hiding it behind your back. I loved you enough to not do that sh*t to you."

"...What!?" You laugh in disbelief while yanking your arm out of his grasp. "Loved me enough!? If you had even loved me, you wouldn't have been ignoring me when you entered college! You wouldn't have stopped answering my calls! For f*cks sake, if you had really loved me, you wouldn't have broken up with me for some one-night stand when I was your girlfriend you promised to marry!"

Banging erupts from your living room wall, most likely from your neighbor to tell you to shut the f*ck up. It was already late, people were trying to sleep, and you were having a breakdown. Now that you could hear the silence of the apartment and feel the blood pumping in your veins, you then also realized tears were snaking down your cheeks.

"Damn." You whisper and turn your head away to march towards the kitchen. "I can't deal with you sober." It didn't take long for you to pour yourself a shot and downing it before grabbing a beer can and gulping half so the effects could hit you sooner.

From the entranceway, Kohaku says something to the girl before making his way over. You don't even look at him, leaning against the counter as the can hangs loosely between your fingers. So many years have passed since then, yet the wound of it all remains unhealed. He was your first love, someone you gave yourself to wholeheartedly.

You loved him with everything you had and believed that you both would go to the same college together, then marry later on, have a family, and grow old together. Truthfully, you should have known better; you romanticized that relationship. You both were just kids from a small town, not realizing how big the world was.

Well, you didn't. Because he was a grade above you, he went off to university first, and that's when he got a taste of what the real world was like. That's when he experienced so many things that a small town just can't provide.

He had his eyes opened while you remained blissfully ignorant.

Now that time has passed, you have experienced those feelings firsthand. The world was so different; there was so much going on that you would have never encountered if you stayed in that town. You get it; you get that you were just holding him back.

But that doesn't stop the hurt from becoming any less painful. It's been how many years, yet the feeling of betrayal still feels so fresh it's almost pathetic.

Were you the one who was more in love than he was? Is that why you're still hurt after all these years, even though you've already moved on?

"I'm sorry."

His voice right now is no longer pissing you off; it's just making you feel even more pathetic. You don't know if you ever quell the hatred from how he broke up with you, and that's sad. He did the adult thing and ended it instead of just lying behind your back.

How he went about it was wrong, but he did the right thing and left the relationship. You should be over it by now, but with his reappearance, those feelings have returned.

"...Don't... You're not sorry. You're just tryna make me feel better, and it's only make me feel worse." You murmur while covering your mouth and burping slightly from the carbonation. "So... who is the kid? Gotta be your daughter 'cause she's got that same stupid a** white streak."

Kohaku laughs in his throat before leaning against the wall on his side and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You used to love it." He teases, and you can tell he really is trying to lighten the mood, but you don't want any of that. "Well, today is actually the first time I've met her."

"Oh." You release like a breath of air before turning your head to face him. "Do tell."

He rubs the back of his neck with the leather of his jacket, squeaking from his movements. "That girl from college, we actually started dating after we...you know."

Something stings in your heart, but it drifts away in slow rolls as you breathe it out. "Wow. I guess it wasn't just some one-night stand, then. Don't know if it makes me feel better or worse, though."

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head. "Well, a couple of years later, she cheated on me, so we broke up. After that, I transferred to a different university and never saw her again or remained in contact with her. That was until this morning, she just showed up with the girl and some papers and declared I had full custody. She told me that the girl would be my full responsibility and I could do whatever I wanted without getting my ex involved. Then she just left."

You laugh under your breath. "Drops the responsibility on to you, huh, and now you're doing the same to me. And that girl isn't even mine." Whether you meant to or not, the last part poured from your lips with petty abhorrence.

It was your dream to have a child, to share a child with him that was from the both of you. Someone else got to have that dream, yet they threw it away so carelessly.

Kohaku stands to his full stature and steps forward. His height grows, and you remember the enormous height difference that you used to love. Somehow, he feels even taller than you remember.

"I'm sorry." He exclaims and places an open hand on your back. Was his hands always this big? It feels like he could cover so much space. "I'm really sorry for doing that. I'm not in the position to take care of her, nor is it safe for a kid to be around me. There's no one else I could think of but you to ask for this favor."

You lick your lips and stare into those multi-colored eyes. "Safe? And you couldn't ask anyone else's in your life? No other friends or girlfriends? Not even your dad?"

He removes his hand to place it against his chest as though he were wounded. "First of all, aren't you honored that you're the only one I can think of after all these years?"

You give him a deadpan expression while pointing a finger at him. "No."

"You're literally no fun." He whines. "And for your information, Dad would make things more complicated than they would need to be. I don't need that right now when I've got to figure things out."

A laugh ripples from your mouth and echoes out. "Ahh, your dad would grab you by the horn and go and on about family values 'till your ear would fall off. Then he'd put that girl to work on the farms. That old fart wouldn't miss any opportunity for free labor."

Even speaking of it brings forth memories of helping around the farm because you were too nice to say no. He always managed to keep you around for hours until your mother would come to get you. You'd be all dirty, sweaty, and (tanned/burned) from being under the sun for so long.

You hated those times, but they are memories you will never forget. They were part of your childhood and adolescence, and they did give you some muscle that helped you do well in sports.

Sighing, you lean forward to rest your arms on the counter and your cheek on your wrist as the dizziness comes forth. "How is your old man?"

"Same old, same old." He responds and maneuvers so he's resting his behind against the counter and elbows on it to hold up his weight. "He'll honestly outlive us from his sheer stubbornness."

That statement couldn't be any more true. If you were the queen of pettiness, then his father was the king of stubbornness. Whatever his dad decided on, he would stick with it to the end, even if he were in the complete wrong.

As much as you love the big world and the big city, there is that nostalgic feeling of sitting on his father's porch in that big squeaky rocking chair and drinking a fresh glass of lemonade. It would be nice to do that again and stare out onto the massive field of his farmland, feeling the cool breeze on your skin.

The same four country songs always seemed to play from his beat-up radio, yet he refused to let anyone change the station. You used to hate that and dread even the sound of a guitar. Now, you find yourself missing it.

"I miss your batty old dad." You state, mumbling under your breath and blinking heavily.

Kohaku laughs and nods his head with a slight grin. "As much as that old man gets on my nerves, I miss him too."

Nothing more is stated; instead, sharing a deep silence that would have been awkward to others but was comforting to both of you.

Surprisingly, you were looking at the past and yearning for the simpler times. Doing so usually would just leave you aggravated, but tonight, it was pacifying. Life is always so busy, and you like that it never leaves you a moment to dwell on the past and what could have been.

Maybe you just needed to get those feelings off your chest. After the breakup, you were never in contact with him again. The anger from the heartbreak had you crumble up all those feelings and throw them down in a void.

They were a weakness, something you refused to give in to. But the anger remained, and questions you always wanted to ask were stuck in the back of your head. They didn't push forward, they didn't take precedent, they were just there, waiting.

Sniffling, you stand up and step over to the sink to dump the rest of your beer. "What is her name?"

"Simat? If I could name her, it would have been something cooler."

You angle your head back to sneer at him. "Don't kid yourself. You would have named her something ridiculous like your Gamertag. I don't even want to hear it." If there is one thing he should never get his hands on, it's naming.

Abpruplty, your phone rings, and you see Rafe on the screen. You didn't realize how close it was to one o'clock.

"Ouu, your boyfriend." Kohaku teases as he snatches your phone to look at the picture. "Hmm, he's decent looking and has good nose genetics. However, you could do better. And what's with that name? Don Juan is so ridiculous. And you're the one saying I suck at coming up with names." He utters with a finger on his chin as though he were profoundly contemplating.

"A**hole." You exclaim and snatch back your cellular device, only for the call to end. "It's a joke nickname from our friend group. And as an ex-boyfriend, you have no right to judge my boyfriend."

The Oni falls back comically while holding a hand against his chest, tugging at it as though he were having a heart attack. "You wound me, (Y/n). As an ex-boyfriend, I have every right. I have to make sure the men you get with aren't better looking than me!"

His response yields another deep sigh, and you shift your weight onto one leg and cross your arms beneath your bust. "Get the f*ck out of my apartment."

"What about-"

"I will do you this favor one time, but after, don't ever come back asking for anything. Don't ever come back, period. You're from my past; you don't belong in my future." With that said, you stride past the muscular man and back to the living room, where the little girl sits playing with a big Orc doll.

Kohaku follows you around your couch and kneels in front of the girl. He places his big hands on her knees and gains her attention. "I have to go now. I'm sorry for leaving your side, but it's not safe at my place. I'll be coming around every few days to see you, okay?"

Simat doesn't speak, but she nods her head before resuming her attention on her big green doll. The older Oni appears to be observing her appearance for a few seconds before standing up and placing a hand on her head to ruffle her already disorderly hair.

With one last look, he begins making his way to your front door, with you following behind. "Should I give you my email so you can notify me when you're coming to see her or-"

"No, I've already got your number," Kohaku states before winking and exiting the front door. "By the way, you need a new robe. I can see your a**cheeks, not that I mind~!"

"Kohaku, you pervert! Wait, how!? I changed my number after high school!" You question in the hallway, but he refrains from responding, only waving his hand until he disappears around the corner.

With a defeated sigh, you close the door and lock it. Now, it's just the two of you alone in your apartment. It's awkward, and you cannot help the painful feelings. Resentment fills your veins, a nasty bitterness that corrodes your insides.

You have to remind yourself that this child is an innocent bystander, someone who had no say in what had transpired. It was not her fault she was born, much less from your ex-boyfriend. It's just the way things were.

Finally, you were able to shake yourself up enough to go to your room, grab some undersized clothes that she could fit into, and return.

"Simat?" She slowly looks up from her doll and stares with her heterochromia eyes. From the moment you met her, that dead expression has remained, not once going away. She's not crying for Mommy or Daddy; she's not afraid of some stranger standing in front of her.

It's eerie, almost scary, and it slowly eats away the corroding of resentment. "Do you want to shower or sleep?" You ask her softly, yet she only stares at you with those lifeless eyes. If it were not for the slight movement of her chest from breathing, you would have thought she was some broken, dirty doll thrown out.

"Okay, umm. Take these clothes and change in the bathroom. I'll make the bed for you." Without wasting time, she stands up to take the clothes and make her way down the hall to the bathroom. You didn't tell her where it was, but she must have been looking around while you and Kohaku were talking.

She looks pitiful; you cannot help but feel bad for her.

With her changing, you push forward the coffee table to pull out the bed. It was an expensive couch you bought a while ago for when your girlfriends were too drunk to go home. With their picky choices, you were able to find this one that they actually liked, so it should be good enough for the girl.

It already has clean sheets, so you go to the closet to grab the piles of pillows and blankets you have before making the bed. Simat returns soon after in your PJs before placing her sweater, socks, and shoes in her little pink bag.

"Do you want to watch something or..." Simat only stares at you as she stands in her spot. With a slight narrowing of your eyes, you point your hand that had the remote at the bed. "Go lay down." Instantly, the girl listens, grasping the blanket to help haul herself on top. "Simat, get off for a second." Without a complaint, she does so, sliding off and standing right next to it with no change in her expression.

The pity you felt had intensified, and you suddenly regretted the way you had spoken to her earlier. She seems very closed off for a young girl when she should be expressing herself at this age. Even more, she's incredibly obedient, following orders without a word or complaint.

"Come sit here for a second. I want to talk to you." The girl listens, climbing back up before crossing her legs and holding the doll against her chest.

Slowly, you sit on the edge and lick your lips while trying to figure out the right words to say. "I'm sorry for all the yelling you heard earlier. I was just really upset, but that is no excuse. My name is (Y/n). I was your daddy's friend from a long time ago." No words, just a blank stare. "Uh, you'll be staying with me for a while, but your father will be here every few days. I don't have a daughter, so I'm not sure how to take care of you, but if there are things that you don't like, then don't be afraid to tell me. I don't know how things were at your mom's, but here you have every option you want, whether it's if you want to watch TV or not. Okay?"

No response; her nose barely even flares as she breathes. "To make things easier, nod your head for okay or yes. Shake for no. Okay?" For a second, she seems to hesitate before finally she moves her head up and down a little.

It feels like a small victory, and you cannot help but smile. "I'm not good at this stuff, but let's learn together, okay?" Again, it takes her a few seconds as though she is thinking about it, but she nods. "Alright. I'm going to put a kid's movie on, but if you don't like it, then here is the remote. You can stay up however long you want for now. In the morning, we'll have breakfast, and then we'll go from there."

Slowly, she nods her head, which spurs you to softly pat her head before standing up and pulling the covers over her lap. "Goodnight, Simat. I'll see you in the morning." The girl doesn't say anything, only sinking into the pillows and staring at the large TV screen.

Without making much noise, you go to your own bed only to pass out once your head hits the pillow. You hadn't even changed out of your robe, and you're too tired from the emotional rollercoaster no one but your ex can make you ride.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

In the morning, you are woken up by the ringing of your phone. Your eyes are still closed, and your mind is half awake as you answer. "Hmm."

"'Morning, babe. I'm almost done getting ready. Then I'm going to come get you to go to Selena's." Rafe's voice comes out from the device, and you hum in response.

However, after a few seconds, your head shoots up as your eyes widen. Sh*t, how are you going to explain to him that you're babysitting your ex-boyfriend's kid after no contact for like six years? Rafe is already super jealous and not trusting of any males in your life. His parents would be even worse if you showed up out of the blue with some kid who wasn't their son's offspring.

Dammit

"Sh*t babe, I forgot I've already made plans with my sister." You lie straight through your teeth as you sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your sister isn't even in the same country, busy on her own holiday voyage that he hopefully doesn't know about.

"What?" Rafe questions and scoffs. "Come on, can't you just take a raincheck? You keep skipping out every time they want to see you, and I already told them you were coming last night. You know how it's going to look when you cancel again."

It does look bad that you are ignoring them, but so what? They were so incredibly rude last time, and seeing them would ruin your day, even if they want to apologize. "It's not my fault they found it so funny to call me slurs and laugh about it in front of my face. I can take a slur as a joke, but they weren't joking. I'll see them when I want to see them. I'm getting ready; I'll call you later." Rafe begins saying something, but you do not even let him get his words out, quickly hanging up and collapsing onto your back.

Staring up at your ceiling, you take deep breaths to calm your vexation before slowly sitting up. Your back and neck hurt from falling asleep in that awkward position without moving. You must have been exhausted to sleep like the dead.

After taking a moment to center yourself entirely, you get up and open the door to step down the hallway and into the living room quietly. The TV is still on, playing the Lorax halfway through as you peek over the couch.

Simat was awake, hugging her Orc doll while watching the movie. "Good morning, Simat. Did you sleep?" She looks over before slowly nodding her head. "Are you hungry?" Another nod. "Okay, come. Go sit at the counter over there and wait while I make something."

She does need to be told twice, obediently following orders as she crawls out of bed and shuffles to the bar stools. You had to hold back your laughter as you watched her struggle to get up, climbing like a little monkey.

"Alright, let's see..." you murmur while opening the fridge. You look through its contents before removing some strawberries, butter, and milk and setting them on the counter. "I'm going to make pancakes. Are you okay with that?" Another nod.

Silently, you begin pulling out all the other ingredients you need before setting up the skillet. Simats eyes are watching you the whole time, and you wonder if she's just curious or if she watches your every move out of fear to watch for danger.

Her silence and obedience already strike you as odd, but it might not be far from a stretch to assume she was abused or, more so, neglected. There is not much you can do as an outsider; she's not even your daughter. But for now, you can just try to give her options and help her understand that it's safe in this place even though you are a stranger.

"When I was a kid, my mom used to make pancakes that looked just like characters from my favorite anime. Have you heard of Sailor Moon?" When you turn, you see that she shakes her head no. "Really? We should watch it some time then. It's an older series, so the graphics are not that great, but I prefer it still over the remake. Just something about the new one; I just don't like it."

With the batter mixed, you begin pouring small pools onto a hot skillet. "You know, when I don't like things, I won't do them. If I don't like it, if it hurts me or would make me unhappy, I don't do it." Flipping a pancake, you reach up in the cupboard to grab a plate. "I want you to understand that you are safe here to express yourself. You won't get hurt or yelled at if you say no. I will respect you enough to listen to your feelings, but I need you to respect me enough to listen too, okay?"

You don't turn your head to look at her, but you can feel her nod. You're unsure if she is truly listening to you or taking your words seriously. Hopefully, she'll keep your words in mind while she stays here.

After the food was done, you cut up some strawberries and lathered the pancakes in butter before presenting them to the girl and giving her two different bottles of syrup, one with a rich taste and another with a more robust flavor.

She didn't eat or even lift her fork, only continuing to watch you as you made your way around the bar and took a seat next to her. Her eyes observed as you grabbed the first bottle, poured it over your food, and began cutting it up. Once you had put the bottle down, she grabbed the one you had and poured it over her plate almost the same way you did (dousing it/light covering it).

Only when you started eating did she tear off a small piece and eat. It was both cute, as though she were mimicking you, but sad as you wondered if she wanted to make sure it was safe to eat or if she even had the right to eat.

Silently, you both ate together until you finished and stood up to begin washing the dishes. Simat was still eating, but when you turned to check up on her, you noticed she was eating slowly and took smaller bites than before.

"If you're full, do not force yourself to eat more than what you can handle. I won't yell or hurt you if you are done. And you're not wasting food; you just can't eat anymore." It seemed your words were exactly what she needed to hear as she dropped her fork and leaned back, seeming to pat her belly softly.

It was too cute, like an arrow to the heart. "Good girl," you told her, then took her plate, emptied the rest away, and finished the clean-up.

After a few minutes of cleaning, you heard the chair scrape, and Simat came over to the kitchen. She stood right by your side, with her eyes never straying from your figure. Is food the way into this little girl's heart?

"Woo, I hate washing dishes." You joke with a little laugh before turning to the kid. That unruly hair needs to be taken care of, and she's even got some syrup on her chin that's shining in the light. "Alright, let's bathe you. Come follow me."

Obediently, she follows you down the hall to the bathroom, where you turn the shower handle, and water bursts into the clean, porcelain basin. "Do you want hot water and bubbles?" she nods. "Good; I love bubbles, too."

As the tub fills with an obscene amount of bubbles, you begin to help her undress. Other than her matching markings beneath the eyes she obtained from her father, there don't appear to be any scars or markings.

It was a sigh of relief; you don't think you could hold in your anger if there were physical signs of abuse. She's not you're kid, she's not your daughter, but hurting any child in a manner was unacceptable. A slap here and there if a kid really needs discipline, but anything more would earn your fist in the parent's face. Every kid deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a kid.

When Simat enters the tub, her attention is immediately stolen by the piles of bubbles, and she begins to play with them. She places them on her chin and cheeks, almost mimicking a beard that brings forth a laugh.

For a second, she glances at you before returning it to the tub and adding more to her fake beard, the shape taking the form of a long wizard beard. "You make a good wizard. Should I buy you a cape and a wand?" Your joke, which you said more to yourself, had earned the child's gaze. Finally, those dead eyes hold a twinkle, a soft sparkle deep inside her colored irises.

In an instant, you make a mental note to buy a wand and a cape immediately after this.

While she continued to play, you washed her lengthy hair, which was way thicker than you expected. You thought you used a lot of conditioner, but this girl gave you a run for your money. You're going to have to buy more while she stays here, in fact, you need to buy lots of things.

Not that you mind, shopping is fun, and even more fun when you have that Christmas bonus your boss gave everyone for the holidays.

Once the water begins to turn lukewarm and the bubbles cease, you help her out and give her one of your robes. It was too oversized for her, but she looked cute in it. The two of you enter your bedroom, where you lift and sit her at the edge of your bed while you go scouring through your clothes for something around her size.

There isn't any underwear that would fit, so you put down a pair of black biker shorts that shrunk in the wash. Even most of your shirts, other than your office clothes, are inappropriate for her age, so for now, you give her one of your crop top sweaters that is just long enough to reach her hips.

"Alright, you can change into these and then meet me in the bathroom so we can take care of your hair." She nods and reaches for the clothes while you exit and shut the door for privacy. While she does that, you'll brush your teeth and do your own hair since it dried awkwardly last night.

It's still unbelievable what is happening. After six years, your first love shows up on your doorstep to drop off a daughter he didn't even know he had; what a joke. It feels like a joke, a cruel joke being played.

When you were just a teen, you used to dream about your future and imagine all these different scenarios of what your life would be like together. You'd probably have a couple of kids, all taking after their father, considering that Oni's blood was seriously dominant.

Simat really does look like her father other than her tan skin, which made her eyes really pop. There's a knock at the door, and you tell her to come in just as you finish (throwing your hair up/pinning it back).

She looks charming in your clothes, almost looking like you, frankly. Waving her over, she takes a step in front of you by the sink as you reach for a brush. "It doesn't seem like anyone took care of your beautiful hair, so I'm going to brush it and then cut a little. Is that okay?" Another nod so you diligently get to work.

Her tangles had mostly calmed down after you soaked it in detangler, so you didn't have to struggle much. However, the ends were really poor, with a considerable amount of split ends, so you had to cut off quite a few inches. Those precious locks that reached her ankles were now just a little past her bum, but now that you see curls coming in, you realize she had curly hair.

No one seemed to take care of it, so there's no way those curls would have flourished. Luckily, you had some curl cream that would do wonders for the shape.

"I'm going to use the blow dryer, so be prepared for the loud noise, okay?" Simat nodded as she raised her hands to cover her face, which was too cute. For now, you put it on medium and scrunched her hair while drying it from below.

"When I was younger, I wanted to be a hairstylist so bad. I thought I was so skilled when I gave all my dolls haircuts. Looking back at it now, I was actually pretty terrible, but my dad told me I was good enough to be a professional." You look at Simat in the mirror and see her daddy in every aspect. "Dads love their little girls very much. Sometimes, they're a little too overbearing, dictating everything we can and cannot do. I used to hate my dad, who always embarrassed me in front of my friends and never let me stay out late. But I look back on it and think how grateful I am that my father took my hate silently so that I could be protected."

You don't know what Kohaku has been doing these past years or what he's up to, but the one thing you know is that he would be a good father. After all, he brought Simat here to put her safety above all else, even if it made it look like he was abandoning her.

"Alright, you're all done! Look at these curls! You don't even know how much money girls spend just to get something similar." Simat lowers her hands to look in the mirror, and it is another arrow to the heart as she curiously raises her hair to play with the bounce. "Okay, go to the living room and finish your movie while I change."

You didn't even ask her a question, but she nodded her head and went down the hall. Slowly, she seems to be opening up, and hopefully, you can get her to be as comfortable as possible.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, you change into jeans and a turtleneck before grabbing a jacket and making your way over to the kitchen, where you left your phone. There are a couple of missed calls from Rafe and a few missed texts from his parents, but you don't even want to see them, so you just swipe them away.

To your surprise, there was a text from an unknown number.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Arise sunshine, I hope u got ur beauty sleep in. I'll be busy today and tomorrow, so I won't be able to talk much throughout the day, but before she goes to bed, try to give me a call. I'd like to speak to her.

Also, thanks again for taking care of her during my absence. I know it took u a lot to put aside everything and accept it, and I really appreciate that. No one is as reliable as u r. 💖 😘

◢

What a kissa**, trying to butter you to lessen your anger. Unfortunately, It's working. With a sigh, you lean against the wall and respond.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Yeah, yeah.

So far, Simat's doing really well. She's still pretty nonverbal, but I have her nodding yes and shaking her head for no. It seems like your ex really neglected her, but I'm trying to get her to open up at her own pace.

I'm going to take her shopping. I need to get her clothes that fit and some other necessities that the kid needs.

◢

To your surprise, right when you are about to put your cellular device away, it vibrates to show a reply from your ex.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Ur so responsible I'm envious😙😙

If there is one thing I miss, it's being coddled by u. It was nice to lay in bed and have u bring evryt to me.😪😵‍💫

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Why do you still text like a teenage girl?

The amount of emojis you use makes me sick. Please get them off my screen before I block you and take your kid away.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

There is nothing against a grown man using abbreviations.

Stop being prejudiced (Y/n)😠🥶. U really need to fix that stereotyping.

+get Simat wtv she needs and get urself a little smth on the side.

Ps. If u still like cherry panties and end up buying sum, pls send pics.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

First of all, I'm an independent woman, and I make good money, so I can buy whatever Simat and I want.

SECOND OF ALL YOU LITTLE PERVERT

I'M IN A RELATIONSHIP!

DO NOT ASK FOR PANTY SHOTS UNLESS YOU'D LIKE MY BOYFRIEND TO HEAR ABOUT IT.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

I can fight.

◢

He is literally so damn obnoxious you cannot stand him. You're just going to leave him on read, but you will take your money, not because you need it. Who would give up free money?

Shutting off your phone, you place it in your back pocket, grab your purse and keys from the nightstand, and then call out to the girl. "Come, Simat. We're going to go to the store and get you the things that you need."

The kid turned to face you before glancing down at her doll and then back at you. "Yes, you can bring your doll. Just don't drop it, okay." she nods quickly before hopping off the bed and running up to you.

With everything ready, you exit your front door and lock it with your keypad and fingerprint. Once that's done, the two of you make your way to the elevator, which requires a key card to operate, and begin your descent to the parking lot.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Simat didn't mind your music while on the ride; she seemed infatuated with the city, watching everything that could be seen. As she sits in the back seat, you give yourself a mental note to buy a booster seat as well.

Due to the morning traffic, it took a little while to get to the mall, but you both made it safely and parked close to the entrance. With there being many people on a Saturday morning, you crouch down and meet the girl's gaze.

"Do you want to hold my hand so you don't get lost in the crowd?" It didn't take much convincing for her to nod her head and stick out her left hand. With a smile, you grabbed it gently but held it firmly as the two of you entered.

With the holiday coming up, it was a bit hectic with all the people there, though the discounts and sales were a nice bonus. First, you wanted to get everything Simat needed before you even looked at your favorite stores.

Once you enter the mall and start looking at the things you like, you lose all sense of time and are there for hours.

The little Oni held your hand in her own as she obediently followed you and stayed by your side. While you shopped and picked up clothes that looked in her size, she surveyed everything she could. She watched people like they were in a movie, almost like something she didn't see very often.

After filling up your basket, it came to your favorite part: the try-on! Of course, you don't mean to take advantage of how obedient she is, but it is crucial that her clothes fit and look good.

Sitting by the bench by the mirrors and dressing rooms, you giddily awaited every outfit. And you were not disappointed! Every fit looked perfect with her adorable face, cute baby horns, and gorgeous curly hair. Honestly, if you hadn't gotten the job you did, you could have pursued fashion.

She looked good in everything, and you had to make sure to get a few onesies and animal sweatshirts. There was a hoodie with cat ears that she particularly liked looking at—geez, it was just absolutely adorable.

Even though Kohaku pissed you off, you still sent him a few pictures of his daughter that you were sure he'd appreciate.

With the clothes bought and paid for, you went to a store and let Simat look around. She seemed to like playdough and legos. Then, when coming across the stuffies, her eyes sparked on the dragon and wolf. Of course, they were a must, so you bought three each.

The Oni refused to let them pack it up, so she carried her Orc doll, one dragon, and one wolf stuffed toy. It was both adorable and funny how she carried around these massive toys with a blank look on her face.

Another snap of a picture, saved and sent.

Now that her part of the shopping was done, you decided to skip a few unimportant stores since you've already been shopping for so long. It helped that you rented out one of the children's push carts that have a fake car attached to the front so Simat could sit down when she got tired.

Surprisingly, it was nice shopping with Simat, although her obedience and non-verbal speech made it easy. You wonder what it would be like having your own child by your side to shop with. They'd probably be rowdy, complaining about being bored and exhausted from being on their feet.

And now that you're thinking about it, you don't even see having kids in the future, at least with Rafe. He's a good man; he makes you happy, and your relationship is decent and healthy. But right now, you can't see that far in the future with Rafe. You wonder if it's because your ex-boyfriend suddenly showed up again after six years to stir up your old feelings. It's hard to forget your first love when that was the person you believed wholeheartedly was yours forever.

But just like before, you'll have to let him go as he is only in your life again for a short while.

When the music quieted down, you were surprised to hear Simat's stomach growl. She even looked down, embarrassed. You told her that you were going to buy whatever was in your hand, and then you'd both get something to eat.

It was bustling in the food court with so many people talking and so much general noise. Holiday music was blaring through the speakers while the rings and dings that food was ready echoed out.

There's just something you love about places that are filled with vigor. Thankfully, Simat didn't seem to mind either as she rode in her little fake car. You got her some chicken tenders and fries and something simple for yourself since you wanted room for dinner, considering you both were eating a little later. For a dessert, though, you did decide to buy some cinnamon pretzels.

They've been your favorite snack since forever, something you always get whenever you're shopping at the mall.

Just like this morning, she seemed to wait until you started eating before digging it, but when she started eating, she didn't stop until it was empty. Again, she was even patting her full belly like earlier; geez, it was so cute!

Arrow to the heart!

A couple of times, Rafe tried to call, but you texted him that you were busy, and eventually, you just shut your phone to have some space from him. As much as you love him, you don't want to see him questioning if you're hanging out with other men while you're trying to enjoy the outing with Simat.

Once you both were done, you looked around a little more until an hour or two passed by, and then you decided it was time to move. You drove to the general store and bought the actual necessities Simat would need while also getting groceries and more toys. She got a few bubble blowers and bath playthings before you called it quits.

If you'd let her, she'd probably grab the entire bubble toy section.

Now that everything was purchased, you began the drive home with her new booster seat. Only a few minutes into the drive, she had fallen asleep against the door. You had to wait until a stop to take a picture of her mouth open and arms draped by the side.

You wonder if she felt safe enough to fall asleep in your presence. Most neglected children would probably stay awake for survival, so seeing her ease up like this was a blessing,

For the rest of the drive, you took your time with the music calm and on low. Oddly enough, this has probably been one of the most gratifying off days you've had. It was peaceful and fun...something you've been missing from life for a while now.

Pulling into the underground parking lot, you came to a stop and softly called out to the girl. She jolted awake quickly, blue and green eyes wide open as she assessed her surroundings before rapidly calming down and her expression resuming the usual blankness.

"Hey, girl. Did you have a good nap?" She slowly nodded her head while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "We are back now, but if you are still sleepy, you can finish your nap when we get upstairs." With another nod, you both exited the vehicle, grabbed all the bags, and made your way to the elevator.

With everything you got, it was actually cumbersome, but Mama ain't raise no b*tch, and you're going to take everything in one trip. "Press the button with the number 5." She studied the buttons for a second before clicking the right one and glancing up at you as though she were waiting for something. "Good job!" She nodded seriously.

On your floor, you took a deep breath before picking everything up again, speed-walked down the hall, and took the corner before reaching your place at the end. You entered the security lock and your thumbprint and pushed it wide open to carry everything in.

Quickly, you dropped everything down in the foyer and stood back to full height while shaking your arms. "Phew, my wrist." You complained softly before turning your attention to Simat, who stood silently by your side. "Alright, you can go watch TV while I put everything away. I'll start dinner after, and we'll eat together, okay?"

With one of her nods, she takes her three giant dolls and walks over to the living room before doing a little hop to get on the bed.

Now that you were preoccupied, you took your time putting away the groceries and necessities. With her clothes, you pulled out a couple of your collapsable bins and folded her clothes inside. It'll be in your room for now against the wall, so when she needs to change, everything will be right here.

For dinner, you made loco moco, which should be easily digestible. And who doesn't like hamburgers, rice, a sunny-side-up egg, and brown gravy? Like before, she waited until you took your seat and took a bite first before eating.

After this big plate, you honestly could go to sleep right then and there, but it was too early, and you didn't want to leave Simat alone. Her toys are all in the ottoman in the living room, so after washing dishes, you let her pull out the things she wanted and played along. Her obsession right now seemed to be the bubbles, so you stood around blowing them as she jumped around, trying to catch them.

You even sent a video to Kohaku, who still had yet to see the images from earlier. He must be pretty preoccupied if he couldn't look at them yet. Hopefully, he answers when you put her to bed; it would be good if he showed consistency.

"Alright, Simat. It's bath time. Put your toys away, okay?" She nods, following your orders until the living room is clean again, and shuffles towards the bathroom, where you have already filled the tub with warm water and more soapy bubbles.

Simat's hair texture and scalp didn't seem to need to be washed every day, though you'll scrub it again just for tonight, but this time with products that align with her hair type. All clean, you took her out and gave her a robe her size before traveling to the bedroom, where you pulled out a matching set of kitty pajamas.

She changed while you cleaned up the bathroom and wiped water that fell out of the bath. When you checked the time, it had just hit eight p.m. At her age, she shouldn't go to sleep any later than nine, so you ushered her to her bed in the living room.

It now looked more like it belonged to a child with her seven stuffed animals and pink fluffy blanket. "Simat, it's bedtime. Come lay down, and I'll try to call your father." You tell her, and she comes over to hop on the mattress and snuggle beneath the covers.

Taking a deep breath, you called and hoped he answered for the sake of his daughter. However, it seems your prayers fell on deaf ears as it continued to ring and ring before ending when the call dropped. You tried again, and still, you received no response; it was just the automatic voicemail coming up.

Now, you have to be the bearer of bad news. "I'm sorry, Simat-" Kohaku's number pops up on the screen, and you breathe a sigh of relief. "About time you answer!"

He laughs on the line as you hear the sound of cracking and buzzing fading off in the distance. "Sorry, sorry, please don't rip my head off! I said I would try to answer, but I get even busier at night."

"Doing what?" You challenge only to receive an awkward chuckle in response. Sighing, you lean back against the bed and speak. "Whatever, I don't wanna know. I'm going to hand over the phone to Simat." Without waiting for an answer, you give your phone to the girl, who holds it close with both hands.

Geez, it looks so cute, arrow to the heart!

While the two 'talked, ' you got up and went to your room to grab a change of clothes and hair products for afterward. He seemed to be talking a lot, so you took a seat in your office and checked over your work emails.

It appears everything has been running smoothly while you've been off. This is not a surprise, considering most get their act together for a holiday bonus at the office during the holidays. Less work meant less stress and less stress meant happier days and more off time.

There's a soft knock on your door frame, and you look up to see Simat in the doorway with your phone in her hand. "Oh, are you done speaking with Daddy?" She nods and comes closer to hand over your phone. "Okay, go lay down, and I'll be there to tuck you in."

You wait for her to be out of sight before raising your phone and asking, "Hello?"

"Hey, it seems like you two had a good day."

"Yeah, did you get a chance to look at the pictures and stuff I sent?" You ask and lean back in your swivel chair.

"I did!" He responds with a slight laugh. There's a flicking sound, something you recognized as the flicking open of a zippo lighter. "I saw you cut and did her hair; it looks really good. Also, she looked so cute in the Christmas dress. Try to have her wear that during the holiday."

A smile plays on your lips while you shake your head. "She looked so cute in everything else, too. It seemed like she really liked clothes with cat or dog ears that she could play with. For Christmas, you should get her some Legos, probably a medieval castle with a dragon. She seems fascinated with dragons and wolves."

"I love that. She's creative!"

You hate the way you can practically hear and see his smile from his voice. It brings about that nostalgia and deep yearning you've been pushing down. "Do you want to hear about our day?"

"Of course, I'm surprised you even asked."

B*stard, you wish he was just an asshole so you didn't feel this way. But right now, all you can do is keep it in the back of your head, as this is not permanent. In a few months, both of them will gone, and you'll never see them again.

So, you told him everything about the day, starting with breakfast and the little things you noticed all the way down to her snuggling up in bed and eagerly awaiting to hear from her father. You wanted him to know everything that you've observed so it would be easier for him to understand and take care of her.

Switching dominant guardians would probably be stressful, but hopefully, it'll be easy for her to assimilate to the change.

"And that's everything. I'm off tomorrow and the next day, so if you're going to come over, give me a heads-up so I can make food or something." You murmur while playing with the ends of your hair.

"I got sh*t to do tomorrow, but the next day, I'll definitely come by. It will probably be later in the afternoon, so have some mochi crunch ready for me to pound."

"For real?" You question while rising from your seat. "You're going to bloat up eating all that soy. Do you really want to scare your daughter by turning into a mush monster?"

He gasps on the line and murmurs something in Japanese that you cannot hear. "First of all, you need not to be so judgmental, you judgmental b*tch. People get canceled over things like that. Second of all, I ain't hearing sh*t from you, who eats like two bags of hot Cheetos a week."

After all these years, he can still joke like it were just the two of you again, sitting at the small theater and making a fool himself. It makes sense; everyone always wanted to be his friend with his high charisma and colorful humor.

It makes sense why he couldn't be yours forever. A man like that belongs to others, not to a small-town girl like you. "Whatever. I need to take a shower, so I'm hanging up now. Just be aware I'll be calling you every night at eight because I don't want her going to bed too late."

"Got it—good night (Y/n). And thanks again for taking care of her. You've always been good at taking care of other people. I just know you're going to fill her with every bit of love and joy you bring. People have always liked coming to you to feel better."

There's that warmth again in your belly, that little sting that both hurts and feels good. You both want him to get out of your life and stay.

"Goodnight." Is all you could muster before ending the call and exhaling a deep breath. For now, you don't want to think about him anymore. "Did I take too long?" You ask the little Oni as you come over to the couch.

She shook her head sluggishly, proving her point wrong as she struggled to stay awake. With a small smile, you tuck her in and lay her stuffies by her side as she snuggles the Orc one. "Goodnight, Simat. Sweet dreams. I'll come wake you in the morning, and we'll have some bacon and eggs, okay?"

Simat doesn't nod this time; however, you do see the faintest smile on her lips when the TV screen flashes brightly.

Arrow to the heart!

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The following day, you two stayed in your robes and ate breakfast together before lying in her bed together. With the rain wreaking havoc on the outside, you both decided to stay in and pass the day on.

She seemed to want to watch the Dragon Ball movies, so you had a marathon all day with candies and fruits in the living room. Of course, you made sure to fill her in on the lore since there was so much that happened throughout the series that she was not aware of.

When there are things that catch her interest, she becomes consumed by them, having to indulge in all forms of content before letting it go. It kind of reminds you of yourself and your unhealthy obsession with certain books when you were younger—some of the worst and best times of your life.

For lunch, you had hot dogs and chips before watching some more, and for dinner, it consisted of smoked pork and green beans. The cycle repeated as you played a little bit longer before she showered and lay down to talk to her father.

This time, he thankfully answered on the first ring, and two could talk. When they were done, she handed the phone right back to you, only for Kohaku to ask how your day was again. You both spoke for a little bit before you ended the call and tucked Simat in.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

It was the day when your ex-boyfriend would be coming over, and you couldn't stop the anxiety you were feeling...nor the excitement of seeing him. So wrong; it was wrong for you to feel like for another man while you were in a relationship.

But it's fleeting, it should be.

Today, you both ate some cereal and changed into different clothes. It was not raining, but heavy gloomy clouds remained, so you decided to take Simat out to an arcade. Her blue and green eyes had sparked in the flashing lights of the game room, and you could for once see her excitement.

Whatever she wanted to play, she got it, and when you played air hockey with her, she just kept beating you. It made no sense; you used to be the undefeated champion?! Even Kohaku fell to your power; it was absolutely unbelievable.

She ate your a** up in almost every other competitive game; at some point, you just had to let her go off and play the games herself. Eventually, it was a little past one, and you wanted to be back before her father arrived, so you brought her to the reward section and let her get whatever she wanted.

An arrow stuck you in the heart when she bought matching mood rings and gave you one.

The drive back was peaceful, and when you arrived at your apartment, you were surprised to see Kohaku leaning against your door as he scrolled on his phone.

"Hey, you pig." You call out and start approaching him. "I thought I said to give me a heads-up. It's gonna make me look suspicious if some emo creep hangs around my front door."

Kokahu fakes an injury as he holds a hand to his heart and swings a plastic bag by his side. "I'm hurt. How can you get even prettier but meaner as the time goes by." He whines. "I even brought you your favorite dessert from the bakery back home, and this is how you treat me?"

Damn, now you feel like sh*t and bashful from his compliment. His stupid a** continues to be such a smooth talker, and he doesn't even realize the effects they are having on you.

"Whatever." You mumble and enter your password, making sure to cover it from prying eyes before opening the door and letting everyone in.

Simat heads in first and goes straight to her bed, where she tries to grab all her stuffies and brings them over to her dad to see. "Wow, what is all this?" He exclaims and kneels, only for her to shove them into his arms.

"I told you, she has an obsession with dragons and wolves." You respond while placing her arcade bag down on the coffee table.

"Did they not have any Oni stuffies?" he asks, coming closer so he can collapse on the couch bed.

You turned to him with an expression as though you couldn't believe the dense sh*t that came out of his mouth. "Are you dumb? Have you seen the Oni stuffies they sell? It'll give her nightmares!"

Kohaku only mocks you, clicking his tongue and smacking his lips as he looks away.

"Simat, why don't you take out your bubbles, and your daddy can set up the automatic one?" She nodded enthusiastically before removing the ottoman's top and all her bubble toys and devices.

With those two busy, you get out the snacks and make them a tray, placing them down on the nightstand before returning to the kitchen to start dinner.

The two seemed to get along; it was easy for Kohaku to get along with anyone. He was also the one the kids always liked, no matter their sass or attitude.

Simat is in good hands; she probably won the game by getting him as her father. He'd honestly spoil her so rotten that you're going to have to instill gratefulness into her so she doesn't get a nasty attitude later on.

For today's menu, there were buttered noodles and shrimp with a side of fresh Cezar salad. Wait...you don't know if Simat likes seafood or is allergic to it. "Hey, Kohaku."

The man hums before you hear him shift and make his way over. "What is it?" When you look up, you have to stop yourself from audibly gasping. He took off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him in a black tank top and jeans.

His arms have grown to a much larger and sculpted shape, not to mention the wiggly veins that protrude against his pale skin. He's always been fit and attractive, but he seemed to have gone through a second growth spurt, and he exerts masculinity right in front of you.

"Uh. What was I saying..." You state out loud before shaking your head and returning your gaze to the pot. "Oh, right. Did her mom say anything about allergies, like seafood? I'm making butter noodles with shrimp, but I don't know if she's allergic."

He shakes his head while stepping forward and leaning over the pot. "No, not from what I'm aware. And I've got to say, I really missed your cooking. My dad still nags me about getting some beef stew that he had last time all those years ago."

Your heart skips a beat, and blood rushes to your face as you focus on cleaning the shrimp. "Well, nothing beats a home-cooked meal, and your dad could never cook for sh*t." A laugh rings out from your lips from just the memory.

Staying over at his dad's place on the farm always resulted in you and Kohaku secretly feeding the dogs whatever his father made. It was nearly unedible that only an animal could genuinely eat. Because of that, you'd go up to his room later and snack on all the treats you hid in the mini-fridge.

The thoughts bring about nostalgia, but you quickly push it away when you feel that bubbling pressure in your chest.

What the hell? Why do you want to cry? Why do you still care? Why doesn't he care like you do?

"Anyway, uh, that's all I had to ask. You can go back to playing with her." You mumbled and waved one of your dirty hands at the exit of the kitchen.

"You sure?" Kohaku inquires while taking a step forward. "I can help, you know."

Why does he have to be so nice!? No one told him he had to be so considerate; no one told him he had to make up for obliterating your heart. "No, Kohaku. I already said you can go back. You didn't come here to hang out with me, so don't waste your time." You didn't mean for attitude to spill from your lips, yet the building anger at yourself was unleashed on him.

He doesn't say anything, but you can feel his gaze following your movement as you take the tray of shrimp to the sink to clean. No way could you face him at this moment; the embarrassment mortified you, and it would literally kill you to see him giving you a pitiful expression.

How pathetic it must be when he can see that you still care so much about him.

"Just give me a holler if you need anything." He responds after a moment of silence, and you only hum back.

His footsteps fade, and only once you hear his voice faintly from the living room do you allow yourself to turn and face the spot he was standing in.

Dammit, he fell out of love while you never left.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Alright, everyone, wash your hands and come to the dinner table!" You inform them while plating their dishes in your fancy bowls.

Kohaku says something before you hear little fit pitter-patter against the wooden floors as though she were running. He's quick to follow behind, laughing slightly until you hear him praise her as they reach the bathroom.

Carrying their food, you place them down on the table and return to pour them glasses of water. This feeling of domestication riddles through your brain, igniting flares of satisfaction from within. You've always been a giver and a provider, and doing exactly so scratches a burning itch.

"Look at this!" Kohaku exclaims while entering the dining room, carrying Simat on his hip. "No one cooks as good as (Y/n). I swear, you are so lucky you get to her food every day." While he speaks, he reaches over to pinch her little chubby cheeks.

"You're a grown man. You can make your own food." You murmur as you leave to place the pitcher of water back in the fridge.

"What a killjoy!" He shouts before saying something inaudible to his daughter.

Now that everything is ready, you grab your own bowls of food and return to eat with them. As you approach, you hear his usual 'itadakimasu' and almost trip over your own feet. In that moment, you could practically be transferred right back into the past.

This is eating you up alive... You're not going to be able to last before you die again of a broken heart.

It took you a moment and a few deep breaths until you could return and settle down. By then, he was already halfway through his food, chowing down like a pig, with his heterochromatic eyes twinkling in enjoyment.

He suddenly burps loudly and apologizes before turning to face his daughter and pointing his chopsticks at her. "Why aren't you eating? Do you not like it?"

"She does this often," you say, your attention on your bowl as you prepare your own pair and start collecting the noodles. "She only starts eating after I take the first bite."

Kohaku's gaze settles on your body, but you don't say anything anymore before taking a bite and chewing. Now, Simat follows and splits her chopsticks before eating, too.

"You're cute, Simat." The older Oni states as he reaches over to swipe a small piece of garlic from her face.

The girl blinks, almost looking stunned, even if her expression remains neutral, and it breaks a smile on your face. "She is, very much so."

Nothing more is said as everyone continues to eat. Kohaku went back for seconds and made an even bigger bowl than what you made initially, but you're not going to complain. It's better he eats it all than letting it rot in the fridge before you throw it out.

A sudden ringing from your room grabs your attention, and you realize you are getting a phone call. "Oh, I'll be right back," you murmur and shift to get up and make your way down the hall.

However, your eyes nearly widen when you realize it is Rafe calling. "Shit." You had been so preoccupied with Simat that you hadn't been in contact with him at all this whole time.

"Hello?" You answered and quietly shut your door for privacy.

"Hello? Hello!? Babe, how can you not talk to me for two days straight? Not even just a quick text goodnight or good morning!?"

He had every right to be mad because it took minimal effort to stay in contact and let him know you were still alive. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I've just been so busy, you know-"

"With what!?" He snaps, and you nearly recoil from his blaring tone. "You don't work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, so what the hell have you been doing?

There's a lump in your throat that nearly chokes you dead. "First of all, watch your tone when you talk to me. I already apologized for not staying in contact. Second of all, if I'm busy, then I'm busy. It's the holiday, I still haven't bought any presents, and I still need to help management prepare for the office party. Just because it was my off days doesn't mean I hadn't work to do." Straight lying through your teeth, you swear you could have been struck down for such a vice.

Though you weren't wrong, there were still things you needed to do...you just haven't gotten to them yet.

"And that warranted not even a text? You know what, I'm coming over. We need to talk face to face." Your breath hitches, and alarmed 'no!' comes from your lips without your will.

"I-I'm not going to see you when you're pissed off. You know you say things you don't mean when you're angry, and I'm going to take that right now. I'm really sorry for not keeping in contact, and I'll do better. I'm in the middle of eating, so don't talk to me until you've calmed down and thought thoroughly about what you want to say."

You don't wait for him to respond and hang up. A sigh expells deep from within your lungs as you collapse on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. Rafe was not entirely in the wrong; you could have done better. It does make you feel awful keeping this from him; you've never been one to carry such big secrets.

If he were just more understanding, you could let him in, and he could even help if he really wanted. But if you think about it, if one of his ex-girlfriends dropped off their kid, who wasn't even related to Rafe, and told him to care for them, you don't know how you'd feel.

"Ugh!" You're an awful person; everything you've been doing is just reinforcing that. You're in a relationship, yet you're letting these past feelings for an ex affect you! It's not right; it was never right.

You should have slammed that door in his face the minute you saw him. You should have left him alone to deal with his own responsibility. You should have gotten rid of these feelings a long time ago before moving on and getting with a different person.

But you thought you had. You spent years working on yourself and your career, getting to the point where you didn't need a man in your life to be there for you. In the time being, you went on a few dates here and there, but when you really felt ready, you settled down with Rafe.

No more, you don't even want to think of this anymore. For now, you just need to handle this. It's only a month or two more, and then they're both gone.

At this point, your stomach is queasy from the mess inside your head, and you're no longer hungry. You return only to grab your bowls and dump the remaining food. Simat was still finishing what little remained, so you began washing the dishes and attempting to busy yourself.

Work starts tomorrow, and you have to go in early. Once you finish this, you'll have to call the nursery school or a pre-k so they can watch Simat while you are at work. You'll have to explain some circumstances, but overall, most daycare workers are understanding and accommodating, so you shouldn't have much to worry about.

Hopefully, Simat will be okay. It's probably too early for her to make friends when she's still opening up to you and her father. However, the environment would most likely do her some good, and she can see how children her age act with one another.

"Thank you for the meal!" Kohaku beams as he steps into the kitchen to hand you their empty dishes.

You only hum in response and continue what you are doing. The Oni sighs, and in your peripheral, you see him lean against the counter. "Is everything okay? You've been kind off since-"

"Since what?" You interject and finally turn your head to meet his beautiful gaze. "I'm busy taking care of your responsibility and trying to make sure your daughter gets everything she needs while you're off doing god(s) knows what." He didn't deserve your anger; all that is happening is your own Karma. Nevertheless, you just need him to stop this good guy act at this point. Receiving his kindness just makes it harder to move on.

A pathetic laugh makes its way from your lips as you shake your head. "Honestly, you show up at my door in the middle of the night after no contact for six years just to drop off a kid from the relationship you left me for. How ironic is that?" Another laugh echoes out from the sheer audacity. "It's so ludicrous that I can't even believe I let you just walk all over me like that. Am I just a joke to you?"

"What!?" He exclaims and shakes his head while standing straight up. "Of course not. I-"

"Not a joke, yet you treated our relationship the way you did once you went to college?" Your interjection silences whatever words are on his lips as he looks away to bite his lips.

Shutting off the water, you begin drying your hands on a dish towel and keeping your gaze away. "It's whatever. You fell out of love, right? I wasn't what you wanted, and that's just the way life is. But I will never forget the feeling of not being enough. And you're only making it worse by pitying me and trying to make up for how you did me so dirty."

Finally, you turn and face him, standing right in front of him and craning your neck to stare into his beautiful eyes. "I'm your ex. You're my ex. You're not obligated to do anything for me."

"I just... can't." He murmurs with a frown. "Before we were even in a relationship, we were best friends."

With a scornful laugh, you find yourself at your limit. Shaking your head, you step past him, only stop midway and turn back. "We're not friends now and will never be again. Get that through your head."

You don't let him say anymore, leaving him in his spot as you make your way to your office and shut the door.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You stayed in your office working on backed-up drafts and clearing fallen deals for the rest of the night. The two continued to play for a while until you got up, only to open the door and yell down the hall that he needed to bathe her.

He's a grown man; he should know how to bathe his own daughter so you can just leave them be. While you worked, they seemed to spend a long time in there before you heard their feet padding across the floor back towards the living room.

You're not sure how much time had passed before there was a knock at the door that spurred you to jump in surprise. Sighing, you mumbled a 'come in' or something along those lines as you resumed reading the documents on your screen.

The door parts slowly, and from your peripheral, you see Kohaku sticking his head in as he takes in the appearance of that room. "I just put Simat to bed, so I'm gonna get going."

"Okay. You can show yourself." You reply without giving him your full attention.

He remains still as though there is still something left on his tongue. And you were right as you heard him take a deep breath and open his mouth. "I'm sorry-"

"F*ckin A." You sneer and snap your head to face him. "Is that all you know what to say? Your head f*ckin broken? Can't come up with anything other than useless, thoughtless apologies? Just shut up and leave."

Those words hit the nail on the head as he suddenly nods his head and runs a hand through his black and white hair. "...You're right." That is all he says as he turns and begins walking away.

You sit stagnant, listening to his fading footsteps before the front door opens and shuts quickly with a faint click.

Alone, you finally break down, and a sob stuck in your throat finally pours out in strained waves.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The following day, you got ready for work and made breakfast for the both of you. While dressing her up for the day and packing her bag with snacks and her toys, you explained what was going on. She seemed to understand, but you made sure to tell her everything about how the day was going to go.

With a nice drive, you took her to the daycare and talked with the lady there a little bit to remind them of Simat's unique qualities. She seemed genuine, so you gave the little Oni a big hug and told her to be a good girl before leaving for work.

Everything was normal; it went by with the usual minor annoyances here and picking up the slack of your department. Half of them usually get so lazy during the holidays, and the other half works their finger to the bone to get that second Christmas bonus.

As you busied yourself, you couldn't help the little anxiety in your heart. You worried about Simat and hoped she was doing well. If anything happened to her, you would go off; it doesn't matter if they're just kids. There is this intense desire to protect her even though she is not yours. It's surprising how easily you grew attached to her, but then again, she is just a little girl.

Honestly, you couldn't wait to pick her up, but of course, someone messed up an insurance deal, and you had to stay behind to fix it. You're the unit supervisor; this should be designated to someone else, but they're all incompetent.

Once you finished it, you were out the door. People were trying to talk to you, yet you ignored them as you rushed to your car and sped towards the nursery. You were at least an hour later than what you promised, and I hope she was not resentful.

When you arrived, you threw the car in park at the front and rushed to get inside. Glancing around, you tried to find Simat, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

Your head whipped around to see the worker from earlier. "Hello! I'm sorry I'm late. I was pushed into overtime." Words spill out of your mouth as you attempt to calm yourself.

The young lady only nods in an understanding manner. "It's no worries; most parents usually end up working later than expected. Follow me. Simat's been waiting eagerly for you." She expresses and waves an arm in an indication to follow her.

Leading over to another space, you see it's a small room with desk put together where some kids are coloring. In the corner, Simat sat by herself with her head down as she played with her Orc doll. Even though her face always remained in the usual neutral expression, her sagging shoulders and low gaze felt close to melancholy.

Quietly, with soft steps, you strode up to her from behind before kneeling carefully in your work skirt. "What are you playing?" As soon as she hears your voice, her entire body perks up. Her head snaps in your direction with a slight glimmer of tears glossing over in her colorful iris'.

Unexpectedly, her little hands drop her favorite doll to reach forward and grasp the front of your button-up and conceal her face in your chest. You hadn't expected such a reaction, nor did you think she'd display an expressive depiction of emotion. "Simmy, did you think I abandoned you?" She nods after a moment of hesitation, which strikes you right in the heart.

Softly grasping her shoulders, you pull her back so you can look into those icy blue and line green eyes. Tears are staining her tan cheeks, which you wipe away softly. "I would never. I have you, and you have me. I'm not going anywhere. Now, let's go home and make something to eat, okay?"

Rubbing her tiny fist against her eyes, she takes a deep breath, nods, and turns back to grab her pink bag and doll before returning to you. She even holds your hand without you asking, squeezing tightly as though she were afraid you'd slip away.

How are you going to be able to let her go when the time comes?

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Through a consistent cycle, you continue to care for Simat, with her father calling every night before she goes to bed. Every two days, he shows up to see her while you maintain your distance. Sometimes, he takes her out to the arcade or ice skating, which you know does wonders for her development.

You can see the evolution of her opening up and expressing herself without constraint. She conveys her dislikes more without fear and actively does her own thing without having to be told to. You didn't think you could be so proud of a child that was not yours, but here you are.

Still, she has yet to speak, which had you severely worried, but the daycare tried to explain some situations to you. From Sim's early childhood, she went through a lot of neglect and stress, which probably formed a health condition called SM, Selective Mutism. It's an anxiety disorder that were affecting her verbal ability to communicate in regular or social situations.

There were many paths you could take to help her: mental health therapy, speech therapy, or even medication if it comes down to it. At her age, you'd really like to stay away from medicating her, so it will only be acknowledged in a desperate need.

For now, you and Kohaku agreed to continue what you have been doing and assimilate her into a healthy dynamic. After a few months, she'll go back with him, and then he'll take his daughter to get her recommendations for mental health and speech therapy. As much as you'd like to give her the proper treatment now, it would be best for her to participate in it when she can be in a more permanent environment.

This is only temporary, but the effects you have on her, as well as the effects she has on you, will become permanent.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

November passed, and most of December did before it finally became Christmas Eve. You had your work party, and luckily, it was on the day Kohaku came over. And because it was the holiday, he agreed to sleep over for Christmas.

Currently, the two were outside playing in the snow. You can see them from your window as you peek to check up on them.

Three snowmen are built: a little one, another slightly bigger, and a humongous one. The small one has the oversized pink sweater she wore when she first showed up. The middle one has a giant smile and a huge heart drawn over the middle. The biggest one was wearing Kohaku's leather jacket, which slightly sagged on its stick arms.

Snow continued to fall and build up in the yard; you could practically hear the crunch of it beneath their feet. Simat suddenly fell back, staring up at the clouded grey sky that began to grow dark with the passing of the afternoon. You can see her breath in the air, the cold whisp drifting as she breathed out.

Kohaku smiled as he came over to pat her face and collapse next to her lightly. He said something you couldn't hear before moving his arms and legs, which his daughter mimicked. They both stood up together and took a step back to look over the snow angels they made.

Someday, you'd like to be down there and play along as the cold numbs the tips of your fingers and burns the surface of your face. But your place isn't by their side, and very slowly, you are coming around to accept.

You're almost done getting ready for the party, finished with your hair and makeup, and are now just waiting for Rafe to come pick you up, as he is your plus one. Leaving your spot from the window, you make your way to the kitchen, where you fill a kettle with water and place it on the burner.

Checking the oven, dinner is almost done; it should be ready a little after you depart. You're not worried about leaving the two alone while you're out; they'll be fine. After all, you're not part of their family.

The front door clicks and unlocks as you hear the sound of Kohaku's voice. Then the kettle started screaming, steam spewing out of the spout in rapid waves. Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, you shake the hot chocolate packets first before pouring a little milk and then the boiling water.

A cacophony of sounds blares from the TV, as it sounds like they resumed their Christmas movie from earlier. Your phone from the bathroom starts to ring, so you quickly place spoons in the mugs and bring them over to the two. "Here," you mumble, placing them down on the coffee table before wiping your hands on the sides of your pants and vacating down the hall.

Answering the phone with a hello, you hear Rafe's voice on the other line. "Hey, I'm about five minutes away. Should I park downstairs or in the front?"

"In the front. I just have to put on my dress." You respond while entering your bedroom. "Love you, be safe."

"Of course, love you too."

The dress for the occasion was a red satin dress, strapless, with a tight-fitting corset that snatched in your waist. You wore a pair of mesh sleeves that reached your upper bicep with white fluff around the band. With a slit on the right side, it was slightly provocative but appealing to show the shape of your leg. Because of its wide flair and slightly long train, you needed to wear a pair of high heels.

To be honest, you felt overdressed, but there are not many events that you go to where you can really dress up and make yourself feel like a pretty princess. Dress on, makeup set, and hair done; the only thing that is left is to grab your matching clutch purse and your keys.

"Alright, I'm going. Try not to stay up too late or burn my place down." At the sound of your approaching voice, Kohaku and Simat turned their heads from the movie to face you. Simmy's eyes twinkled, gleaming in the light as she sat up straighter.

"Wow, gorgeous as ever." The older Oni praised and rested his head against his fist with a smile that showed off his fangs. "Is this prom? Do I need to walk you out to your date and make sure he brings you home at an appropriate time?

Your jaw clenches, and it takes everything in you to eat the words that nearly spewed from your lips unapologetically. It's so funny how he mentions prom when he gave you that promise ring and made a vow to marry you when things settled.

How naive you were to believe it all.

Instead of replying, you step forward to kiss Simmy's forehead and tell her goodbye before leaving and locking the door with the passcode and fingerprint.

You take your time going to the elevator and traveling down, and right as you arrive at the lobby, you see Rafe's vehicle pull up.

When you got in, Rafe did a double take. He smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Who are you dressing to impress?"

"Can't I just dress up for myself?" You inquire with a teasing smile. "I practically planned the entire party myself; I deserve to enjoy it. '

With a nod of his head, your boyfriend placed a hand on your thigh and began to drive towards the office.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

At a party, regardless of whether it's work-related or not, there's obviously going to be alcohol. You tried to stay away, but it teased you with its fuzzy taste and mind-numbing burn. A lot is going on in your life, including a lot of pain and inner turmoil that you have no outlet for.

The source of it dwindles in your home, marking everything with their presence. The bed smells of her, and the air reeks of his cologne. Her hair products lay about in the bathroom; his clothes hide in the closet, obscured but there.

Their shoes sit right there by the door; muddy snow melted on wooden floors. When they leave, getting rid of everything that belonged to them doesn't remove the memories engraved in that place.

Really, what did you do to deserve this pain? Hadn't you suffered enough?

Your head is dizzy; your coordination is off, as though you were out at sea. Everyone at the party was enjoying themselves, with faces red and flushed or lighter and hot. Rafe is somewhere, off in some corner, gambling while playing pool.

Everything tastes the same: the champagne you downed and the water you sipped—it all tastes like bitter resentment.

"Shouldn't the supervisor who planned the party be enjoying it?" You're barely able to turn your head to see one of your co-workers and fellow supervisor approaching.

He was at least a decade older than you, with age lines slightly forming around his slim nose. His hair was dark and slicked back, a single stray over his forehead that contrasted against the bright lights of his blue eyes. While others wore ugly Christmas sweaters, Reno refused to wear anything other than his tailored black suit and red satin tie.

"I'm enjoying it." You hold in a burp and swallow it down. "Don't you see all my drinks?" With gestures at the table, the focus is on the multiple cocktail glasses and stacked shot glasses.

Reno pushed his thin glasses higher up his nose while stepping on the footrest and lifting himself to sit in the high bar chair. "That many drinks are a prescription for a broken heart, supervisor."

You scowl, twisting your face into a scornful expression. "What you know about a broken heart? You married your high school sweetheart." The words burn worse than whiskey down the throat. "Both of you went to prep school in this big a** city but still married each other." Your pettiness comes forward in full sight as your grip grows tighter on your half-drunken glass. "I hate you and your happy little relationship. Get out of my face."

Unit one's supervisor laughs in the throat, his gaze shifting to the window. Even this late at night, the city doesn't sleep. Lights blare and flash, horns blare and whine, and people still walk out, even with the snow amassing on the sidewalk. "Everyone is lucky you're a professional, and do not let your emotions affect your work performance." His response sounded so bureaucratic that it only worsened your mood.

"You are literally the worst person to talk about relationship problems with. I need someone from the streets." Your drunken blunder earns a faint chuckle as the older man reaches for a drink.

He swirled the burgundy liquid around in the Pinot Noir-shaped glass before shifting to face you. "Whether it is someone with expressive slang or not, we'd presumably provide the same advice." With a reserved sip, he drank from his wine with poise. "Whatever troubles you, the most responsible thing is to confront it head-on. Do not dwell in it, do not prolong it, do not tell yourself that if you just wait it out, things will get better."

Vibrations from the holiday music rumble beneath your chair, tingling your toes alongside the alcohol buzzing in your veins. How comical it was when he knew nothing of what you were experiencing but nearly hit the mark.

His simple words somewhat calmed your mind, even managing to get you to sit up and release the glass you had been nursing. "Was Cora your first love?"

Reno licked his lip slightly before setting down his drink. "Actually, no. I had only engaged with my wife a few years after my first love and I became estranged."

That surprised you as everyone always thought Cora was his first love, considering their dedication to each other. "Do you still think of your first love?"

"Ah, I see where this is going." The supervisor declared with a knowing grin. "I will recount my feelings; however, there is a likelihood that you will hear remarks that do more harm than good." You just wave off his concerns and usher him to continue. With a sigh, he glanced down at his left hand and twiddled with the wedding ring.

"Experiencing your first love is something that no one prepares you for. They do not tell you about the overwhelming emotions or passionate romanticization of every little thing. There is no time to ready your hearts that become utterly consumed by one another. I experienced that firsthand with a young woman at prep named Wilhelmina. A lovely girl connected with a duke in Europe, but even without the knowledge of knowing she harbored royal blood, it would not be far-fetched to think she was a princess. Everything about her was dignified, married with elegance and grace. Many men competed for her hand, and of course, I was one among them."

You laugh and drunkenly shake your head. "Why am I not surprised that you had relationships with an actual princess? You truly are a man from a different social class than me."

"Yet we both partake in the same profession," He praises with a raise of his wine glass. "As I was saying, I was attracted to her physical appearance, yes. She was a gorgeous woman; even to this day, many could not even compare. Regardless, her brilliance and compassion outshined all. She was a woman who was all-consuming, and I mean that in the best possible way. Mina treasured knowledge and fell into deep fixation when researching or reading. I was particularly fond of her many tirades when she denounced any bias encountered in educational texts. Very passionate, I must add."

You narrow your eyes and pucker your lips. "This is all sounding too rich for me. Get to the part where she broke your heart."

Reno scrunched his nose. "I suppose you only have forbearance during work hours."

"I'm drunk and suffering. What do you expect from me?" You remark, which yields a hum from the older man.

"Touché, demoiselle. Alright, to the crucial details. Together, our relationship was fiery and passionate. And when I look back at it, I realize it was significantly unhealthy. We became each other's will to live. Life devolved into a diminutive, secluded bubble that others could not penetrate. Every waking moment, we were together, sharing and experiencing the first of certain situations with the other. Many nights, we spoke of what our future would be like, and at the time, neither one of us could fathom a separation. We planned to marry after graduation and move to the Netherlands, where we would live a simple life with a child or two and grow old together. It was idealistic and hopelessly romantic, but to this day, I will never be able to forget that devotion. Nothing I have experienced at this age has even compared. However, it was that strong passion that ended our relationship."

"What...?" You expel with a harsh gasp. "You broke up for what!?"

Reno smiled like a parent with a secret they won't tell you. "The connections we shared were strong, overpowering, but unforgettable. I loved her with everything I had to offer, and she reciprocated that fact, if not pouring even more than I did into our relationship. Perhaps that was when the fire of our devotion fizzled out for me while hers burned even brighter, hotter. Mentally, I struggled to maintain a rhythm at her pace and found myself overwhelmed by the fissures forming. No matter how fast I ran or how long I jogged, I couldn't arrive at the same destinations alongside her anymore. Things changed, feelings changed, and I knew that the responsible thing was to confront her and end the relationship."

Your mouth is dry as the tips of your fingers tingle. "F*ckin A, that's now what I expected. Hey!" You waved over attendance and snatched a shot from her tray before quickly downing it like water. "I wanted your heart shattered! I wanted your heart stepped on and kicked over and utterly obliterated. I hate you men who just fall out of love like it's nothing!" You attempt to grab another shot, but Reno grasps your wrist to stop any movement.

"Go on ahead." He informs the attendant, who quickly departed from your area. Alone, he lowers your wrist to the table and inhales a deep breath like he couldn't catch a break. "I never fell out of love with Wilhelmina. I still loved her, but what we had could not be maintained. I still love her passion; I still treasure her smile, and I still adore her covetousness for knowledge. I still love that woman, but not in the same manner as before. I was too immature to understand when and where to implement boundaries. I was too young to comprehend that a relationship should not be so obsessive. Wilhelmina and I had loved to live when we should have lived to love. It was not until I spent the years working on myself and maturing that I realized the validity of that statement. Engaging with Cora was not out of necessity or compulsion. I did not need to be with her always or see her constantly. I invited her out for excursions when I wanted to, when I was free. I did not need to ignore my duties and cast aside all responsibilities just because I could not handle being away from her for one second. We took things slow and at our own pace that people often thought we were not together. But it was good for us; we both gave fifty, fifty. Now we've been wedded for nearly fifteen years with not a single lingering issue."

You've never thought of it at that angle, only burning with wrath from your own overbearing emotions. Wilhelmina sounds just like you; you're relating on a personal level without ever meeting her. The fire of your devotion to Kohaku was so bright that it must have been blinding. It must have been all-consuming, burning away everything that made him who he was.

Now you understand. You were a flame, small at first, but with all that Kohaku poured into the relationship, into you, you grew into a blaze. You took his kindling without even knowing, consuming his fuel until he could no longer manage his own fire. While your flare evolved into an intense and raging inferno, Kohaku's had extinguished, smothered, with nothing but ashes remaining.

He did everything and gave you everything to such an extent that the inferno inside of you still burns to this day.

"I still think of her every once in a while." Reno's voice cuts through your thoughts as your eyes rise from the table. His head faced the window, staring back out at the snowy night sky. "We have remained in contact after all these years, providing updates here and there when we can. Of course, I do lament the way I shattered her heart at the time, but we both agreed that it was the best decision I could have made. Where we are in life currently is everything we could have wanted. It's a shame that such intense flames have become extinguished, but what we love now is a part of our lives, not our entire lives."

You can only stare at him, tears glossing over and a sting forming in the corner of your eyes. Perhaps this is precisely what you've needed to hear. After the breakup, you cried only once, letting everything out, then buried deep down in a cavern where everything was cold and frozen. You did not heal or express your pain to anyone. So, it formulated into resentment as the years went by, and you could no longer see it rationally, only emotionally.

For once, you see things clearly and understand what you must do.

"I guess I didn't need the streets to learn this lesson." You joke softly, attempting to lighten the mood so you do not wail audibly in front of your co-workers and bosses.

Reno reaches forward, his warm hands settling over your hands to stop tremors you didn't even know that you were experiencing. "You are a good woman, (Y/n). Whatever had transpired in the past is not anyone's fault. Things just worked out the way they did, and you should not blame yourself or your past partner. There doesn't need to be any more blame, just healing." His grip tightened the slightest when you breathed out a trembling exhale. "That man, Rafe(?) I can tell that you hold back with him. Do not try to pacify your flames, (Y/n). Either you share the burdens together or end it responsibly, but it is only advice. Do whatever you need to do."

Sharing a moment of silence, you both sat there while staring out the wall of windows. The flurries continued to collect on the ground, though it had yet to stop the traffic. Life went on, and life progressed.

"Now!" Reno had patted your hands before reaching over to his pants and removing his car keys. "Are you in need of a ride, or will you leave along with your date?"

You didn't answer at first, letting your gaze fall into the distance in the room where Rafe was located. He was enjoying himself, laughing and drinking. He was letting loose, finally releasing all the built-up stress you were causing to accumulate with your lies and hidden secrets.

"Could I trouble you, good sir, for a ride?" You tease with the first smile you've had all night.

Reno shared that grin and stood off his seat to offer his elbow while gesturing towards it. "No trouble at all, demoiselle." He remarks in the same joking manner.

Drunkenly, you wrap your arm around his elbow and allow him to guide you toward the elevator that leads down to the parking lot. Surprisingly, you were aware enough to text Rafe that you were leaving because you didn't feel good. He'd probably not take that too well and be angry with you in the morning, but it's better than nothing.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Your heels hang from your fingers as you shuffle down the hall. Your skin is hot, still burning from the alcohol, so the cool tiled floor alleviates some of that heat. Finally, you reach your door and have to rest your forehead against the wooden partition to steady your coordination.

When you input your code and fingerprint, the door buzzes slightly, and you attempt to enter as quietly as possible.

The TV is playing, but the volume is low. Not a single light is on but the nightlights and the illumination from Kohaku's phone screen.

At the sound of the door, he sat up from his position on the living room couch bed, and you could hear the sound of his footsteps against the laminated floor.

"You were out late." He teases. "Thought I was going to have to track you down and give your date a stern talking to."

You're still facing the door, you're still holding your shoes, you're still drunker than you've ever been. But it was enough for you to turn around to face him after gathering what little bearings you could muster.

He stands only a few feet away, shirtless, only in a pair of low-hanging Christmas pants that leave practically nothing to the imagination. The shape of his body was so manly, close to inhuman, with his muscles so profoundly shaped.

You are starting to understand what Reno meant by boundaries.

"I'm still in love with you."

Kohaku's heterochromia eyes widen, the whites largely visible as he stands stagnant in his spot. His expression from earlier had fallen, leaving his lips pursed tightly. Even his built chest and broad pectorals hadn't moved, as though you gripped his lungs and tore them out.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You slur with a heavy tongue and a slight tilt of your head. "I thought it was obvious."

He doesn't respond at first, either trying to collect his bearings or figure out the right words to say. "I-, you must have really drank a lot. You always said such nonsense when you had too much to drink." The Oni attempts to jest and laugh, but you do not share that giggle.

"There you go again, taking me for a joke again." Your murmur at that point was more to yourself as you dropped your shoes and stumbled your way to your bedroom.

Kohaku followed after a moment of hesitation, lingering in the doorway while you heaved yourself on your bed at the edge. No one says anything, just listening to the faint rumble of the TV.

"Tonight, I spoke to my co-worker..." You begin faintly. "He married his high school sweetheart, but not his first love." Your attention lingers on the window at the side of your room, staring out at the snowy weather. "I did not tell him what I was going through, but he offered advice that was exactly what I needed to hear. Before...I saw what happened to us as you just abandoning me, completely ditching me because you didn't love me anymore. It was more complex than that, wasn't it?"

Tears gloss over once again, but this time, you let them fall and smudge whatever makeup remained. "You still loved me; it just became too much. It must have been so exhausting to give your all every waking moment." Everything tastes bitter on your tongue. "I don't fully understand because I still have so much to give...I still had so much to offer. But you...I must have taken everything and still begged for more. I should have understood, but I was young, and immature, and passionately in love with the idea of love."

The guilt is so evident on his face it's sickening. If this were you just a few hours earlier, you'd probably snap and insult him, unable to bear with his pity.

"Why are you feeling bad? You made your decision, and you did what you did. It was for the best because if you stayed, we both would have gone up in flames."

Kohaku inhaled deeply while reaching a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I just..." His gaze was anywhere else but your face. "I still loved you. I still couldn't forget you. You were...you were everything. What we had was unforgettable; most things can't even reciprocate the feelings I had with you." Everything mirrored Wilhelmina and Reno so closely that the irony spurred you to laugh.

Kohaku falls silent as you hold your belly with your arms crossed, hunching over and laughing with your eyes shut. It wasn't funny in a humorous way anymore. It wasn't even funny in a pathetic way, either.

Loving to live, obsessing over the idea of devotion, you were addicted to the unhealthy toxicity of it.

Finally, after a moment, you calmed down, only for your face to be soaked in tears and smudged across your skin. "I wish you had told me everything you felt instead of leaving me to my own thoughts and suspicions. My heart was bleeding and it never stopped."

"I'm...I'm sorry. I know you don't want-"

"It's fine." You interject and clear your throat. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to dump all this on you and make you feel bad. It wasn't to make you try and fix things by being with me out of pity. I've realized that I was stuck in our history, in love with the you from the past. The man you are today isn't the same person... I don't even know who you are anymore."

The Oni in front of you had parted his lips, but the words wouldn't leave his tongue. Fangs poked out, glinting in the moonlight before he finally closed his mouth and swallowed strenuously.

Gingerly, he stepped forward and stopped right in front of your body. His large hands reached down, taking your gloved ones in his and squeezing. For a second, you let yourself immerse in the warmth of his inhumanity before pulling away and pushing his arms back towards himself.

"I had told you to maintain your distance because I could not handle being around you. Now I realize what we need to have: boundaries." Softly patting his hands, you urge him to let them drop by his side. "You cannot treat me like the (Y/n) from before. You cannot compliment me or praise me, or suck up to get what you want. You can't just walk around my place half-naked. In fact, you can't be here anymore while I work on myself. We are not friends; we can't be friends, at least right now... Can you do that?"

With a solemn nod, the Oni stepped back and shifted to leave the room, yet stopped midway through. His shoulders turned as he looked back to face you and spoke in a hushed voice that you almost missed.

"Will you at least let me do one more thing?"

You didn't expect him to ask such a question, so you sat silenced and stunned, your drunk brain buzzing with the remnants of a hangover peeking through. "S-Sure."

With your approval, Kohaku steps back to stand in front. He's in your bubble, invading it as his hands rise and softly hold the sides of your head. Then he dips down, letting his lips press against your forehead with a fleeting kiss that still lingered when he pulled away.

"Being with you was an unimaginable experience that I could never forget. You are amazing, just an incredible person. There is no one like you in this world, small town or big city." His voice is soft, precious as he speaks by your ear. "Take all the time you need, (Y/n). I can wait for the day until we can be friends again. Even if I have to wait a hundred years."

You cannot stop the burning hot tears from expelling past your lids and trading down your neck. The insides of your chest aches; it stings and tightens in your heart as though Kohaku reached forward and tore his way through.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And I, oop, I wrote this in three days. It took longer than I expected because I didn't know where I was going with the idea. This also turned out longer and broken into 2 chapters bc as you know, I love writing realism. I want to showcase real emotions and it just wouldn't make sense for Kohaku to get with the reader at the end of this chapter when the whole time he didn't even share those feelings.

Of course, my heart is hurting bc DAYYUMM, I could never. Reader is better than me. I'd really be way too petty and once I feel wronged, you'll never be in my good gracious ever again.

Anyway, I wanted to try something new and write a love interest that isn't hopeless in love with the reader (*cough* Zagan *cough*). It just hurts so good, the angst rn. The next part is supposed to have a lot of character development and growth + as you know me, we get a little more gang affiliation bc I love bad boys.

Also Simat is a W and she will go off in the next chapter bc whoever hurts 'mommy' reader will get their throat torn out.

Might kill the reader, idk yet, still jotting it down.

Ps.

I just want to apologize also for being gone for so long without a single chapter update in like 6 months. I had completely lost all motivation after my wattpad, which I spent NINE years curating, was deleted in one night over nothing. It literally felt like all my hard work and recognition was just stolen and left me with nothing.

Of course, I have my quotev and Tumblr, which I am thankful for. Wattpad just had the most engagement and following, and it was easier to communicate with me. I just want so many people to read what I can do and enjoy the creativity of my storytelling.

↳If you'd like to support me or read 30+ drafts of TDMLM or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. You can find the link on my profile or here! Thank you :)

ᴍᴀᴍᴀ ꜱɪɢɴɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ

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i-hate-peas · 23 hours

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The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)

#the old guard #fic rec #champagne?#now I need to go back and reread all of these

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 days

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Musician Age Gap AU Pt 13

With two back-to-back shows in Paris, with a new song added to the set list, Kara expects to largely watch Lena sleep. But somehow, the morning after the first show, Kara is woken early by movement beyond the shared door of their suites.

Upon knocking, she receives a bright "come in!" and opens the door to find Lena bustling around the room. She's dressed in leggings and spandex top, complete with brightly colored sneakers on her feet. Her face is bare of makeup, but retains the dewey vibrancy only youth can give.

"Good morning!" Lena greets, bouncing to Kara with more energy than she has any right to have. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sure," Kara returns drolly. "But not enough--- how are you even awake? We only got back at 3am!"

Lena laughs. "I've got to get a workout in before the meet and greet later." She lifts one of her earbuds in one hand, nestling its pair in her ear with the other. "Wanna join?"

"The meet and greet, or the workout?" Kara asks dubiously.

"Why not both?"

Why not both. She's here with the express purpose of supporting Lena, but now she's faced with the dilemma of deciding whether that included running. She hasn't seriously trained since she played volleyball in college... she'd probably trip over her own feet.

"Sure," she finds herself saying, before her brain can catch up. When it does, she hesitates. "Oh-- I didn't bring--"

"I've got some looser gear that should fit," Lena responds easily. She cocks a grin. "Or you can just spot me."

"Yeah... I should probably do that. I can run out and grab some gear later today. At least some sneakers."

She does take Lena up on the offer of her looser workout gear-- sweatpants that were more capris on Kara than not, and a tank top that would have sagged on Lena, but comfortably snugs against Kara's curves.

"Oooh," Lena says when she sees her. She trots over and gives Kara a peck on the lips. "I like this look."

"You speak of this to no one," Kara warns, more self conscious of her bare ankles than anything else.

"What happens in Paris, stays in Paris," Lena promises, then tilts her head towards the other room. "Come on."

Kara expects them to use whatever gym amenities the hotel offers its guests, but it turns out the suite of rooms includes its own exercise area, complete with treadmill, freeweights, and aerobic equipment.

"I prefer not to use the shared amenities downstairs," Lena explains lightly. "I don't want to hog the machines. Or disturb anyone else's workout."

Seeing Kara's curious look, Lena gives her a mysterious smile. "It'll make sense later."

Lena trains like a professional athlete. Kara is exhausted just watching, and almost an hour in, it seems like Lena is only getting started. At least, Kara reassures herself, the woman sweats like a normal human.

"What?" Lena pants as she pistol squats with a fifteen pound dumbell under her chin.

"You really like this stuff, don't you?" she asks. Watching from the weight bench, Kara can see that this isn't just a means to an end. She enjoys it.

Lena smiles. "Yeah, I do. I can't help it."

Her enthusiasm is infectious, as proven by the fact Kara is compelled to join Lena in her floor exercises. Core had always been her strong suit in college, but it's clear from her lackluster plank and crunch stamina that she's lost any and all conditioning she might have had.

Even so, instead of feeling discouraged, Lena's delighted giggle, Kara looks forward to her next attempt. The workout ends with cardio on the treadmill-- or so Kara thinks.

"I gotta put these in," she warns. "That okay?"

Kara nods. Lena's mystery smile returns for a brief moment, before the treadmill beeps on and Lena starts with a brisk walk. After five minutes Lena expertly keeps up with an increasing pace, until her sneakers are pounding out a heavy rhythm at a rate Kara can scarcely fathom. Only the most dedicated of players on Kara's volleyball team had been able to keep up that kind of pace for very long, yet there Lena is, strides long and even and surefooted.

Then the singing starts. Lena begins with a scale or two, then a few vocal warm ups. Kara recognizes the first song of Lena's setlist from the opening note, and from there can only listen in awe as Lena belts through her entire concert from start to finish.

It sounds as steady as any true performance, the notes strong and clear without any shortness of breath. It's... astounding.

When the treadmill finally slows to a walk once more, Kara comes around to rest her forearms on the rail. She looks at Lena expectantly, who is patently pleased with herself.

She shrugs with false modesty. "It's sort of my superpower."

In answer, Kara crooks a beckoning finger, prompting Lena to lean down and receive a kiss for her efforts. Lena doesn't even break stride, but she does fumble for the off button, slowing to a stop as the kiss persists, deepening.

When Lena hops off the machine, Kara has half a mind to press Lena up against it to kiss her senseless-- a temptation she fails to resist when Lena's hand slides up her shirt to run warm fingers over Kara's ribs.

"Jesus," Kara mutters, pausing for breath. "Lena, you... I don't know if I--"

"We go at your pace, darling," Lena murmurs back. "Just know that I really, really want--"

Kara swallows her next words with another, deeper kiss. Helpless to the attraction tugging under her ribs, Kara lets her fingers wander up Lena's side, until her palm cups Lena's breast. It earns her a heady moan into her mouth, and a tightening of Lena's arms around her neck, pulling her closer--

"Lena? We have two hours before the meet and greet!"

Jess' voice calls, innocent yet conspicuous behind a door that stays shut. Lena sags, the moment broken but not it's tension.

"Thank you, Jess!" she calls back, not bothering to unloop her arms from Kara's shoulders. "I'll be in the shower shortly."

Jess' footsteps pad away, but Lena doesn't resume their previous activities.

"We don't have a lot of time..." she starts conspiratorially, voice low. "Not enough to do *this* justice. But..." Her green eyes darken with desire. "Think we can make up some time by doubling up on the shower?"

Kara reaches up and grasps Lena's hand, bending to capture another kiss.

"There's only one way to find out."

They do not make up any time whatsoever.

#supercorp #musician age gap au #co-opting some swiftie lore #sue me #actually pls dont #im poor

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ms--lobotomy · 2 days

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40k Lion being an an absolute freak. A slutty old man. A whore. Anything will do really.

Normally I don't answer requests while they're closed, but @kit-williams has a long overdue birthday gift involving Lion of either type. I was already going to do 40k Lion, but this is the kick in the ass I needed to finally write the fic. Thank you, Anon!

Summary: Lion reunites with an old lover.

Word Count: 649

Content Warnings: This one's real soft but like. Armor kink and breeding and vague NSFW

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You were going to become a mother. At least, that's what he had promised you. Before Horus lost his mind, before the man you loved vanished without so much as telling anyone where he'd gone. Ten thousand years had gone by. Despite your nature as a Perpetual, it was a long and accursed wait for something that might not even happen. Ten thousand years, and you'd not given up for a day.

Someone who'd been the lover of a Primarch would have had to go into hiding for the foreseeable future. So hide you did, moving from planet to remote planet and never staying for more than a few Earthen years. It was late at night while you worked. The noises you heard were like small earthquakes, but rhythmic as one thump superseded another. Right after the last one, you heard a knock.

"Shouldn't you be...?" you asked, words failing you.

"What in the galaxy do you mean?" you heard a familiar voice respond.

It all clicked in your mind. Perhaps the footsteps of a Primarch were so unfamiliar to you nowadays, so otherworldly that you'd mistaken them for something else. You hadn't looked out of any windows, but you saw a familiar shade of green. And you'd recognize the voice anywhere, if it was a little huskier and a little more worn.

"Lion?"

"Indeed," he replied, "now if you could invite me in, that would be quite welcome."

You tilted your head. He was never one to announce his presence, and the Lion you knew would open the door himself if he'd wanted to see you. Oh, well, you've reasoned with yourself. Most people change in ten thousand years. As you approached the door, you saw the familiar etchings in his verdant armor. You opened it and craned your neck up to look at him.

"You've aged," you said softly as he ran a hand along your cheek. His wrinkles were far more pronounced, and his hair was silver instead of the blonde you remembered. His forest-green eyes were the same, and he made rare eye contact with you as the crows feet grew deeper with his smile.

His smile widened. "You haven't," he replied, kneeling down. He slipped a hand behind your knees and lifted you up, his armor cold against your skin.

You relaxed. Despite the metal armor, his hold was as comfortable as your remember. He stood up. You hadn't felt that rush of air in a long while. You were now higher above the ground than you were tall.

He lifted you to his mouth, and you bared your neck as he pressed kiss after soft kiss into it. His whiskers were still rough against your skin, but that was a welcome feeling after going so long without it. Your eyes met again, and you let out a light giggle.

"I've missed you," he mumbled before resuming his activity.

"I've..." you started. How were you even going to begin to describe how you felt, those ten thousand years of sleepless nights waiting for him? That empty feeling of waiting, of not knowing whether your efforts were for nothing. Relief didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. "I've missed you t-!"

He set you down and knelt before you again, pressing his lips onto yours and pressing you into the side of your house. The straps of your sundress were pushed up and to the side, and your eyes widened as his closed. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Too soon?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"N, no," you whimpered. You made no effort to pull the straps of your dress back up, thanking your lucky stars that you had no neighbors.

"Good," he said. "Now, help me take off my armor. I want to keep my promise to you."

"What-?"

"You're going to become a mother when I'm done with you."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

#warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #lion el'jonson x reader #lion el'jonson #reader insert #warhammer lobotomy #sry all mine have been short i really wish i could be Wordier but i am Not

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artbyblastweave · 15 hours

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If youre still doing it, heroify Lex Luthor

The fish-in-a-barrel answer is Tony Stark, but the intuitive answer, not to mention the version I've actually seen executed at least twice- is that you ask the question- what if he's right, about Superman being bad news?- and then you go from there.

I'm actually going to take this opportunity to talk up one of the few Mark Millar comics that I recommend wholeheartedly, Jupiter's Circle, which is interesting in that the setting's Luthor analogue, Jack Hobbes, is essentially playing Luthor's cope-and-seethe angle completely straight, as a thing which he legitimately believes and which he's ultimately basically correct to believe in spite of most superheroes being at least decent people.

What was interesting to me about this portrayal is that Hobbes eventually decides that he miscalculated, that he can do more good by working with the Utopian as his friend and confidant than by fighting him every step of the way. It's a straight-up Lex Luthor redemption story. But the thing is that the setting of the comic as a whole is predicated on the idea that he was actually completely correct- although he doesn't live to see it, although he dies thinking he was initially misguided, the long-term trajectory of the setting is that superheroes eat the world, politics and activism alike subordinated to their petty grievances and soap opera idiocy. A major plot point of the second volume of this was that Not!Batman's turn towards militant leftism gets completely written off by his 1960s contemporaries because they're so used to reading his behavior through the lens of whiny rich-kid superhero interpersonal drama that they just can't parse it correctly. The comic advances that there's a self-centeredness and egotism inherent to the superhero that makes them suck ass at effecting long term positive change, but they also aren't going away, and they can blow up skyscrapers. At the point where I stopped reading, the setting was implied to be caught in a kind of boom-and-bust doom cycle where the superheroes gradually create a singular hegemony, then collapse into hyperdestructive infighting over what to do with that hegemony once they run out of conventional supervillains to fight- the aftermath of which clears the board for a new wave of the classic silver age cops-and-robbers game, which then gradually hegemonizes, ad infinitum. (This is a line of thinking that crops up in a lot of Millar's capepunk work once you know what to look for- Wanted, Old Man Logan, and to some extent The Ultimates all being examples.)

Another example of Heroic Lex Luthor, which I've written about before, is the comic Edison Rex, a comic whose pitchline is that the setting's Luthor analogue, the titular Edison Rex, turns out to have been completely correct that the setting's Superman analogue was an unwitting sleeper agent for an alien invasion, and steps up to replace him as Earth's foremost protector after finally neutralizing him- but since all he really knows how to be is a supervillain, his management style and problem-solving methodology from his time as an ends-justify-the-means anti-superman crusader translate to the new job with extremely mixed results. The comic ran 18 issues and remains unfinished, but it was pretty good.

#jupiter's circle #jupiter's legacy #thoughts #meta #asks #ask #ask game #mark millar #lex luthor #by the time I stopped reading i got the sense jupiter was about to go somewhat off the rails #so I don't vouch for anything aside from the first two volumes of circle and legacy

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princessgaia · 20 hours

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Sad ghost woman.

I had a mixed acai berry almond milk yogurt. I'm feeling really depressed about my new tank top. I guess I will pair it with my large sized cardigans I'm getting in October. I agree with noa that appearances are not particularly important. I believe in the blank state of existence. I'm so profoundly blessed to have her as a friend. I am heavily chained to capitalism and body image. I know in my soul it isn't true. But the coquette community is goofy and cute and I've always loved sanrio and kawaii stuff. I feel like a neglected child. When I was little I felt like an alien in my family and told them I wish they would all die. But my mom and dad are rare jolly souls. During Christmas mom would give us so many presents under the tree. When I was in fifth grade mom finally told me Santa wasn't real. I cried.

So this is my new ghost shirt. The girl who makes them loves t swift. I got a grey spruce shirt from her and I'm disappointed. But baggy shirts are always a plus so I'm gonna try and be positive about it.

It's sad cus in the Bible Jesus/God says do not worry about your clothes. I know it's wrong of me to be obsessed with coquette sophistication. I honestly don't even fluff w Lana del Rey or anyone else who sings coquette. I honestly believe that she's a bad influence on impressionable females. Same thing with Taylor Swift. It's all songs about love and men basically. It teaches females that romance is everything and to procreate. Instead of healing our souls and healing our earth. I mean I think they are very beautiful and talented singer songwriters. I'm not hating on them jus expressing my opinion.

I feel like an amalgamation of the world. Like I am mother earth. Coquette is much about black swan and girl interrupted, virgin suicides. Sad traumatized pretty females. I grew up going to the mental hospital so very many times. It sucks. I used to want to be a ballerina when I was a little girl. And I've struggled w bulimia and anorexia and binge eating since I was Atleast 9 years old. I remember having a best friend who died. We used to eat lunch together and I felt so ugly. All I would eat everyday is a kiwi. Then comes highschool and all I would eat is one granola bar a day.

I was bulimic at probably age 10. But it wasn't often. I became severely bulimic after age 24. And it's been like that ever since. But not now, no not now. My boyfriend really helps w my bulimia.

I got an anon saying my boyfriend is shitty and doesn't really love me. He does love me. And aren't we all shitty? He the most attractive man I've ever seen. He's touched me more gently and tenderly than any man ever. He takes care of me in a lot of ways. He complains about it but does it anyway. His heart is good. He has severe childhood trauma and never learned love.

I feel like we all have severe childhood trauma from this consumerist world of capitalism and money. It's hurting our souls, our bodies and fragile minds. I'm sorry I wasn't able to help produce positive change for us all. But being a creative writer, expressing my heart, I feel it is light giving.

Though this be heavy intangible material.

Thanks for reading. Love y'all.🌊🐾

#my pics #communication #fluff #just chatting #Womanhood #Girlhood #Thoughts #Soul #Deep ecology #Ghost #ghost lady #Me #Selfie #Coquette #coquette angel #coquette dollete #girlblogger

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doyouknowthisactor · 2 days

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By "roles" I mean playing a different character, and in a different piece of media; someone playing one character across a franchise only counts as one thing for the purposes of this poll, as does playing multiple characters in one franchise/piece of media

Below are some of this actor's roles. Please only check after voting!

Farscape as Aeryn Sun

Stargate: SG-1 as Vala Mal Doran

Pitch Black as Sharon 'Shazza' Montgomery

The Originals as Dahlia

Black is also a voice actor, appearing in games such as the Uncharted franchise as Chloe Frazer or Dragon Age as Morrigan, among other roles.

More roles

#actors #movies #television #polls #tumblr polls #do you know this actor polls #claudia black

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romana-after-dark · 3 days

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Rooms on Fire: Losing My Religion

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Pretty standard tbh

3.6k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up!

"That's me in the corner That's me in the spot-light Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no I've said too much I haven't said enough I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try." ~Losing my Religion, R.E.M

“Will, take her.” Santiago orders Will, and the stronger man tries to take you away from where you cling to Frankie.

Frankie, however, steps away. “No! You aren’t taking her from me!” He looks back and forth between Will, Ben, and Santi. Through the silence, they can all here Iris wailing over Rey’s body in the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insane! None of you get her!”

Ben scoffs. “She doesn’t belong to you, Frank.”

“YES SHE DOES! She’s my WIFE!”

Will steps forward, taking a hand on your leg assertively, looking Frankie in the eyes. His dominance quells the room. “She’s my wife too, Frankie. Let me take her.” In a lower voice, he adds just to Frankie. “It’s gonna be easier if you just go, you know that. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Frankie glances at Santi, rage bubbling in him. Will was right. “Sent someone to get Rey’s body, help Iris move him. She’s… she’s not gonna wanna leave his body. We are not making her clean up his blood the way she did Jonah’s, got it?” Francisco rarely spoke this firmly… but he cared about Iris and he wanted Rey’s body respected.

“I will, I promise.” Frankie watched as you left the room in Will’s arms, crying into his chest.

Francisco was dragged down the halls, Ben trailing after then after being told to follow, Santi yanking along Frankie’s still-soar arm.

“Show down! Ow!”

“Shut the fuck up!” When they got to Frankie’s bedroom, Santi told Ben to stay outside until he was called. When the door closed, he delivered a crisp slap across Frankie’s face.

“Shit!” Frankie cried, holding his face and tasting blood.

Grabbing his shirt, Santi shoves Ben against the door, making sure Ben hears every Santi is doing to Frankie that he can’t stop.

“Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again!” He screams, slapping Frankie again and making his head lul to the side. “I AM YOUR GOD!”

Frankie shoves him back. “YOU”RE MY BROTHER! This whole thing is FUCKED Santi!”

Santi went for Frankie’s shirt, tearing at the fabric and buttons as Frankie tried to fight him off. There was a scuffle, slaps to faces and arms and chest before his shirt was pulled off him, showing the scars on Frankie’s arms. Scars that matched Santi’s. Neatly in a line, they were scabbed and new, bruising still around the wounds, each an inch or two long. Santiago pressed their arms together.

“Blood brothers, Frank. Blood brothers. You were made for me, I was made for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Frankie winces at the memory, how Santiago laid him down with a knife, cut into their skin together until they bled. On a bed of blood they fucked, sealing their commitment to each other, or that’s what Santi thought the ritual meant. The whole time, Frankie tried to imagine it was Ben.

Santi didn’t let go of his arm, fingers tracing up and down the scarred skin, picking at a scab until it bled. “You’re mine, Frank. Certainly not Madonna’s. She’s here to have our child. And you’re not Ben’s either.”

His eyes went wide at that, going into defense. Deny, deny, deny, or Ben would be dead.

“Santi, no, we’re not- AH!” Santiago ripped the scab, causing blood to spill out.

“Don’t lie to me! I know you fuck him behind my back. Is that why you care so much about Saha? You fucking him too, just like Madonna?”

Bent over in pain holding his arms, Frankie looks up at Santi in anguish, tears in his eyes as he screams. “HE WAS MY FRIEND! HE WAS HERS! FOR FUCK SAKE SANTIAGO NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!” He stood up straight, speaking strong even as he cried. “He loved Iris! He loved Iris only and Ben killed him! That girl lost her father and now is sobbing because of her lover's dead body!”

Santiago scoffs. “That’s your fucking boy toy, not mine. I don’t control Ben.”

“That’s the problem! You and Beatri indulged his every whim, Will protected him from any consequence and now he’s a spoiled slut!”

“And what do you think you are? You live in comfort, in excess even, you get fucked by me, Ben, Will, even sliding your cock into Madonna’s little cunt for hours in those meadows because I allow it! You’re just a cockdumb, petulant child who's mad because the world isn’t perfect! You’re no better.”

Frankie locked his jaw, staring hard. “Yes, I am.”

When Santi closed in on him, Frankie braced for impact. Instead, when their bodies were crowded together, Santi simply opened the door. Ben sat there ont he floor, legs pulled up to his chest like a child whose parents were fighting, looking up at the door with wide blue eyes.

“You hear all that, Benny?”

Ben blinked, “Yeah.” He stands up, his long legs wobbly.

“Ben…” Frankie wanted to say he didn’t mean it, they were all fucked… but Rey’s blood still covered him. It was an odd sight on a boy who looked so young and innocent when he really wanted too. Or needed to.

Terror filled him, afraid Santi was going to hurt Benny, and despite just watching him kill a man in cold blood Frankie felt the need to protect him. He looked so much like that young underweight half-frozen boy in Will’s arms so many years ago. What happened to them all?

Instead of harming him, Santi beconned him in the room and kissed him so tenderly, Frankie hasn’t seen it since they were teens promising to be different from Beatriz.

Ben made no effort to rebuff. He was taken aback at first of course, this was not the response they were expecting from him. He locked eyes with Frankie as Santi deepened the kiss, and narrows his eyes at his lover. Ben does not take kindly to being insulted. Arms snake around Santi’s middle, Ben grinding his cock against Santi’s stomach, moaning into his mouth. Frankie heard drops of blood drip from his arm into the wood floor. He needed to wrap it up. Instead, Santi told Frankie to get in the chair.

It took everything in Santi to not watch Frankie watching them. To not see his face as he slid inside Ben’s asshole, to not see how much it pissed him off when he made the younger man moan as he sucked on a nipple. He didn’t need to look, however, because he knew, he knew just how badly it was angering Frankie, how it hurt him. Santi fucked Ben the way he knew Frankie liked, slow and tender, lots of kisses. He knew Frankie longed for those soft days so long ago, teenagers sneaking around, falling in love in closets and up in trees. Before Madonna came and fucked everything up.

That’s why they were made for each other. Raised together, brothers, as close and two people could get. From the craddle to the grave, Francisco Morales belonged to him. They were meant to be, their bodies were created by Beatriz to fit together, to bring each other pleasure. Frankie was his eve, the mother, the god of nature and fertility and-WHY COULDNT HE GET PREGNANT?!??!? None of this would have happened if Mother God had allowed them this, if he could fill his lover with his hot seed and create the savior Santiago couldn’t be. They could birth the savior together, Mary and Joseph, Frankie as the Madonna instead of that cunt causing all the problems.

Santi was sure not to harm Ben, opening him up slowly as the boy moaned like a slut with his asshole clenching on Santi’s tongue, fingers poking their way inside in contrast to the way he liked to ram into Frankies cunt.

Ben was so tender, so sensitive, his cockhead beat red and slick with precum as Santi slid his thumb around it. He repeatedly pulled back the skin, making Ben moan in wonton madness. He gave Ben the gentle love making he knew his Frank desired, the kind of soft touches Santi hadn’t been giving lately. No, ever since Madonna came he was ravenous. He didn’t like watching anyone inside Frankie, making exceptions on occasion for Will and Ben because he thought he could trust them.

Despite not being threatened or even ordered to watch, when Santiago turned to the chair he saw Frankie watching. santi knew Frankie liked to be watched, liked to be heard, so he wondered how being put as the watcher affected him. Frankie’s face was set into a hard glare, eyes red and burning with tears and his knuckles going white with clenched fists.

Still, his cock was hard in his pants.

You cried. And cried. And cried.

Hysterics paused only long enough for Will to occasionally get some water in you as he held you close. It had been hours at this point, unsure what is happening to Francisco, what was happening to Iris, what would happen to Rey’s body.

Dead. He was dead. Your best friend was dead, Jonah was dead and Iris hated you. Everything was over now. You hold your stomach, realizing how disconnected you were from this baby in you. At month 7, there was a whole child and yet you felt like… like it was in you, not a part of you. There, not connected. You loved the baby, of course you did, you were its mom but… why didn’t you feel like it? Lately, you’d felt like you were just… here to do a job.

Eventually you calmed down, exhausted from the hysterics, and Will held you close to his chest. He calmed you down slowly, gentle hands brushing over your body. You could not fathom how the hands you’ve felt healing your body were the same as the fist that beat Jonah to death.

“Will?” You ask, listening to the beat of his heart. It was strong.

“Yes, my Madonna?”

“What happens now?” You couldn’t tell if he was pausing to think or in confusion, so you elaborate. “Jonah is dead. Rey is dead. I can never see Santi and Ben the same again-”

He sat up a bit to look at you. “You forgave Santi?”

Was Will really this naive? Really? Santiago had violently raped you, allowed your pregnant body to be burned and Will thought you forgave him? You and your baby could have died, and he thought you forgave him? Will was who you trusted. No matter what happened, you’d always trusted your Will, your smart handsome brave husband, your God of War and Medicine, your protection and your healing.

You can hear Jonah’s voice in your head, begging you to have a shred of survival instinct, to trust your gut.

For the first time, you lie to him.

“I did…” You fib, just a little. “It’s just been a lot lately and… he did something bad. I just can’t forget all of that.”

He nods in understanding. “I get it… I do.” His fingertips trail over your scarred skin. “To answer your question… I don’t know. I really don’t but… we’re married, we all love you and I know, I know Ben messed up today…”

Messed up? Ben killed your Rey, an innocent man. Your friend. Frankie’s friend. Dead and cut up on the kitchen floor where Iris, for all you know, is still sobbing.

You feel the walls coming up around Will.

He continues. “But we’ll find a way to move on as a family.”

You were not a family with these people.

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Iris fell asleep on the floor, durk curls caking in blood as she rested on her lover's stabbed-open chest. It didn't matter. She wasn’t going to get up.

They won. Those fuckers won.

Santiago had beaten her into submission, cutting up parts of her she’d never had the chance to show Reyansh.

Ben raped her for years and years and year and Iris managed to hold on because she had Reyansh and to a certain extent Jonah. Jonah was disappointing, Jonah’s shortcomings were clear and she would never forgive what he tried to do to that poor girl, whatever it was, but the day he died she lost one more person.

But Iris wouldn’t clean up Reyansh’s blood the way she had to Jonah’s. She’d die here in his arms. If Ben wanted to touch her again, he could fuck her dead, rotting corpse. Iris doubted Ben would let anything as simple as death set her free.

When she woke up, she was being pulled away from Rey’s dead body. Iris screamed, but that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Another few guards start pulling Rey’s body away, congealed blood dragging out from under him, and that’s when Iris started fighting. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t have him. He was hers.

“I’m sorry.” The guard behind her said. Scott, a nice, naive young man. Many guards were loyal to Santi above all else, but Will held the most control. Still, Rey was well liked. With the exception of those who were hardcore true believers amongst the guard who knew Santi’s recent turn on Reyansh, Iris had no doubt they were, actually sorry. It didn’t change the fact she was being separated from her lover even in death.

“Just do what he says” Frankie tells Iris, hands planted firmly on her shoulders, eyes intently boring into hers. “He’s gonna fucking kill me for coming down here but Iris, you have to just do it.”

Her eyes burned with tears of anger as she stood near the door to the backyard, underneath the balcony. “What’s happening, Frankie.”

He closed his eyes a moment as he heard the door unlocking. “I can’t lose you too, Iris. Please. I need you with me. I don’t have Jonah, I don’t have Rey-”

“I don’t either!” Iris spat. “What makes you think I want to live after watching that?” It had been hours since she watched her rapist stab her Rey to death, powerless as Frankie held her back. Ben would have killed her too. Should have.

“I need help! I can’t keep her alive alone, Iris! We have to be a team, for each other, for Madonna, for our ch-”

The door opened, Will bringing Madonna down with a guard. You looked awful. He hadn’t seen you since Will took you away, dealing with Santi’s shit… Blood was still on your nightgown.

“Madonna…” Frankie was no longer pleaded with Iris, went to hug his wife. Will instructed the guard not to harm Madonna in the slightest, and Iris appreciated Frankie’s addendum not to hurt her either, but Iris knew she was a second thought.

“Francisco, what’s happening?” Your hands pressed to his chest, looking up at him.

Frankie told you the same thing he told her, to just do as we’re told and it would be okay. Iris had a sick, sick feeling. “Trust me.” He said, hugging her. He looked at Iris. “Please.” Then made his exit with Will. Iris heard crowds outside, and wondered what sick, perverted show Santi was going to make you do now? Would he make you hurt her? That was fine by Iris.

You turned to her, those scared eyes chipping away at the ice in her heart. Iris knew you didn’t mean to get Rey killed, and blaming you for Jonah’s death was unfair and cruel… but she needed to be angry.

“Iris…” You whimper, wet eyes trickling tears down your pretty face. You held your stomach in fear.

When the door opens, you and Iris are quickly ushered out into the courtyard where hundreds of people looked on. Taking in the scene, Iris heard your heavy breathing. What she didn’t need, was you having a panic attack… When she turned to see your horror stricken face, Iris couldn’t help feel that ice melt a little more. Fuck, you were young. 23, just a child. You deserved better. Iris took your hand.

But you were looking past her. “Iris…” You said with wide eyes. Iris turned around.

On the courtyard, Rey’s body was tied to an X on top of a funeral pyre, strung up and limp and lifeless. She felt sick to her stomach, turning up towards where the four wanna be gods sat upon their ivory tower, daring to look upon her love. She couldn’t read their expressions, but watched as someone lit the pyre. Reyansh’s body went up in flames.

Santiago spoke not to them, but to the crowd. “Reyash Saha is guilty of high treason! As is custom, those closest must dance as he burns. Not even the Madonna is above the will of Divine Mother.”

He emphasized those last words, Iris knew, to put you in your place. You weren’t a goddess to him, you weren’t his mommy dearest. You were a womb.

The music started up.

“DAAAANCE!!!!” He screamed down to you both, and as the smell of burnt flesh filled the yard, you began to dance. It was scared, it was erratic, it was for your life and the life of your child. Iris understood that fear. But she wasn’t going to dance. It’s been a while since the last public burning, 2 years, she thinks, but she’d been at plenty, danced in several. This is not how it was done.

Firstly, this was supposed to be execution. You didn’t burn dead bodies. If a traitor was dead already, the close family and friends were questioned but there was no grand show.

If this were a proper burning, there was a ceremony, there were prayers to Divine Mother, chants.

The yard would be filled with everyone the traitor knew. Most of the guardsmen would be here for Reyansh, the house laborers, townsfolk… not just trying to terrifying to women. If the Madonna isn’t above it, Francisco shouldn’t be either.

No, this was just a show for the girl.

“Iris!” You grab onto her. “You need to dance!” Your words were broken and desperte, but Iris shrugged you off. “PLEASE!” You sob, grabbing her hands to force her but Iris shoved you back.

“I WON”T BE MADE TO DANCE AS MY HUSBAND BURNS!”

“But-” You reach for her, but she slaps your hand away. If the guard cared about the abuse of the Madonna, they didn’t care. The music was too loud to hear even shouting.

“Tell me, is there anything in the world that could convince you to dance as Frankie burned?” The image horrified you, but you remained resolute.

“My baby! Please I know you can’t understand but I need you, I can’t lose anyone else- IRIS PLEASE JUST DANCE!” You scream, pulling on her.

Iris grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “I’m pregnant too.”

You were frozen in stunned silence. “You… Rey…”

But Iris shakes her head. “I never had sex with him. Ben fucked everyone under the sun and I didn’t wanna chance giving him anything… But I told him, I broke down and told him… he’d figured it out.” Iris feels the tears coming, but forces them down. Don’t let them see you cry. Hadn’t she told you that before? “Rey said… said he’d raise it as his own. That he’d take me away and now he’s dead. And those men up there-” She pointed to the balcony. “Are why. I won’t tell you what to do, because you have your own child to think of, you are much further along, but me?” She pointed to her chest covered in Rey’s blood. “I refuse to give them anymore satisfaction. They cannot take my dignity. I simply won’t let them.”

Santiago watched from the balcony, smug as Madonna started dancing. Jesus she was pathetic. He expected Iris to not dance, giving him a reason to kill the brat finally. Maybe he’d take her for a little spin to see what Benny was so gunho about. But Madonna? Weak little thing like that had been trying to play big girl recently, acting tough, testing her boundaries like a fucking teenager and thinking her status protected her. It didn’t. But look at her now, dancing around as her best and probably only friend burned, just like she did, just like her paintings, just like her dad.

It was amusing watching you try to save Iris. Your empathy was something that he was attracted to. You were sweet, he liked watching you paint. If you had behaved, he could have lived a whole life with you here with him, his Madonna, raising the savior for his roll… But no, you had to have a temper tantrum. You had to whore around as if 4 cocks weren’t enough. And yet, when it came time to really be brave…. You were like a little puppet on a string and he could toy with you as much as he-

What were you doing?

“Santi…” Francisco tried to sooth as Santi’s knuckles turned white, gripping the balcony with a force as the sound of the music swelled around him. You stopped. Iris put her stupid fucking hands on you the way she put her stupid fucking hands on Ben’s body and tainted you. He watched with rage building inside. She was standing too fucking close.

“Will.” Santi barked, not taking his eyes off you two. Will was the most observant. Frankie could be naive and Ben wasn’t paying attention to most things. “Are they fucking?”

He swore he heard Will sigh. “No, Santi. Jesus fucking christ.”

Then they were conspiring against him. The two girls stilled completely. And then they turned around, looking up at him.

Santiago looked right back. They were fucking dead.

Okay!!! were so close to the end! I think it flashback chapter, then the finale might have to be split lololol.

Not a super eventful chapter, but I thought things needed to breathe before the last pieces. Still, I think enough is here to entertain!!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck through all the hiatuses. Ily!!!

If anyone is interested, I just finished my finale of Blessed Be the Fruit which took over a year for a short series. sorry ;-;

anyway its done!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

Poll time!

LOVE YOU ALL!

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